{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_8657/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_8657","id":"gutenberg_8657","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/8657","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Novels","Fairy tales","Tales -- Arab countries"],"text":"Produced by JC Byers, Ralph Zimmerman, Renate Preuss, Anne\nSoulard, and Coralee Sheehan\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nEditorial Note: Project Gutenberg also has the translation of this work by\n                Richard F. Burton in 16 volumes.\n\n\n\n\n         THE BOOK OF THE THOUSAND NIGHTS AND ONE NIGHT:\n\n             Now First Completely Done Into English\n           Prose and Verse, From The Original Arabic,\n\n                         By John Payne\n(Author of \"The Masque of Shadows,\" \"Intaglios: Sonnets,\" \"Songs\n                      of Life and Death,\"\n \"Lautrec,\" \"The Poems of Master Francis Villon of Paris,\" \"New\n                      Poems,\" Etc, Etc.).\n\n                        In Nine Volumes:\n\n\n\n                       VOLUME THE THIRD.\n\n\n                             London\n                  Printed For Subscribers Only\n                              1901\n\n                         Delhi Edition\n\n\n                 Contents of The Third Volume.\n\n\n1.   The Birds and Beasts and the Son of Adam\n2.   The Hermits\n3.   The Water-Foul and the Tortoise\n4.   The Wolf and the Fox\n     a.   The Hawk and the Partridge\n5.   The Mouse and the Weasel\n6.   The Cat and the Crow\n7.   The Fox and the Crow\n     a.   The Mouse and the Flea\n     b.   The Falcon and the Birds\n     c.   The Sparrow and the Eagle\n8.   The Hedgehog and the Pigeons\n     a.   The Merchant and the Two Sharpers\n9.   The Thief and his Monkey\n     a.   The Foolish Weaver\n10.  The Sparrow and the Peacock\n11.  Ali Ben Bekkar and Shemsennehar\n12.  Kemeezzeman and Boudour\n     a.   Nimeh Ben er Rebya and Num his Slave Girl\n13.  Alaeddin Abou Esh Shamat\n14.  Hatim et Yai: His Generosity After Death\n15.  Maan Ben Zaideh and the Three Girls\n16.  Maan Ben Zaideh and the Bedouin\n17.  The City of Lebtait\n18.  The Khalif Hisham and the Arab Youth\n19.  Ibrahim Ben el Mehdi and the Barber-surgeon\n20.  The City of Irem\n21.  Isaac of Mosul's Story of Khedijeh and the Khalif Mamoun\n22.  The Scavenger and the Noble Lady of Baghdad\n23.  The Mock Khalif\n24.  Ali the Persian and the Kurd Sharper\n\n\n\n\n\n                THE BOOK OF THE THOUSAND NIGHTS\n                         AND ONE NIGHT\n\n\n\nWhen Shehrzad had made an end of the history of King Omar teen\nEnnuman and his sons, Shehriyar said to her, \"I desire that thou\ntell me some story about birds;\" and Dunyazad, hearing this, said\nto her sister, \"All this while I have never seen the Sultan light\nat heart till this night; and this gives me hope that the issue\nmay be a happy one for thee with him.\" Then drowsiness overcame\nthe Sultan; so he slept and Shehrzad, perceiving the approach of\nday, was silent.\n\nWhen it was the hundred and forty-sixth night, Shehrzad began as\nfollows: \"I have heard tell, O august King, that\n\n\n\n\n           STORY OF THE BIRDS AND BEASTS AND THE SON\n                            OF ADAM.\n\n\n\nA peacock once abode with his mate on the sea-shore, in a place\nthat abounded in trees and streams, but was infested with lions\nand all manner other wild beasts, and for fear of these latter,\nthe two birds were wont to roost by night upon a tree, going\nforth by day in quest of food. They abode thus awhile, till,\ntheir fear increasing on them, they cast about for some other\nplace wherein to dwell, and in the course of their search, they\nhappened on an island abounding in trees and streams. So they\nalighted there and ate of its fruits and drank of its waters.\nWhilst they were thus engaged, up came a duck, in a state of\ngreat affright, and stayed not till she reached the tree on which\nthe two peacocks were perched, when she seemed reassured. The\npeacock doubted not but that she had some rare story; so he asked\nher of her case and the cause of her alarm, to which she replied,\n'I am sick for sorrow and my fear of the son of Adam: beware, O\nbeware of the sons of Adam!' 'Fear not,' rejoined the peacock,\n'now that thou hast won to us.' 'Praised be God,' cried the\nduck, 'who hath done away my trouble and my concern with your\nneigbourhood! For indeed I come, desiring your friendship.'\nThereupon the peahen came down to her and said, 'Welcome and fair\nwelcome! No harm shall befall thee: how can the son of Adam come\nat us and we in this island midmost the sea? From the land he\ncannot win to us, neither can he come up to us out of the sea. So\nbe of good cheer and tell us what hath betided thee from him.\n'Know then, O peahen,' answered the duck, 'that I have dwelt all\nmy life in this island in peace and safety and have seen no\ndisquieting thing, till one night, as I was asleep, I saw in a\ndream the semblance of a son of Adam, who talked with me and I\nwith him. Then I heard one say to me, \"O duck, beware of the son\nof Adam and be not beguiled by his words nor by that he may\nsuggest to thee; for he aboundeth in wiles and deceit; so beware\nwith all wariness of his perfidy, for he is crafty and guileful,\neven as saith of him the poet:\n\nHe giveth thee honeyed words with the tip of his tongue, galore.\n     But sure he will cozen thee, as the fox cloth, evermore.\n\nFor know that the son of Adam beguileth the fish and draweth them\nforth of the waters and shooteth the birds with a pellet of clay\nand entrappeth the elephant with his craft. None is safe from his\nmischief, and neither beast nor bird escapeth him. Thus have I\ntold thee what I have heard concerning the son of Adam.\" I awoke,\nfearful and trembling (continued the duck), and from that time to\nthis my heart hath not known gladness, for fear of the son of\nAdam, lest he take me unawares by his craft or trap me in his\nsnares. By the time the end of the day overtook me, I was grown\nweak and my strength and courage failed me; so, desiring to eat\nand drink, I went forth, troubled in spirit and with a heart ill\nat ease. I walked on, till I reached yonder mountain, where I saw\na tawny lion-whelp at the door of a cave. When he saw me, he\nrejoiced greatly in me, for my colour pleased him and my elegant\nshape: so he cried out to me, saying \"Draw nigh unto me.\" So I\nwent up to him and he said to me, \"What is thy name and thy\nkind?\" Quoth I, \"My name is 'duck,' and I am of the bird-kind;\nbut thou, why tarriest thou in this place till now?\" \"My father\nthe lion,\" answered he, \"has bidden me many a day beware of the\nson of Adam, and it befell this night that I saw in my sleep the\nsemblance of a son of Adam.\" And he went on to tell me the like\nof that I have told you. When I heard this, I said to him, \"O\nlion, I resort to thee, that thou mayst kill the son of Adam and\nsteadfastly address thy thought to his slaughter; for I am\ngreatly in fear for myself of him, and fear is added to my fear,\nfor that thou also fearest the son of Adam, and thou the Sultan\nof the beasts. Then, O my sister, I ceased not to bid him beware\nof the son of Adam and urge him to slay him, till he rose of a\nsudden from his stead and went out, lashing his flanks with his\ntail. He fared on, and I after him, till we came to a place,\nwhere several roads met, and saw cloud of dust arise, which,\npresently clearing away, discovered a naked runaway ass, and now\nrunning and galloping and now rolling in the dust. When the\nlion saw the ass, he cried out to him, and he came up to him\nsubmissively. Then said the lion, \"Harkye, crack-brain! What is\nthy kind and what brings thee hither?\" \"O, son of the Sultan,\"\nanswered the ass, \"I am by kind an ass, and the cause of my\ncoming hither is that I am fleeing from the son of Adam.\" \"Dost\nthou fear then that he will kill thee?\" asked the lion-whelp.\n\"Not so, O son of the Sultan,\" replied the ass; \"but I fear lest\nhe put a cheat on me; for he hath a thing called the pad, that he\nsets on my back, and a thing called the girth, that he binds\nabout my belly, and a thing called the crupper, that he puts\nunder my tail, and a thing called the bit, that he places in my\nmouth; and he fashions me a goad and goads me with it and makes\nme run more than my strength. If I stumble, he curses me, and\nif I bray, he reviles me; and when I grow old and can no longer\nrun, he puts a wooden pannel on me and delivers me to the\nwater-carriers, who load my back with water from the river, in\nskins and other vessels, such as jars, and I wear out my life in\nmisery and abasement and fatigue till I die, when they cast me on\nthe rubbish-heaps to the dogs. So what misery can surpass this,\nand what calamities can be greater than these?\" When, O peahen, I\nheard the ass's words, my skin shuddered at the son of Adam and I\nsaid to the lion-whelp, \"Of a verity, O my lord, the ass hath\nexcuse, and his words add terror to my terror.\" Then said the\nlion to the ass, \"Whither goest thou?\" \"Before the rising of the\nsun\" answered he, \"I espied the son of Adam afar off and fled\nfrom him, and now I am minded to flee forth and run without\nceasing, for the greatness of my fear of him, so haply I may find\na place to shelter me from the perfidious son of Adam.\" Whilst he\nwas thus discoursing, seeking the while to take leave of us and\ngo away, behold, another cloud of dust arose, at sight of which\nthe ass brayed and cried out and let fly a great crack of wind.\nPresently, the dust lifted and discovered a handsome black horse\nof elegant shape, with white feet and fine legs and a brow-star\nlike a dirhem, which made towards us, neighing, and stayed not\ntill he stood before the whelp, the son of the lion, who, when he\nsaw him, marvelled at his beauty and said to him, \"What is thy\nkind, O noble wild beast, and wherefore fleest thou into this\nvast and wide desert?\" \"O lord of the beasts,\" answered he, \"I am\nof the horse-kind, and I am fleeing from the son of Adam.\" The\nwhelp wondered at the horse's words and said to him, \"Say not\nthus; for it is shame for thee, seeing that thou art tall and\nstout. How comes it that thou fearest the son of Adam, thou, with\nthy bulk of body and thy swiftness of running, when I, for all my\nlittleness of body, am resolved to find out the son of Adam, and\nrushing on him, eat his flesh, that I may allay the affright of\nthis poor duck and make her to dwell in peace in her own place.\nBut now thou hast wrung my heart with thy talk and turned me back\nfrom what I had resolved to do, in that, for all thy bulk, the\nson of Adam hath mastered thee and feared neither thy height nor\nthy breadth, though, wert thou to kick him with thy foot, thou\nwouldst kill him, nor could he prevail against thee, but thou\nwouldst make him drink the cup of death.\" The horse laughed, when\nhe heard the whelp's words, and replied, \"Far, far is it from my\npower to overcome him, O king's son! Let not my length and my\nbreadth nor yet my bulk delude thee, with respect to the son\nof Adam; for he, of the excess of his guile and his cunning,\nfashions for me a thing called a hobble and hobbles my four legs\nwith ropes of palm-fibres, bound with felt, and makes me fast by\nthe head to a high picket, so that I remain standing and can\nneither sit nor lie down, being tied up. When he hath a mind to\nride me, he binds on his feet a thing of iron called a stirrup\nand lays on my back another thing called a saddle, which he\nfastens by two girths, passed under my armpits. Then he sets in\nmy mouth a thing of iron he calls a bit, to which he ties a thing\nof leather called a rein; and when he mounts on the saddle on\nmy back, he takes the rein in his hand and guides me with it,\ngoading my flanks the while with the stirrups[FN#1], till he\nmakes them bleed: so do not ask, O king's son, what I endure from\nthe son of Adam. When I grow old and lean and can no longer run\nswiftly, he sells me to the miller, who makes me turn in the\nmill, and I cease not from turning night and day, till I grow\ndecrepit. Then he in turn sells me to the knacker, who slaughters\nme and flays off my hide, after which he plucks out my tail,\nwhich he sells to the sieve-makers, and melts down my fat for\ntallow.\" At this, the young lion's anger and vexation redoubled,\nand he said to the horse, \"When didst thou leave the son of\nAdam?\" \"At mid-day,\" replied the horse; \"and he is now on my\ntrack.\" Whilst the whelp was thus conversing with the horse,\nthere arose a cloud of dust and presently subsiding, discovered a\nfurious camel, which made toward us, braying and pawing the earth\nwith his feet. When the whelp saw how great and lusty he was, he\ntook him to be the son of Adam and was about to spring at him,\nwhen I said to him, \"O king's son, this is not the son of Adam,\nbut a camel, and me seems he is fleeing from the son of Adam.\"\nAs I spoke, O my sister, the camel came up and saluted the\nlion-whelp, who returned his greeting and said to him, \"What\nbrings thee hither?\" Quoth he, \"I am fleeing from the son of\nAdam.\" \"And thou,\" said the whelp, \"with thy huge frame and\nlength and breadth, how comes it that thou fearest the son of\nAdam, seeing that one kick of thy foot would kill him?\" \"O son of\nthe Sultan,\" answered the camel, \"know that the son of Adam has\nwiles, which none can withstand, nor can any but Death prevail\nagainst him; for he puts in my nostrils a twine of goat's-hair he\ncalls a nose-ring and over my head a thing he calls a halter;\nthen he delivers me to the least of his children, and the\nyoungling draws me along by the nose-ring, for all my size and\nstrength. Then they load me with the heaviest of burdens and go\nlong journeys with me and put me to hard labours all hours of the\nday and night. When I grow old and feeble, my master keeps me not\nwith him, but sells me to the knacker, who slaughters me and\nsells my hide to the tanners and my flesh to the cooks: so do not\nask what I suffer from the son of Adam.\" \"When didst thou leave\nthe son of Adam?\" asked the young lion. \"At sundown,\" replied the\ncamel; \"and I doubt not but that, having missed me, he is now in\nsearch of me: wherefore, O son of the Sultan, let me go, that I\nmay flee into the deserts and the wilds.\" \"Wait awhile, O camel,\"\nsaid the whelp, \"till thou see how I will rend him in pieces and\ngive thee to eat of his flesh, whilst I crunch his bones and\ndrink his blood.\" \"O king's son,\" rejoined the camel, \"I fear for\nthee from the son of Adam, for he is wily and perfidious.\" And he\nrepeated the following verse:\n\nWhenas on any land the oppressor cloth alight, There's nothing\n     left for those, that dwell therein, but flight.\n\nWhilst the camel was speaking, there arose a cloud of dust,\nwhich opened and showed a short thin old man, with a basket of\ncarpenters' tools on his shoulder and a branch of a tree and\neight planks on his head. He had little children in his hand, and\ncame on at a brisk pace, till he drew near us. When I saw him, O\nmy sister, I fell down for excess of affright; but the young lion\nrose and went to meet the carpenter, who smiled in his face and\nsaid to him, with a glib tongue, \"O illustrious king and lord of\nthe long arm, may God prosper shine evening and shine endeavour\nand increase thy velour and strengthen thee! Protect me from that\nwhich hath betided me and smitten me with its mischief, for I\nhave found no helper save only thee.\" And he stood before him,\nweeping and groaning and lamenting. When the whelp heard his\nweeping and wailing, he said, \"I will succour thee from that thou\nfearest. Who hath done thee wrong and what art thou, O wild\nbeast, whose like I never saw in my life nor saw I ever one\ngoodlier of form or more eloquent of tongue than thou? What is\nthy case?\" \"O lord of the beasts,\" answered the man, \"I am a\ncarpenter; he who hath wronged me is a son of Adam, and by break\nof dawn he will be with thee in this place.\" When the lion heard\nthis, the light in his face was changed to darkness and he roared\nand snorted and his eyes cast forth sparks. Then he said, \"By\nAllah, I will watch this night till the dawn, nor will I return\nto my father till I have compassed my intent. But thou,\"\ncontinued he, addressing the carpenter, \"I see thou art short of\nstep, and I would not wound thy feelings, for that I am generous\nof heart; yet do I deem thee unable to keep pace with the wild\nbeasts: tell me then whither thou goest.\" \"Know,\" answered the\ncarpenter, \"that I am on my way to thy father's Vizier, the Lynx;\nfor when he heard that the son of Adam had set foot in this\ncountry, he feared greatly for himself and sent one of the beasts\nfor me, to make him a house, wherein he should dwell, that it\nmight shelter him and hold his enemy from him, so not one of the\nsons of Adam should come at him.\" When the young lion heard this,\nhe envied the lynx and said to the carpenter, \"By my life, thou\nmust make me a house with these planks, ere thou make one for the\nlynx! When thou hast done my work, go to the lynx and make him\nwhat he wishes.\" \"O lord of the beasts,\" answered the carpenter,\n\"I cannot make thee aught, till I have made the lynx what he\ndesires: then will I return to thy service and make thee a house,\nto ward thee from shine enemy.\" \"By Allah,\" exclaimed the whelp,\n\"I will not let thee go hence, till thou make me a house of these\nplanks!\" So saying, he sprang upon the carpenter, thinking to\njest with him, and gave him a cuff with his paw. The blow knocked\nthe basket off the man's shoulder and he fell down in a swoon,\nwhereupon the young lion laughed at him and said, \"Out on thee, O\ncarpenter! Of a truth thou art weak and hast no strength; so it\nis excusable in thee to fear the son of Adam.\" Now the carpenter\nwas exceeding wroth; but he dissembled his anger, for fear of the\nwhelp, and sat up and smiled in his face, saying, \"Well, I will\nmake thee the house.\" With this, he took the planks, and nailing\nthem together, made a house in the form of a chest, after the\nmeasure of the young lion. In this he cut a large opening, to\nwhich he made a stout cover and bored many holes therein, leaving\nthe door open. Then he took out some nails of wrought iron and a\nhammer and said to the young lion, \"Enter this opening, that I\nmay fit it to thy measure.\" The whelp was glad and went up to the\nopening, but saw that it was strait; and the carpenter said to\nhim, \"Crouch down and so enter.\" So the whelp crouched down and\nentered the chest, but his tail remained outside. Then he would\nhave drawn back and come out; but the carpenter said to him,\n\"Wait till I see if there be room for thy tail with thee.\" So\nsaying, he twisted up the young lion's tail, and stuffing it into\nthe chest, whipped the lid on to the opening and nailed it down;\nwhereat the whelp cried out and said, \"O carpenter, what is this\nnarrow house thou hast made me? Let me out.\" But the carpenter\nlaughed and answered, \"God forbid! Repentance avails nothing for\nwhat is passed, and indeed thou shalt not come out of this place.\nVerily thou art fallen into the trap and there is no escape for\nthee from duresse, O vilest of wild beasts!\" \"O my brother,\"\nrejoined the whelp, \"what manner of words are these?\" \"Know, O\ndog of the desert,\" answered the man, \"that thou hast fallen into\nthat which thou fearedst; Fate hath overthrown thee, nor did\nthought-taking profit thee.\" When the whelp heard these words, he\nknew that this was indeed the very son of Adam, against whom he\nhad been warned by his father on wake and by the mysterious voice\nin sleep; and I also, O my sister, was certified that this was\nindeed he without doubt; wherefore there took me great fear of\nhim for myself and I withdrew a little apart and waited to see\nwhat he would do with the young lion. Then I saw the son of Adam\ndig a pit hard by the chest and throwing the latter therein, heap\nbrushwood upon it and burn the young lion with fire. At this\nsight, my fear of the son of Adam redoubled, and in my affright I\nhave been these two days fleeing from him.'\"\n\nWhen the peahen heard the duck's story, she wondered exceedingly\nand said to her, 'O my sister, thou art safe here from the son of\nAdam, for we are in one of the islands of the sea, whither there\nis no way for him; so do thou take up shine abode with us, till\nGod make easy shine and our affair.' Quoth the duck, 'I fear lest\nsome calamity come upon me by night, for no runaway can rid him\nof fate.' 'Abide with us,' rejoined the peahen, 'and be even as\nwe;' and ceased not to persuade her, till she yielded, saying, 'O\nmy sister, thou knowest how little is my fortitude: had I not\nseen thee here, I had not remained.' 'That which is written on\nour foreheads,' said the peahen, 'we must indeed fulfil, and when\nour appointed day draws near, who shall deliver us? But not a\nsoul passes away except it have accomplished its predestined term\nand fortune.' As they talked, a cloud of dust appeared, at sight\nof which the duck shrieked aloud and ran down into the sea,\ncrying out, 'Beware, beware, albeit there is no fleeing from Fate\nand Fortune!' After awhile, the dust subsided and discovered an\nantelope; whereat the duck and the peahen were reassured and the\nlatter said to her companion, 'O my sister, this thou seest and\nwouldst have me beware of is an antelope, and he is making for\nus. He will do us no hurt, for the antelope feeds upon the herbs\nof the earth, and even as thou art of the bird-kind, so is he of\nthe beast-kind. So be of good cheer and leave care-taking; for\ncare-taking wasteth the body.' Hardly had the peahen done\nspeaking, when the antelope came up to them, thinking to shelter\nunder the shade of the tree, and seeing the two birds, saluted\nthem and said, 'I came to this island to-day, and I have seen\nnone richer in herbage nor more pleasant of habitance.' Then he\nbesought them of company and amity, and they, seeing his friendly\nbehaviour to them, welcomed him and gladly accepted his offer. So\nthey swore friendship one to another and abode in the island in\npeace and safety, eating and drinking and sleeping in common,\ntill one day there came thither a ship, that had strayed from its\ncourse in the sea. It cast anchor near them, and the crew\nlanding, dispersed about the island. They soon caught sight of\nthe three animals and made for them, whereupon the peahen flew up\ninto the tree and the antelope fled into the desert, but the duck\nabode paralysed (by fear). So they chased her, till they caught\nher and carried her with them to the ship, whilst she cried out\nand said, 'Caution availed me nothing against Fate and destiny!'\nWhen the peahen saw what had betided the duck, she came down from\nthe tree, saying, 'I see that misfortunes lie in wait for all.\nBut for yonder ship, parting had not befallen between me and this\nduck, for she was one of the best of friends. Then she flew off\nand rejoined the antelope, who saluted her and gave her joy of\nher safety and enquired for the duck, to which she replied, 'The\nenemy hath taken her, and I loathe the sojourn of this island\nafter her.' Then she wept for the loss of the duck and repeated\nthe following verses:\n\nThe day of severance broke my heart in tway. God do the like unto\n     the severance-day!\n\nAnd also these:\n\nI pray that we may yet foregather once again. That I may tell her\n     all that parting wrought of pain.\n\nThe antelope was greatly moved at hearing of their comrade's\nfate, but dissuaded the peahen from her resolve to leave the\nisland. So they abode there together, eating and drinking in\npeace and safety, save that they ceased not to mourn for the loss\nof the duck, and the antelope said to the peahen, 'Thou seest, O\nmy sister, how the folk who came forth of the ship were the means\nof our severance from the duck and of her destruction; so do thou\nbeware of them and guard thyself from them and from the craft of\nthe son of Adam and his perfidy.' But the peahen replied, 'I am\nassured that nought caused her death but her neglect to celebrate\nthe praises of God, and indeed I said to her, \"Verily I fear for\nthee, because thou art not careful to praise God; for all things\nthat He hath made do glorify Him, and if any neglect to do so, it\nleadeth to their destruction.\"' When the antelope heard the\npeahen's words, he exclaimed, 'May God make fair thy face!' and\nbetook himself to the celebration of the praises of the Almighty,\nnever after slackening therefrom. And it is said that his form of\nadoration was as follows: 'Glory be to the Requiter of good and\nevil, the Lord of glory and dominion!'\n\n\n\n\n                          THE HERMITS.\n\n\n\nThere was once a hermit, who served God on a certain mountain,\nwhither resorted a pair of pigeons; and he was wont to make two\nparts of his daily bread, eating one half himself and giving the\nother to the pigeons. He prayed also for them, that they might be\nblest with increase; so they increased and multiplied greatly.\nNow they resorted only to that mountain, and the reason of\ntheir foregathering with the holy man was their assiduity in\ncelebrating the praises of God; for it is said that the pigeons'\nformula of praise is, 'Glory be to the Creator of all things,\nWho appointeth to every one his daily bread, Who builded the\nheavens and spread out the earth like a carpet!' They dwelt thus\ntogether, in the happiest of life, they and their brood, till the\nholy man died, when the company of the pigeons was broken up, and\nthey all dispersed among the towns and villages and mountains.\n\nNow in a certain other mountain there dwelt a shepherd, a man of\npiety and chastity and understanding; and he had flocks of sheep,\nwhich he tended, and made his living by their milk and wool. The\nmountain aforesaid abounded in trees and pasturage and wild\nbeasts, but the latter had no power over the peasant nor over his\nflocks; so he continued to dwell therein, in security, taking no\nthought to the things of the world, by reason of his happiness\nand assiduity in prayer and devotion, till God ordained that he\nshould fall exceeding sick. So he betook himself to a cavern in\nthe mountain, and his sheep used to go out in the morning to the\npasturage and take refuge at night in the cave. Now God was\nminded to try him and prove his obedience and constancy; so He\nsent him one of His angels, who came in to him in the semblance\nof a fair woman and sat down before him. When the shepherd saw\nthe woman seated before him, his flesh shuddered with horror of\nher and he said to her, 'O woman, what brings thee hither? I have\nno need of thee, nor is there aught betwixt thee and me that\ncalls for thy coming in to me.' 'O man,' answered she, 'dost thou\nnot note my beauty and grace and the fragrance of my breath and\nknowest thou not the need women have of men and men of women?\nBehold, I have chosen to be near thee and desire to enjoy thy\ncompany; so who shall forbid thee from me? Indeed, I come to thee\nwillingly and do not withhold myself from thee: there is none\nwith us whom we need fear; and I wish to abide with thee as long\nas thou sojournest in this mountain and be thy companion. I offer\nmyself to thee, for thou needest the service of women; and if\nthou know me, thy sickness will leave thee and health return to\nthee and thou wilt repent thee of having forsworn the company of\nwomen during thy past life. Indeed, I give thee good advice: so\ngive ear to my counsel and draw near unto me.' Quoth he, 'Go out\nfrom me, O deceitful and perfidious woman! I will not incline to\nthee nor approach thee. I want not thy company; he who coveteth\nthee renounceth the future life, and he who coveteth the future\nlife renounceth thee, for thou seduces the first and the last.\nGod the Most High lieth in wait for His servants and woe unto him\nwho is afflicted with thy company!' 'O thou that errest from the\ntruth and wanderest from the path of reason,' answered she, 'turn\nthy face to me and look upon my charms and profit by my nearness,\nas did the wise who have gone before thee. Indeed, they were\nricher than thou in experience and greater of wit; yet they\nrejected not the society of women, as thou dost, but took their\npleasure of them and their company, and it did them no hurt, in\nbody or in soul. Wherefore do thou turn from thy resolve and thou\nshalt praise the issue of shine affair.' 'All thou sayest I deny\nand abhor,' rejoined the shepherd, 'and reject all thou offerest;\nfor thou art cunning and perfidious and there is no faith in\nthee, neither honour. How much foulness cost thou hide under thy\nbeauty and how many a pious man hast thou seduced, whose end was\nrepentance and perdition! Avaunt from me, O thou who devotes\nthyself to corrupt others!' So saying, he threw his goat's-hair\ncloak over his eyes, that he might not see her face, and betook\nhimself to calling upon the name of his Lord. When the angel saw\nthe excellence of his obedience (to God), he went out from him\nand ascended to heaven.\n\nNow hard by the mountain was a village wherein dwelt a pious man,\nwho knew not the other's stead, till one night he saw in a dream\none who said to him, 'In such a place near to thee is a pious\nman: go to him and be at his command.' So when it was day, he set\nout afoot to go thither, and at the time when the heat was\ngrievous upon him, he came to a tree, which grew beside a spring\nof running water. He sat down to rest in the shadow of the tree,\nand birds and beasts came to the spring to drink; but when they\nsaw him, they took fright and fled. Then said he, 'There is no\npower and no virtue save in God the Most High! I am resting here,\nto the hurt of the beasts and fowls.' So he rose and went on,\nblaming himself and saying, 'My tarrying here hath wronged these\nbeasts and birds, and what excuse have I towards my Creator and\nthe Creator of these creatures, for that I was the cause of their\nflight from their watering-place and their pasture? Alas, my\nconfusion before my Lord on the day when He shall avenge the\nsheep of the goats!' And he wept and repeated the following\nverses:\n\nBy Allah, if men knew for what they are create, They would not go\n     and sleep, unheeding of their fate!\nSoon cometh death, then wake and resurrection come; Then judgment\n     and reproof and terrors passing great.\nObey me or command, the most of us are like. The dwellers in the\n     cave, [FN#2] asleep early and late.\n\nThen he fared on, weeping for that he had driven the birds and\nbeasts from the spring by sitting down under the tree, till he\ncame to the shepherd's dwelling and going in, saluted him. The\nshepherd returned his greeting and embraced him, weeping and\nsaying, 'What brings thee hither, where no man hath ever come in\nto me?' Quoth the other, 'I saw in my sleep one who described to\nme this thy stead and bade me repair to thee and salute thee: so\nI came, in obedience to the commandment.' The shepherd welcomed\nhim, rejoicing in his company, and they both abode in the cavern,\ndoing fair service to their Lord and living upon the flesh and\nmilk of their sheep, having put away from them wealth and\nchildren and other the goods of this world, till there came to\nthem Death, the Certain, the Inevitable. And this is the end of\ntheir story.\"\n\n\"O Shehrzad,\" said King Shehriyar, \"thou puttest me out of\nconceit with my kingdom and makest me repent of having slain so\nmany women and maidens. Hast thou any stories of birds?\" \"Yes,\"\nanswered she, and began as follows:\n\n\n\n\n                THE WATER-FOWL AND THE TORTOISE\n\n\n\n\"A water-fowl flew high up into the air and alighted on rock in\nthe midst of a running water. As it sat, behold, the water\nfloated up a carcase, that was swollen and rose high out of the\nwater, and lodged it against the rock. The bird drew near and\nexamining it, found that it was the dead body of a man and saw in\nit spear and sword wounds. So he said in himself, 'Belike, this\nwas some evil-doer, and a company of men joined themselves\ntogether against him and slew him and were at peace from him and\nhis mischief.' Whilst he was marvelling at this, vultures and\neagles came down upon the carcase from all sides; which when the\nwater-fowl saw, he was sore affrighted and said, 'I cannot endure\nto abide here longer.' So he flew away in quest of a place where\nhe might harbour, till the carcase should come to an end and the\nbirds of prey leave it, and stayed not in his flight, till he\ncame to a river with a tree in its midst. He alighted on the\ntree, troubled and distraught and grieved for his separation from\nhis native place, and said to himself, 'Verily grief and vexation\ncease not to follow me: I was at my ease, when I saw the carcase,\nand rejoiced therein exceedingly, saying, \"This is a gift of God\nto me;\" but my joy became sorrow and my gladness mourning, for\nthe lions of the birds[FN#3] took it and made prize of it and\ncame between it and me. How can I trust in this world or hope to\nbe secure from misfortune therein? Indeed, the proverb says, \"The\nworld is the dwelling of him who hath no dwelling: he who hath no\nunderstanding is deceived by it and trusteth in it with his\nwealth and his child and his family and his folk; nor doth he who\nis deluded by it leave to rely upon it, walking proudly upon the\nearth, till he is laid under it and the dust is cast over him by\nhim who was dearest and nearest to him of all men; but nought is\nbetter for the noble than patience under its cares and miseries.\"\nI have left my native place, and it is abhorrent to me to quit my\nbrethren and friends and loved ones.' Whilst he was thus devising\nwith himself, behold, a tortoise descended into the water and\napproaching the bird, saluted him, saying, 'O my lord, what hath\nexiled thee and driven thee afar from thy place?' 'The descent of\nenemies thereon,' replied the water-fowl; 'for the understanding\ncannot brook the neighbourhood of his enemy; even as well says\nthe poet:\n\nWhenas on any land the oppressor doth alight, There's nothing\n     left for those, that dwell therein, but flight.'\n\nQuoth the tortoise, 'If the case be as thou sayest, I will not\nleave thee nor cease to be before thee, that I may do thy need\nand fulfil thy service; for it is said that there is no sorer\ndesolation than that of him who is an exile, cut off from friends\nand country; and also that no calamity equals that of severance\nfrom virtuous folk; but the best solace for the understanding is\nto seek companionship in his strangerhood and be patient under\nadversity. Wherefore I hope that thou wilt find thine account\nin my company, for I will be to thee a servant and a helper.'\n'Verily, thou art right in what thou sayest,' answered the\nwater-fowl; 'for, by my life, I have found grief and pain in\nseparation, what while I have been absent from my stead and\nsundered from my friends and brethren, seeing that in severance\nis an admonition to him who will be admonished and matter of\nthought for him who will take thought. If one find not a\ncompanion to console him, good is cut off from him for ever and\nevil stablished with him eternally; and there is nothing for the\nwise but to solace himself in every event with brethren and be\ninstant in patience and constancy; for indeed these two are\npraiseworthy qualities, that uphold one under calamities and\nshifts of fortune and ward off affliction and consternation, come\nwhat will.' 'Beware of sorrow,' rejoined the tortoise, 'for it\nwill corrupt thy life to thee and do away thy fortitude.' And\nthey gave not over converse, till the bird said, 'Never shall I\nleave to fear the strokes of fortune and the vicissitudes of\nevents.' When the tortoise heard this, he came up to him and\nkissing him between the eyes, said to him, 'Never may the company\nof the birds cease to be blest in thee and find good in thy\ncounsel! How shalt thou be burdened with inquietude and harm?'\nAnd he went on to comfort the water-fowl and soothe his disquiet,\ntill he became reassured. Then he flew to the place, where the\ncarcase was, and found the birds of prey gone and nothing left of\nthe body but bones; whereupon he returned to the tortoise and\nacquainted him with this, saying, 'I wish to return to my stead\nand enjoy the society of my friends; for the wise cannot endure\nseparation from his native place.' So they both went thither and\nfound nought to affright them; whereupon the water-fowl repeated\nthe following verses:\n\nFull many a sorry chance doth light upon a man and fill His life\n     with trouble, yet with God the issue bideth still.\nHis case is sore on him, but when its meshes straitened are To\n     att'rest, they relax, although he deem they never will.\n\nSo they abode there in peace and gladness, till one day fate led\nthither a hungry hawk, which drove its talons into the bird's\nbelly and killed him, nor did caution stand him in stead seeing\nthat his hour was come. Now the cause of his death was that he\nneglected to praise God, and it is said that his form of\nadoration was as follows, 'Glory be to our Lord in that He\nordereth and ordaineth, and glory be to our Lord in that He\nmaketh rich and maketh poor!'\"\n\n\"O Shehrzad,\" said the Sultan, \"verily, thou overwhelmest me with\nadmonitions and salutary instances! Hast thou any stories of\nbeasts?\" \"Yes,\" answered she. \"Know, O King, that\n\n\n\n\n                     THE WOLF AND THE FOX.\n\n\n\nA fox and a wolf once dwelt in the same den, harbouring therein\ntogether day and night; but the wolf was cruel and oppressive to\nthe fox. They abode thus awhile, till one day the fox exhorted\nthe wolf to use gentle dealing and leave evil-doing, saying, 'If\nthou persist in thine arrogance, belike God will give the son of\nAdam power over thee, for he is past master in guile and craft\nand knavery. By his devices he brings down the birds from the air\nand draws the fish forth of the waters and sunders mountains in\ntwain and transports them from place to place. All this is of his\ncraft and wiliness; wherefore do thou betake thyself to equity\nand fair dealing and leave evil and tyranny; and thou shalt fare\nthe better for it.' But the wolf rejected his counsel and\nanswered him roughly, saying, 'Thou hast no call to speak of\nmatters of weight and stress.' And he dealt the fox a buffet that\nlaid him senseless; but, when he revived, he smiled in the wolf's\nface and excused himself for his unseemly speech, repeating the\nfollowing verses:\n\nIf I have sinned in aught that's worthy of reproach Or if I've\n     made default against the love of you,\nLo, I repent my fault; so let thy clemency The sinner comprehend,\n     that doth for pardon sue.\n\nThe wolf accepted his excuse and held his hand from him, saying,\n'Speak not of that which concerns thee not, or thou shalt hear\nwhat will not please thee.' 'I hear and obey,' answered the fox;\n'henceforth I will abstain from what pleaseth thee not; for the\nsage says, \"Speak thou not of that whereof thou art not asked;\nanswer not, when thou art not called upon; leave that which\nconcerns thee not for that which does concern thee and lavish not\ngood counsel on the wicked, for they will repay thee therefor\nwith evil.\"' And he smiled in the wolf's face, but in his heart\nhe meditated treachery against him and said in himself, 'Needs\nmust I compass the destruction of this wolf.' So he bore with his\nill usage, saying in himself, 'Verily arrogance and falsehood\nlead to perdition and cast into confusion, and it is said, \"He\nwho is arrogant suffers and he who is ignorant repents and he who\nfears is safe: fair dealing is a characteristic of the noble, and\ngentle manners are the noblest of gains.\" It behoves me to\ndissemble with this tyrant, and needs must he be cast down.' Then\nsaid he to the wolf, 'Verily, the Lord pardons his erring servant\nand relents towards him, if he confess his sins; and I am a weak\nslave and have sinned in presuming to counsel thee. If thou\nknewest the pain that befell me by thy buffet, thou wouldst see\nthat an elephant could not stand against it nor endure it: but I\ncomplain not of the pain of the blow, because of the contentment\nthat hath betided me through it; for though it was exceeding\ngrievous to me, yet its issue was gladness. As saith the sage,\n\"The blow of the teacher is at first exceeding grievous, but the\nend of it is sweeter than clarified honey.\"' Quoth the wolf, 'I\npardon thine offence and pass over thy fault; but be thou ware of\nmy strength and avow thyself my slave; for thou knowest how\nrigorously I deal with those that transgress against me.'\nThereupon the fox prostrated himself to the wolf, saying, 'May\nGod prolong thy life and mayst thou cease never to subdue thine\nenemies!' And he abode in fear of the wolf and ceased not to\nwheedle him and dissemble with him.\n\nOne day, the fox came to a vineyard and saw a breach in its wall;\nbut he mistrusted it and said in himself, 'Verily, there must be\nsome reason for this breach and the adage says, \"He who sees a\ncleft in the earth and doth not shun it or be wary in going up to\nit, is self-deluded and exposes himself to destruction.\" Indeed,\nit is well known that some folk make a semblant of a fox in their\nvineyards, even to setting before it grapes in dishes, that foxes\nmay see it and come to it and fall into destruction. Meseems,\nthis breach is a snare and the proverb says, \"Prudence is the\nhalf of cleverness.\" Now prudence requires that I examine this\nbreach and see if there be ought therein that may lead to\nperdition; and covetise shall not make me cast myself into\ndestruction.' So he went up to the breach and examining it\nwarily, discovered a deep pit, lightly covered (with boughs and\nearth), which the owner of the vineyard had dug, thinking to trap\ntherein the wild beasts that laid waste his vines. Then he drew\nback from it, saying in himself, 'I have found it as I expected.\nPraised be God that I was wary of it! I hope that my enemy the\nwolf, who makes my life miserable, will fall into it; so will the\nvineyard be left to me and I shall enjoy it alone and dwell\ntherein in peace.' So saying, he shook his head and laughed\naloud, repeating the following verses:\n\nWould God I might see, even now, A wolf fallen into yon pit,\nThat this long time hath tortured my heart And made me quaff\n     bitters, God wit!\nGod grant I may live and be spared And eke of the wolf be made\n     quit!\nSo the vineyard of him shall be rid And I find my purchase in it.\n\nThen he returned in haste to the wolf and said to him, 'God hath\nmade plain the way for thee into the vineyard, without toil. This\nis of thy good luck; so mayst thou enjoy the easy booty and the\nplentiful provant that God hath opened up to thee without\ntrouble!' 'What proof hast thou of what thou sayest?' asked the\nwolf; and the fox answered, 'I went up to the vineyard and found\nthat the owner was dead, having been devoured by wolves: so I\nentered and saw the fruit shining on the trees.' The wolf\nmisdoubted not of the fox's report and gluttony got hold on him;\nso he rose and repaired to the breach, blinded by greed; whilst\nthe fox stopped short and lay as one dead, applying to the case\nthe following verse:\n\nLustest after Leila's favours? Look thou rather bear in mind That\n     'tis covetise plays havoc with the necks of human kind.\n\nThen said he to the wolf, 'Enter the vineyard: thou art spared\nthe trouble of climbing, for the wall is broken down, and with\nGod be the rest of the benefit.' So the wolf went on, thinking to\nenter the vineyard; but when he came to the middle of the\ncovering (of the pit), he fell in; whereupon the fox shook for\ndelight and gladness; his care and concern left him and he sang\nout for joy and recited the following verses:\n\nFortune hath taken ruth on my case; Yea, she hath pitied the\n     length of my pain,\nDoing away from me that which I feared And granting me that\n     whereto I was fain.\nSo I will pardon her all the sins She sinned against me once and\n     again;\nSince for the wolf there is no escape From certain ruin and\n     bitter bane,\nAnd now the vineyard is all my own And no fool sharer in my\n     domain.\n\nThen he looked into the pit, and seeing the wolf weeping for\nsorrow and repentance over himself, wept with him; whereupon the\nwolf raised his head to him and said, 'Is it of pity for me thou\nweepest, O Aboulhussein?' [FN#4] 'Not so,' answered the fox, 'by\nHim who cast thee into the pit! I weep for the length of thy past\nlife and for regret that thou didst not sooner fall into the pit;\nfor hadst thou done so before I met with thee, I had been at\npeace: but thou wast spared till the fulfilment of thine allotted\nterm.' The wolf thought he was jesting and said, 'O sinner, go to\nmy mother and tell her what has befallen me, so haply she may\nmake shift for my release.' 'Verily,' answered the fox, 'the\nexcess of thy gluttony and thy much greed have brought thee to\ndestruction, since thou art fallen into a pit whence thou wilt\nnever escape. O witless wolf, knowest thou not the proverb, \"He\nwho taketh no thought to results, Fate is no friend to him, nor\nshall he be safe from perils?\"' 'O Aboulhussein,' said the wolf,\n'thou wast wont to show me affection and covet my friendship and\nfear the greatness of my strength. Bear me not malice for that I\ndid with thee, for he who hath power and forgiveth, his reward is\nwith God; even as saith the poet:\n\n\nSow benefits aye, though in other than fitting soil. A benefit's\n     never lost, wherever it may be sown;\nAnd though time tarry full long to bring it to harvest-tide, Yet\n     no man reapeth its fruit, save he who sowed it alone.'\n\n'O most witless of beasts of prey and stupidest of the wildings\nof the earth,' rejoined the fox, 'hast thou forgotten thine\narrogance and pride and tyranny and how thou disregardedst the\ndue of comradeship and wouldst not take counsel by what the poet\nsays:\n\nDo no oppression, whilst the power thereto is in thine hand, For\n     still in danger of revenge the sad oppressor goes.\nThine eyes will sleep anon, what while the opprest, on wake, call\n     down Curses upon thee, and God's eye shuts never in repose.'\n\n'O Aboulhussein,' replied the wolf, 'reproach me not for past\noffences; for forgiveness is expected of the noble, and the\npractice of kindness is the best of treasures. How well says the\npoet:\n\nHasten to do good works, whenever thou hast the power, For thou\n     art not able thereto at every season and hour.'\n\nAnd he went on to humble himself to the fox and say to him,\n'Haply, thou canst do somewhat to deliver me from destruction.'\n'O witless, deluded, perfidious, crafty wolf,' answered the fox,\n'hope not for deliverance, for this is but the just reward of thy\nfoul dealing.' Then he laughed from ear to ear and repeated the\nfollowing verses:\n\nA truce to thy strife to beguile me! For nothing of me shalt thou\n     gain. Thy prayers are but idle; thou sowedst Vexation; so\n     reap it amain.\n\n'O gentlest of beasts of prey,' said the wolf, 'I deem thee too\nfaithful to leave me in this pit.' Then he wept and sighed and\nrecited the following verses, whilst the tears streamed from his\neyes:\n\nO thou, whose kindnesses to me are more than one, I trow, Whose\n     bounties unto me vouchsafed are countless as the sand,\nNo shift of fortune in my time has ever fall'n on me, But I have\n     found thee ready still to take me by the hand.\n\n'O stupid enemy,' said the fox, 'how art thou reduced to humility\nand obsequiousness and abjection and submission, after disdain\nand pride and tyranny and arrogance! Verily, I companied with\nthee and cajoled thee but for fear of thy violence and not in\nhope of fair treatment from thee: but now trembling is come upon\nthee and vengeance hath overtaken thee.' And he repeated the\nfollowing verses:\n\nO thou that for aye on beguiling art bent, Thou'rt fall'n in the\n     snare of thine evil intent.\nSo taste of the anguish that knows no relent And be with the rest\n     of the wolven forspent!\n\n'O clement one,' replied the wolf, 'speak not with the tongue of\ndespite nor look with its eyes; but fulfil the covenant of\nfellowship with me, ere the time for action pass away. Rise, make\nshift to get me a rope and tie one end of it to a tree; then let\nthe other end down to me, that I may lay hold of it, so haply I\nmay escape from this my strait, and I will give thee all my hand\npossesseth of treasures.' Quoth the fox, 'Thou persistest in talk\nof that wherein thy deliverance is not. Hope not for this, for\nthou shalt not get of me wherewithal to save thyself; but call to\nmind thy past ill deeds and the craft and perfidy thou didst\nimagine against me and bethink thee how near thou art to being\nstoned to death. For know that thy soul is about to leave the\nworld and cease and depart from it; so shalt thou come to\ndestruction and evil is the abiding-place to which thou goest!'\n'O Aboulhussein,' rejoined the wolf, 'hasten to return to\nfriendliness and persist not in this rancour. Know that he, who\nsaves a soul from perdition, is as if he had restored it to life,\nand he, who saves a soul alive, is as if he had saved all\nmankind. Do not ensue wickedness, for the wise forbid it: and it\nwere indeed the most manifest wickedness to leave me in this pit\nto drink the agony of death and look upon destruction, whenas it\nlies in thy power to deliver me from my strait. Wherefore go thou\nabout to release me and deal benevolently with me.' 'O thou\nbarbarous wretch,' answered the fox, 'I liken thee, because of\nthe fairness of thy professions and the foulness of thine intent\nand thy practice, to the hawk with the partridge.' 'How so ?'\nasked the wolf; and the fox said,\n\n\n\n\nThe Hawk and the Partridge.\n\n\n\n'I entered a vineyard one day and saw a hawk stoop upon a\npartridge and seize it: but the partridge escaped from him and\nentering its nest, hid itself there. The hawk followed and called\nout to it, saying, \"O wittol, I saw thee in the desert, hungry,\nand took pity on thee; so I gathered grain for thee and took hold\nof thee that thou mightest eat; but thou fledst, wherefore I know\nnot, except it were to slight me. So come out and take the grain\nI have brought thee to eat, and much good may it do thee!\" The\npartridge believed what he said and came out, whereupon the hawk\nstuck his talons into him and seized him. \"Is this that which\nthou saidst thou hadst brought me from the desert,\" cried the\npartridge, \"and of which thou badest me eat, saying, 'Much good\nmay it do thee?' Thou hast lied to me and may God make what thou\neatest of my flesh to be a deadly poison in thy maw!\" So when the\nhawk had eaten the partridge, his feathers fell off and his\nstrength failed and he died on the spot. Know, then, O wolf, that\nhe, who digs a pit for his brother, soon falls into it himself,\nand thou first dealtest perfidiously with me.' 'Spare me this\ntalk and these moral instances,' said the wolf, 'and remind me\nnot of my former ill deeds, for the sorry plight I am in suffices\nme, seeing that I am fallen into a place, in which even my enemy\nwould pity me, to say nothing of my friend. So make thou some\nshift to deliver me and be thou thereby my saviour. If this cause\nthee aught of hardship, think that a true friend will endure the\nsorest travail for his friend's sake and risk his life to deliver\nhim from perdition; and indeed it hath been said, \"A tender\nfriend is better than an own brother.\" So if thou bestir thyself\nand help me and deliver me, I will gather thee such store of\ngear, as shall be a provision for thee against the time of want,\nand teach thee rare tricks to gain access to fruitful vineyards\nand strip the fruit-laden trees.' 'How excellent,' rejoined the\nfox, laughing, 'is what the learned say of those who are past\nmeasure ignorant, like unto thee!' 'What do they say?' asked the\nwolf; and the fox answered, 'They say that the gross of body are\ngross of nature, far from understanding and nigh unto ignorance.\nAs for thy saying, O perfidious, stupid self-deceiver, that a\nfriend should suffer hardship to succour his friend, it is true,\nas thou sayest: but tell me, of thine ignorance and poverty of\nwit, how can I be a true friend to thee, considering thy\ntreachery? Dost thou count me thy friend? Behold, I am thine\nenemy, that exulteth in thy misfortune; and couldst thou\nunderstand it, this word were sorer to thee than slaughter and\narrow-shot. As for thy promise to provide me a store against the\ntime of want and teach me tricks to enter vineyards and spoil\nfruit-trees, how comes it, O crafty traitor, that thou knowest\nnot a trick to save thyself from destruction? How far art thou\nfrom profiting thyself and how far am I from lending ear to thy\nspeech! If thou have any tricks, make shift for thyself to save\nthee from this peril, wherefrom I pray God to make thine escape\ndistant! So look, O idiot, if there be any trick with thee and\nsave thyself from death therewith, before thou lavish instruction\non others. But thou art like a certain sick man, who went to\nanother, suffering from the same disease, and said to him, \"Shall\nI heal thee of thy disease?\" \"Why dost thou not begin by healing\nthyself?\" answered the other; so he left him and went his way.\nAnd thou, O ignorant wolf, art like this; so stay where thou art\nand be patient under what hath befallen thee.' When the wolf\nheard what the fox said, he knew he had no hope from him; so he\nwept for himself, saying, 'Verily, I have been heedless of mine\naffair; but if God deliver me from this scrape, I will assuredly\nrepent of my arrogance towards those who are weaker than I and\nwill put on wool and go upon the mountains, celebrating the\npraises of God the Most High and fearing His wrath. Yea, I will\nsunder myself from all the other wild beasts and feed the poor\nand those who fight for the Faith.' Then he wept and lamented,\ntill the heart of the fox was softened and he took pity on him,\nwhenas he heard his humble words and his professions of\nrepentance for his past arrogance and tyranny. So he sprang up\njoyfully and going to the brink of the pit, sat down on his hind\nquarters and let his tail fall therein; whereupon the wolf arose\nand putting out his paw, pulled the fox's tail, so that he fell\ndown into the pit with him. Then said the wolf, 'O fox of little\nruth, why didst thou exult over me, thou that wast my companion\nand under my dominion? Now thou art fallen into the pit with me\nand retribution hath soon overtaken thee. Verily, the wise have\nsaid, \"If one of you reproach his brother with sucking the teats\nof a bitch, he also shall suck her,\" and how well saith the poet:\n\nWhen fortune's blows on some fall hard and heavily, With others\n     of our kind as friend encampeth she.\nSo say to those who joy in our distress, \"Awake; For those who\n     mock our woes shall suffer even as we.\"\n\nAnd death in company is the best of things; wherefore I will make\nhaste to kill thee, ere thou see me killed.' 'Alas! Alas!' said\nthe fox in himself. 'I am fallen in with this tyrant, and my case\ncalls for the use of craft and cunning; for indeed it is said\nthat a woman fashions her ornaments for the festival day, and\nquoth the proverb, \"I have kept thee, O my tear, against the time\nof my distress!\" Except I make shift to circumvent this\noverbearing beast, I am lost without recourse; and how well says\nthe poet:\n\nProvide thee by craft, for thou liv'st in a time Whose folk are\n     as lions that lurk in a wood,\nAnd set thou the mill-stream of knavery abroach, That the mill of\n     subsistence may grind for thy food,\nAnd pluck the fruits boldly; but if they escape From thy grasp,\n     then content thee with hay to thy food.'\n\nThen said he to the wolf, 'Hasten not to slay me, for that is not\nmy desert and thou wouldst repent it, O valiant beast, lord of\nmight and exceeding prowess! If thou hold thy hand and consider\nwhat I shall tell thee, thou wilt know that which I purpose; but\nif thou hasten to kill me, it will profit thee nothing and we\nshall both die here.' 'O wily deceiver,' answered the wolf, 'how\nhopest thou to work my deliverance and thine own, that thou\nwouldst have me grant thee time? Speak and let me know thy\npurpose.' 'As for my purpose,' replied the fox, 'it was such as\ndeserves that thou reward me handsomely for it; for when I heard\nthy promises and thy confession of thy past ill conduct and\nregrets for not having earlier repented and done good and thy\nvows, shouldst thou escape from this thy stress, to leave harming\nthy fellows and others and forswear eating grapes and other\nfruits and devote thyself to humility and cut thy claws and break\nthy teeth and don wool and offer thyself as a sacrifice to God\nthe Most High,--when (I say), I heard thy repentance and vows of\namendment, compassion took me for thee, though before I was\nanxious for thy destruction, and I felt bound to save thee from\nthis thy present plight. So I let down my tail, that thou\nmightest grasp it and make thine escape. Yet wouldst thou not put\noff thy wonted violence and brutality nor soughtest to save\nthyself by fair means, but gavest me such a tug that I thought my\nsoul would depart my body, so that thou and I are become involved\nin the same stead of ruin and death. There is but one thing can\ndeliver us, to which if thou agree, we shall both escape; and\nafter it behoves thee to keep the vows thou hast made, and I will\nbe thy friend.' 'What is it thou hast to propose?' asked the\nwolf. 'It is,' answered the fox, 'that thou stand up, and I will\nclimb up on to thy head and so bring myself nigh on a level with\nthe surface of the earth. Then will I give a spring and as soon\nas I reach the ground, I will fetch thee what thou mayst lay hold\nof and make thine escape.' 'I have no faith in thy word,'\nrejoined the wolf, 'for the wise have said, \"He who practices\ntrust in the place of hate, errs,\" and \"He who trusts in the\nfaithless is a dupe; he who tries those that have been [already]\ntried (and found wanting) shall reap repentance and his days\nshall pass away without profit; and he who cannot distinguish\nbetween cases, giving each its due part, his good fortune will be\nsmall and his afflictions many.\" How well saith the poet:\n\nBe thy thought ever ill and of all men beware; Suspicion of good\n     parts the helpfullest was e'er.\nFor nothing brings a man to peril and distress As doth the doing\n     good (to men) and thinking fair.\n\nAnd another:\n\nBe constant ever in suspect; 'twill save thee aye anew; For he\n     who lives a wakeful life, his troubles are but few.\nMeet thou the foeman in thy way with open, smiling face; But in\n     thy heart set up a host shall battle with him do.\n\nAnd yet another:\n\nThy worst of foes is thy nearest friend, in whom thou puttest\n     trust; So look thou be on thy guard with men and use them\n     warily aye.\n'Tis weakness to augur well of fate; think rather ill of it. And\n     be in fear of its shifts and tricks, lest it should thee\n     bewray.'\n\n'Verily,' said the fox, 'distrust is not to be commended in\nevery case; on the contrary, a confiding disposition is the\ncharacteristic of a noble nature and its issue is freedom from\nterrors. Now it behoves thee, O wolf, to put in practice some\ndevice for thy deliverance from this thou art in and the escape\nof us both will be better than our death: so leave thy distrust\nand rancour; for if thou trust in me, one of two things will\nhappen; either I shall bring thee whereof to lay hold and escape,\nor I shall play thee false and save myself and leave thee; and\nthis latter may not be, for I am not safe from falling into\nsome such strait as this thou art in, which would be fitting\npunishment of perfidy. Indeed the adage saith, \"Faith is fair and\nperfidy foul.\" It behoves thee, therefore, to trust in me, for I\nam not ignorant of the vicissitudes of Fortune: so delay not to\ncontrive some device for our deliverance, for the case is too\nurgent for further talk.' 'To tell thee the truth,' replied the\nwolf, 'for all my want of confidence in thy fidelity, I knew what\nwas in thy mind and that thou wast minded to deliver me, whenas\nthou heardest my repentance, and I said in myself, \"If what he\nasserts be true, he will have repaired the ill he did: and if\nfalse, it rests with God to requite him.\" So, behold, I accept\nthy proposal, and if thou betray me, may thy perfidy be the cause\nof thy destruction!' Then he stood upright in the pit and taking\nthe fox upon his shoulders, raised him to the level of the\nground, whereupon the latter gave a spring and lighted on the\nsurface of the earth. When he found himself in safety, he fell\ndown senseless, and the wolf said to him, 'O my friend, neglect\nnot my case and delay not to deliver me.' The fox laughed\nderisively and replied, 'O dupe, it was but my laughing at thee\nand making mock of thee that threw me into thy hands: for when I\nheard thee profess repentance, mirth and gladness seized me and I\nfrisked about and danced and made merry, so that my tail fell\ndown into the pit and thou caughtest hold of it and draggedst me\ndown with thee. Why should I be other than a helper in thy\ndestruction, seeing that thou art of the host of the devil! I\ndreamt yesterday that I danced at thy wedding and related my\ndream to an interpreter, who told me that I should fall into a\ngreat danger and escape from it. So now I know that my falling\ninto thy hand and my escape are the fulfilment of my dream, and\nthou, O ignorant dupe, knowest me for thine enemy; so how canst\nthou, of thine ignorance and lack of wit, hope for deliverance at\nmy hands, after all thou hast heard of harsh words from me, and\nwherefore should I endeavour for thy deliverance, whenas the wise\nhave said, \"In the death of the wicked is peace for mankind and\npurgation for the earth?\" Yet, but that I fear to reap more\naffliction by keeping faith with thee than could follow perfidy,\nI would do my endeavour to save thee.' When the wolf heard this,\nhe bit his paws for despite and was at his wit's end what to do.\nThen he gave the fox fair words, but this availed nought; so he\nsaid to him softly, 'Verily, you foxes are the most pleasant\nspoken of folk and the subtlest in jest, and this is but a jest\nof thine; but all times are not good for sport and jesting.' 'O\ndolt,' answered the fox, 'jesting hath a limit, that the jester\noverpasses not, and deem not that God will again give thee power\nover me, after having once delivered me from thee.' Quoth the\nwolf, 'It behoves thee to endeavour for my release, by reason of\nour brotherhood and fellowship, and if thou deliver me, I will\nassuredly make fair thy reward.' 'The wise say,' rejoined the\nfox,' \"Fraternize not with the ignorant and wicked, for he will\nshame thee and not adorn thee,--nor with the liar, for if thou do\ngood, he will hide it, and if evil, he will publish it;\" and\nagain, \"There is help for everything but death: all may be\nmended, save natural depravity, and everything may be warded off,\nexcept Fate.\" As for the reward thou promisest me, I liken thee\ntherein to the serpent that fled from the charmer. A man saw her\naffrighted and said to her, \"What ails thee, O serpent?\" Quoth\nshe, \"I am fleeing from the serpent-charmer, who is in chase of\nme, and if thou wilt save me and hide me with thee, I will make\nfair thy recompense and do thee all manner of kindness.\" So he\ntook her, moved both by desire of the promised recompense and a\nwish to find favour with God, and hid her in his bosom. When the\ncharmer had passed and gone his way and the serpent had no longer\nany reason to fear, he said to her, \"Where is the recompense thou\ndidst promise me? Behold, I have saved thee from that thou\ndreadest.\" \"Tell me where I shall bite thee,\" replied she, \"for\nthou knowest we overpass not that recompense.\" So saying, she\ngave him a bite, of which he died. And I liken thee, O dullard,\nto the serpent in her dealings with the man. Hast thou not heard\nwhat the poet says?\n\nTrust not in one in whose heart thou hast made wrath to abide And\n     thinkest his anger at last is over and pacified.\nVerily vipers, though smooth and soft to the feel and the eye And\n     graceful of movements they be, yet death-dealing venom they\n     hide.'\n\n'O glib-tongue, lord of the fair face,' said the wolf, 'thou art\nnot ignorant of my case and of men's fear of me and knowest how I\nassault the strong places and root up the vines. Wherefore, do as\nI bid thee and bear thyself to me as a servant to his lord.' 'O\nstupid dullard,' answered the fox, 'that seekest a vain thing, I\nmarvel at thy stupidity and effrontery, in that thou biddest me\nserve thee and order myself towards thee as I were a slave bought\nwith thy money; but thou shalt see what is in store for thee, in\nthe way of breaking thy head with stones and knocking out thy\ntraitor's teeth.' So saying, he went up to a hill that gave upon\nthe vineyard and standing there, called out to the people of the\nplace, nor did he give over crying, till he woke them and they,\nseeing him, came up to him in haste. He held his ground till they\ndrew near him and near the pit, when he turned and fled. So they\nlooked into the pit and spying the wolf, fell to pelting him with\nheavy stones, nor did they leave smiting him with sticks and\nstones and piercing him with lances, till they killed him and\nwent away; whereupon the fox returned to the pit and looking\ndown, saw the wolf dead: so he wagged his head for excess of joy\nand chanted the following verses:\n\nFate took the soul o' the wolf and snatched it far away; Foul\n     fall it for a soul that's lost and perished aye!\nHow oft, O Gaffer Grim, my ruin hast thou sought! But unrelenting\n     bale is fallen on thee this day.\nThou fellst into a pit, wherein there's none may fall Except the\n     blasts of death blow on him for a prey.\n\nThen he abode alone in the vineyard, secure and fearing no hurt.\n\n\n\n\n                   THE MOUSE AND THE WEASEL.\n\n\n\nA mouse and a weasel once dwelt in the house of a poor peasant,\none of whose friends fell sick and the doctor prescribed him\nhusked sesame. So he sought of one of his comrades sesame and\ngave the peasant a measure thereof to husk for him; and he\ncarried it home to his wife and bade her dress it. So she steeped\nit and husked it and spread it out to dry. When the weasel saw\nthe grain, he came up to it and fell to carrying it away to his\nhole, nor stinted all day, till he had borne off the most of it.\nPresently, in came the peasant's wife, and seeing great part of\nthe sesame gone, stood awhile wondering; after which she sat down\nto watch and find out the cause. After awhile, out came the\nweasel to carry off more of the grain, but spying the woman\nseated there, knew that she was on the watch for him and said to\nhimself, 'Verily, this affair is like to end ill. I fear me this\nwoman is on the watch for me and Fortune is no friend to those\nwho look not to the issues: so I must do a fair deed, whereby I\nmay manifest my innocence and wash out all the ill I have done.'\nSo saying, he began to take of the sesame in his hole and carry\nit out and lay it back upon the rest. The woman stood by and\nseeing the weasel do thus, said in herself, 'Verily, this is not\nthe thief, for he brings it back from the hole of him that stole\nit and returns it to its place. Indeed, he hath done us a\nkindness in restoring us the sesame and the reward of those that\ndo us good is that we do them the like. It is clear that this is\nnot he who stole the grain. But I will not leave watching till I\nfind out who is the thief.' The weasel guessed what was in her\nmind, so he went to the mouse and said to her, 'O my sister,\nthere is no good in him who does not observe the claims of\nneighbourship and shows no constancy in friendship.' 'True, O my\nfriend,' answered the mouse, 'and I delight in thee and in thy\nneighbourhood; but what is the motive of thy speech?' Quoth the\nweasel, 'The master of the house has brought home sesame and has\neaten his fill of it, he and his family, and left much; every\nliving soul has eaten of it, and if thou take of it in thy turn,\nthou art worthier thereof than any other.' This pleased the mouse\nand she chirped and danced and frisked her ears and tail, and\ngreed for the grain deluded her; so she rose at once and issuing\nforth of her hole, saw the sesame peeled and dry, shining with\nwhiteness, and the woman sitting watching, armed with a stick.\nThe mouse could not contain herself, but taking no thought to the\nissue of the affair, ran up to the sesame and fell to messing it\nand eating of it; whereupon the woman smote her with the stick\nand cleft her head in twain: so her greed and heedlessness of the\nissue of her actions led to her destruction.\"\n\n\"By Allah,\" said the Sultan to Shehrzad, \"this is a goodly story!\nHast thou any story bearing upon the beauty of true friendship\nand the observance of its obligations in time of distress and\nrescuing from destruction?\" \"Yes, answered she; \"it hath teached\nme that\n\n\n\n\n                     THE CAT AND THE CROW.\n\n\n\nA crow and a cat once lived in brotherhood. One day, as they were\ntogether under a tree, they spied a leopard making towards them,\nof which they had not been ware, till he was close upon them. The\ncrow at once flew up to the top of the tree; but the cat abode\nconfounded and said to the crow, 'O my friend, hast thou no\ndevice to save me? All my hope is in thee.' 'Indeed,' answered\nthe crow, 'it behoveth brethren, in case of need, to cast about\nfor a device, whenas any peril overtakes them, and right well\nsaith the poet:\n\nHe is a right true friend who is with thee indeed And will\n     himself undo, to help thee in thy need,\nWho, when love's severance is by evil fate decreed, To join your\n     sundered lives will risk his own and bleed.'\n\nNow hard by the tree were shepherds with their dogs; so the crow\nflew towards them and smote the face of the earth with his wings,\ncawing and crying out, to draw their attention. Then he went up\nto one of the dogs and flapped his wings in his eyes and flew up\na little way, whilst the dog ran after him, thinking to catch\nhim. Presently, one of the shepherds raised his head and saw the\nbird flying near the ground and lighting now and then; so he\nfollowed him, and the crow gave not over flying just out of the\ndogs' reach and tempting them to pursue and snap at him: but as\nsoon as they came near him, he would fly up a little; and so he\nbrought them to the tree. When they saw the leopard, they rushed\nupon it, and it turned and fled. Now the leopard thought to eat\nthe cat, but the latter was saved by the craft of its friend the\ncrow. This story, O King, shows that the friendship of the\nvirtuous saves and delivers from difficulties and dangers.\n\n\n\n\n                     THE FOX AND THE CROW.\n\n\n\nA fox once dwelt in a cave of a certain mountain, and as often as\na cub was born to him and grew stout, he would eat it, for,\nexcept he did so, he had died of hunger; and this was grievous to\nhim. Now on the top of the same mountain a crow had made his\nnest, and the fox said to himself, 'I have a mind to strike up a\nfriendship with this crow and make a comrade of him, that he may\nhelp me to my day's meat, for he can do what I cannot.' So he\nmade for the crow's stead, and when he came within earshot, he\nsaluted him, saying, 'O my neighbour, verily a true-believer\nhath two claims upon his true-believing neighbour, that of\nneighbourliness and that of community of faith; and know, O my\nfriend, that thou art my neighbour and hast a claim upon me,\nwhich it behoves me to observe, the more that I have been long\nthy neighbour. Moreover, God hath set in my breast a store of\nlove to thee, that bids me speak thee fair and solicit thy\nfriendship. What sayst thou?' 'Verily,' answered the crow, 'the\nbest speech is that which is soothest, and most like thou\nspeakest with thy tongue that which is not in thy heart. I fear\nlest thy friendship be but of the tongue, outward, and shine\nenmity of the heart, inward; for that thou art the Eater and I\nthe Eaten, and to hold aloof one from the other were more apt to\nus than friendship and fellowship. What, then, maketh thee seek\nthat thou mayst not come at and desire what may not be, seeing\nthat thou art of the beast and I of the bird kind? Verily, this\nbrotherhood [thou profferest] may not be, neither were it\nseemly.' He who knoweth the abiding-place of excellent things,'\nrejoined the fox, 'betters choice in what he chooses therefrom,\nso haply he may win to advantage his brethren; and indeed I\nshould love to be near thee and I have chosen thy companionship,\nto the end that we may help one another to our several desires;\nand success shall surely wait upon our loves. I have store of\ntales of the goodliness of friendship, which, an it like thee, I\nwill relate to thee.' 'Thou hast my leave,' answered the crow;\n'let me hear thy story and weigh it and judge of thine intent\nthereby.' 'Hear then, O my friend,' rejoined the fox, 'that which\nis told of a mouse and a flea and which bears out what I have\nsaid to thee.' 'How so?' asked the crow. 'It is said,' answered\nthe fox, 'that\n\n\n\n\nThe Mouse and the Flea.\n\n\n\nA mouse once dwelt in the house of a rich and busy merchant. One\nnight, a flea took shelter in the merchant's bed and finding his\nbody soft and being athirst, drank of his blood. The smart of the\nbite awoke the merchant, who sat up and called to his serving men\nand maids. So they hastened to him and tucking up their sleeves,\nfell to searching for the flea. As soon as the latter was ware of\nthe search, he turned to flee and happening on the mouse's hole,\nentered it. When the mouse saw him, she said to him, \"What brings\nthee in to me, seeing that thou art not of my kind and canst not\ntherefore be assured of safety from violence or ill-usage?\"\n\"Verily,\" answered the flea, \"I took refuge in thy dwelling from\nslaughter and come to thee, seeking thy protection and not\nanywise coveting thy house, nor shall aught of mischief betide\nthee from me nor aught to make thee leave it. Nay, I hope to\nrepay thy favours to me with all good, and thou shalt assuredly\nsee and praise the issue of my words.\" \"If the case be as thou\nsayest,\" answered the mouse, \"be at thine ease here; for nought\nshall betide thee, save what may pleasure thee; there shall fall\non thee rain of peace alone nor shall aught befall thee, but what\nbefalls me. I will give thee my love without stint and do not\nthou regret thy loss of the merchant's blood nor lament for thy\nsubsistence from him, but be content with what little of\nsufficient sustenance thou canst lightly come by; for indeed this\nis the safer for thee, and I have heard that one of the moral\npoets saith as follows:\n\nI have trodden the road of content and retirement And lived out\n     my life with whatever betided;\nWith a morsel of bread and a draught of cold water, Coarse salt\n     and patched garments content I abided.\nIf God willed it, He made my life easy of living; Else, I was\n     contented with what He provided.\"\n\n\"O my sister,\" rejoined the flea, \"I hearken to thine injunction\nand submit myself to yield thee obedience, nor have I power to\ngainsay thee, till life be fulfilled, in this fair intent.\"\n\"Purity of intent suffices to sincere affection,\" replied the\nmouse. So love befell and was contracted between them and after\nthis, the flea used (by night) to go to the merchant's bed and\nnot exceed moderation (in sucking his blood) and harbour with the\nmouse by day in the latter's hole. One night, the merchant\nbrought home great store of dinars and began to turn them over.\nWhen the mouse heard the chink of the coin, she put her head out\nof her hole and gazed at it, till the merchant laid it under his\npillow and went to sleep, when she said to the flea, \"Seest thou\nnot the favourable opportunity and the great good fortune! Hast\nthou any device to bring us to our desire of yonder dinars?\"\n\"Verily,\" answered the flea, \"it is not good for one to strive\nfor aught, but if he be able to compass his desire; for if he\nlack of ableness thereto, he falls into that of which he should\nbe ware and attains not his wish for weakness, though he use all\npossible cunning, like the sparrow that picks up grain and falls\ninto the net and is caught by the fowler. Thou hast no strength\nto take the dinars and carry them into thy hole, nor can I do\nthis; on the contrary, I could not lift a single dinar; so what\nhast thou to do with them?\" Quoth the mouse, \"I have made me\nthese seventy openings, whence I may go out, and set apart a\nplace for things of price, strong and safe; and if thou canst\ncontrive to get the merchant out of the house, I doubt not of\nsuccess, so Fate aid me.\" \"I will engage to get him out of the\nhouse for thee,\" answered the flea and going to the merchant's\nbed, gave him a terrible bite, such as he had never before felt,\nthen fled to a place of safety. The merchant awoke and sought for\nthe flea, but finding it not, lay down again on his other side.\nThen came the flea and bit him again, more sharply than before.\nSo he lost patience and leaving his bed, went out and lay down on\nthe bench before the door and slept there and awoke not till the\nmorning. Meanwhile the mouse came out and fell to carrying the\ndinars into her hole, till not one was left; and when it was day,\nthe merchant began to accuse the folk and imagine all manner of\nthings. And know, O wise, clear-sighted and experienced crow\n(continued the fox), that I only tell thee this to the intent\nthat thou mayst reap the recompense of thy goodness to me, even\nas the mouse reaped the reward of her kindness to the flea; for\nsee how he repaid her and requited her with the goodliest of\nrequitals.' Quoth the crow, 'It lies with the benefactor to show\nbenevolence or not; nor is it incumbent on us to behave kindly to\nwhoso seeks an impossible connection. If I show thee favour, who\nart by nature my enemy, I am the cause of my own destruction, and\nthou, O fox, art full of craft and cunning. Now those, whose\ncharacteristics these are, are not to be trusted upon oath, and\nhe who is not to be trusted upon oath, there is no good faith in\nhim. I heard but late of thy perfidious dealing with thy comrade\nthe wolf and how thou leddest him into destruction by thy perfidy\nand guile, and this though he was of thine own kind and thou\nhadst long companied with him; yet didst thou not spare him; and\nif thou didst thus with thy fellow, that was of thine own kind,\nhow can I have confidence in thy fidelity and what would be thy\ndealing with thine enemy of other than thy kind? Nor can I liken\nthee and me but to the Falcon and the Birds.' 'How so?' asked the\nfox. 'They say,' answered the crow, 'that\n\n\n\n\nThe Falcon and the Birds.\n\n\n\nThere was once a falcon who was a cruel tyrant in the days of his\nyouth, so that the beasts of prey of the air and of the earth\nfeared him and none was safe from his mischief; and many were the\ninstances of his tyranny, for he did nothing but oppress and\ninjure all the other birds. As the years passed over him, he grew\nweak and his strength failed, so that he was oppressed with\nhunger; but his cunning increased with the waning of his strength\nand he redoubled in his endeavour and determined to go to the\ngeneral rendezvous of the birds, that he might eat their\nleavings, and in this manner he gained his living by cunning,\nwhenas he could do so no longer by strength and violence. And\nthou, O fox, art like this: if thy strength fail thee, thy\ncunning fails not; and I doubt not that thy seeking my friendship\nis a device to get thy subsistence; but I am none of those who\nput themselves at thy mercy, for God hath given me strength in my\nwings and caution in my heart and sight in my eyes, and I know\nthat he who apeth a stronger than he, wearieth himself and is\noften destroyed, wherefore I fear for thee lest, if thou ape a\nstronger than thou, there befall thee what befell the sparrow.'\n'What befell the sparrow?' asked the fox. 'I conjure thee, by\nAllah, to tell me his story.' 'I have heard,' replied the crow,\n'that\n\n\n\n\nThe Sparrow and the Eagle.\n\n\n\nA sparrow was once hovering over a sheep-fold, when he saw a\ngreat eagle swoop down upon a lamb and carry it off in his claws.\nThereupon the sparrow clapped his wings and said, \"I will do even\nas the eagle hath done;\" and he conceited himself and aped a\ngreater than he. So he flew down forthright and lighted on the\nback of a fat ram, with a thick fleece that was become matted, by\nhis lying in his dung and stale, till it was like felt. As soon\nas the sparrow lighted on the sheep's back, he clapped his wings\nand would have flown away, but his feet became tangled in the\nwool and he could not win free. All this while the shepherd was\nlooking on, having seen as well what happened with the eagle as\nwith the sparrow; so he came up to the latter in a rage and\nseized him. Then he plucked out his wing-feathers and tying his\nfeet with a twine, carried him to his children and threw him to\nthem. \"What is this?\" asked they and he answered, \"This is one\nthat aped a greater than himself and came to grief.\" Now thou, O\nfox,' continued the crow, 'art like this and I would have thee\nbeware of aping a greater than thou, lest thou perish. This is\nall I have to say to thee; so go from me in peace.' When the fox\ndespaired of the crow's friendship, he turned away, groaning and\ngnashing his teeth for sorrow and disappointment, which when the\ncrow heard, he said to him, 'O fox, why dost thou gnash thy\nteeth?' 'Because I find thee wilier than myself,' answered the\nfox and made off to his den.\"\n\n\"O Shehrzad,\" said the Sultan, \"how excellent and delightful are\nthese thy stories! Hast thou more of the like edifying tales?\"\n\"It is said,\" answered she, \"that\n\n\n\n\n                 THE HEDGEHOG AND THE PIGEONS.\n\n\n\nA hedgehog once took up his abode under a palm-tree, on which\nroosted a pair of wood-pigeons, that had made their nest there\nand lived an easy life, and he said to himself, 'These pigeons\neat of the fruit of the palm-tree, and I have no means of getting\nat it; but needs must I go about with them.' So he dug a hole at\nthe foot of the palm-tree and took up his lodging there, he and\nhis wife. Moreover, he made a place of prayer beside the hole, in\nwhich he shut himself and made a show of piety and abstinence and\nrenunciation of the world. The male pigeon saw him praying and\nworshipping and inclined to him for his much devoutness and said\nto him, 'How long hast thou been thus?' 'Thirty years,' replied\nthe hedgehog. 'What is thy food?' asked the bird and the other\nanswered, 'What falls from the palm-tree.' 'And what is thy\nclothing?' asked the pigeon. 'Prickles,' replied the hedgehog; 'I\nprofit by their roughness.' 'And why,' continued the bird, 'hast\nthou chosen this place rather than another?' 'I chose it,'\nanswered the hedgehog, 'that I might guide the erring into\nthe right way and teach the ignorant.' 'I had thought thee\nother-guise than this,' rejoined the pigeon; but now I feel a\nyearning for that which is with thee.' Quoth the hedgehog, 'I\nfear lest thy deed belie thy speech and thou be even as the\nhusbandman, who neglected to sow in season, saying, \"I fear lest\nthe days bring me not to my desire, and I shall only waste my\nsubstance by making haste to sow.\" When the time of harvest came\nand he saw the folk gathering in their crops, he repented him of\nwhat he had lost by his tardiness and died of chagrin and\nvexation.' 'What then shall I do,' asked the pigeon, 'that I\nmay be freed from the bonds of the world and give myself up\naltogether to the service of my Lord?' 'Betake thee to preparing\nfor the next world,' answered the hedgehog, 'and content thyself\nwith a pittance of food.' 'How can I do this,' said the pigeon,\n'I that am a bird and may not go beyond the palm-tree whereon is\nmy food? Nor, could I do so, do I know another place, wherein I\nmay abide.' Quoth the hedgehog, 'Thou canst shake down of the\nfruit of the palm what shall suffice thee and thy wife for a\nyear's victual; then do ye take up your abode in a nest under the\ntree, that ye may seek to be guided in the right way, and do ye\nturn to what ye have shaken down and store it up against the time\nof need; and when the fruits are spent and the time is long upon\nyou, address yourselves to abstinence from food.' 'May God\nrequite thee with good,' exclaimed the pigeon, 'for the fair\nintent with which thou hast reminded me of the world to come and\nhast directed me into the right way!' Then he and his wife busied\nthemselves in knocking down the dates, till nothing was left on\nthe palm-tree, whilst the hedgehog, finding whereof to eat,\nrejoiced and filled his den with the dates, storing them up for\nhis subsistence and saying in himself, 'When the pigeon and his\nwife have need of their provant, they will seek it of me,\ntrusting in my devoutness and abstinence; and from what they have\nheard of my pious counsels and admonitions, they will draw near\nunto me. Then will I seize them and eat them, after which I shall\nhave the place and all that drops from the palm-tree, to suffice\nme.' Presently the pigeon and his wife came down and finding that\nthe hedgehog had carried off all the dates, said to him, 'O pious\nand devout-spoken hedgehog of good counsel, we can find no sign\nof the dates and know not on what else we shall feed.' 'Belike,'\nreplied the hedgehog, 'the winds have carried them away; but the\nturning from the provision to the Provider is of the essence of\nprosperity, and He who cut the corners of the mouth will not\nleave it without victual.' And he gave not over preaching to them\nthus and making a show of piety and cozening them with fine\nwords, till they put faith in him and entered his den, without\nsuspicion, where-upon he sprang to the door and gnashed his\ntusks, and the pigeon, seeing his perfidy manifested, said to\nhim, 'What has to-night to do with yester-night? Knowest thou not\nthat there is a Helper for the oppressed? Beware of treachery and\ncraft, lest there befall thee what befell the sharpers who\nplotted against the merchant.' 'What was that?' asked the\nhedgehog. 'I have heard tell,' answered the pigeon, 'that\n\n\n\n\nThe Merchant and the Two Sharpers.\n\n\n\nThere was once in a city called Sendeh a very wealthy merchant,\nwho made ready merchandise and set out with it for such a city,\nthinking to sell it there. There followed him two sharpers, who\nhad made up into bales what goods they could get and giving out\nto him that they also were merchants, companied with him by the\nway. At the first halting-place, they agreed to play him false\nand take his goods; but, at the same time, each purposed inwardly\nfoul play to the other, saying in himself, \"If I can cheat my\ncomrade, it will be well for me and I shall have all to myself.\"\nSo each took food and putting therein poison, brought it to his\nfellow; and they both ate of the poisoned mess and died. Now they\nhad been sitting talking with the merchant; so when they left him\nand were long absent from him, he sought for them and found them\nboth dead; whereby he knew that they were sharpers, who had\nplotted to play him foul, but their treachery had recoiled upon\nthemselves; so the merchant was preserved and took what they\nhad.'\"\n\n\"O Shehrzad,\" said the Sultan, \"verily thou hast aroused me to\nall whereof I was negligent! Continue to edify me with these\nfables.\" Quoth she, \"It has come to my knowledge, O King, that\n\n\n\n\n                   THE THIEF AND HIS MONKEY.\n\n\n\nA certain man had a monkey and was a thief, who never entered one\nof the markets of the city in which he dwelt, but he made off\nwith great purchase. One day, he saw a man offering for sale worn\nclothes, and he went calling them in the market, but none bid for\nthem, and all to whom he showed them refused to buy of him.\nPresently, the thief saw him put the clothes in a wrapper and sit\ndown to rest for weariness; so he made the ape sport before him,\nand whilst he was busy gazing at it, stole the parcel from him.\nThen he took the ape and made off to a lonely place, where he\nopened the wrapper and taking out the old clothes, wrapped them\nin a piece of costly stuff. This he carried to another market and\nexposed it for sale with what was therein, making it a condition\nthat it should not be opened and tempting the folk with the\nlowness of the price he set on it. A certain man saw the wrapper\nand it pleased him; so he bought the parcel on these terms and\ncarried it home, doubting not but he had gotten a prize. When his\nwife saw it, she said, 'What is this?' And he answered, 'It is\nprecious stuff, that I have bought below its worth, meaning to\nsell it again and take the profit.' 'O dupe,' rejoined she,\n'would this stuff be sold under its value, except it were stolen?\nDost thou not know that he who buys a ware, without examining it,\nerreth? And indeed he is like unto the weaver.' 'What is the\nstory of the weaver?' asked he; and she said, 'I have heard tell\nthat\n\n\n\n\nThe Foolish Weaver.\n\n\n\nThere was once in a certain village a weaver who could not earn\nhis living save by excessive toil. One day, it chanced that a\nrich man of the neighbourhood made a feast and bade the folk\nthereto. The weaver was present and saw such as were richly clad\nserved with delicate meats and made much of by the master of the\nhouse, for what he saw of their gallant array. So he said in\nhimself, \"If I change this my craft for another, easier and\nbetter considered and paid, I shall amass store of wealth and\nbuy rich clothes, that so I may rise in rank and be exalted in\nmen's eyes and become like unto these.\" Presently, one of the\nmountebanks there climbed up to the top of a steep and lofty wall\nand threw himself down, alighting on his feet; which when the\nweaver saw, he said to himself, \"Needs must I do as this fellow\nhath done, for surely I shall not fail of it.\" So he climbed up\non to the wall and casting himself down to the ground, broke his\nneck and died forthright. I tell thee this (continued the woman)\nthat thou mayst get thy living by that fashion thou knowest and\nthroughly understandest, lest greed enter into thee and thou lust\nafter what is not of thy competence.' Quoth he, 'Not every wise\nman is saved by his wisdom nor is every fool lost by his folly. I\nhave seen a skilful charmer versed in the ways of serpents,\nbitten by a snake and killed, and I have known others prevail\nover serpents, who had no skill in them and no knowledge of their\nways.' And he hearkened not to his wife, but went on buying\nstolen goods below their value, till he fell under suspicion and\nperished.\n\n\n\n\n                  THE SPARROW AND THE PEACOCK.\n\n\n\nThere was once a sparrow, that used every day to visit a certain\nking of the birds and was the first to go in to him and the last\nto leave him. One day, a company of birds assembled on a high\nmountain, and one of them said to another, 'Verily, we are waxed\nmany and many are the differences between us, and needs must we\nhave a king to order our affairs, so shall we be at one and our\ndifferences will cease.' Thereupon up came the sparrow and\ncounselled them to make the peacock,--that is, the prince he used\nto visit,--king over them. So they chose the peacock to their\nking and he bestowed largesse on them and made the sparrow his\nsecretary and vizier. Now the sparrow was wont bytimes to leave\nhis assiduity [in the personal service of the king] and look into\naffairs [in general]. One day, he came not at the usual time,\nwhereat the peacock was sore troubled; but presently, he returned\nand the peacock said to him, 'What hath delayed thee, that art\nthe nearest to me of all my servants and the dearest?' Quoth the\nsparrow, 'I have seen a thing that is doubtful to me and at which\nI am affrighted.' 'What was it thou sawest?' asked the king; and\nthe sparrow answered, 'I saw a man set up a net, hard by my nest,\nand drive its pegs fast into the ground. Then he strewed grain in\nits midst and withdrew afar off. As I sat watching what he would\ndo, behold, fate and destiny drove thither a crane and his wife,\nwhich fell into the midst of the net and began to cry out;\nwhereupon the fowler came up and took them. This troubled me, and\nthis is the reason of my absence from thee, O king of the age;\nbut never again will I abide in that nest, for fear of the net.'\n'Depart not thy dwelling,' rejoined the peacock; 'for precaution\nwill avail thee nothing against destiny.' And the sparrow obeyed\nhis commandment, saying, 'I will take patience and not depart, in\nobedience to the king.' So he continued to visit the king and\ncarry him food and water, taking care for himself, till one day\nhe saw two sparrows fighting on the ground and said in himself,\n'How can I, who am the king's vizier, look on and see sparrows\nfighting in my neighbourhood? By Allah, I must make peace between\nthem!' So he flew down to them, to reconcile them; but the fowler\ncast the net over them and taking the sparrow in question, gave\nhim to his fellow, saying, 'Take care of him, for he is the\nfattest and finest I ever saw.' But the sparrow said in himself,\n'I have fallen into that which I feared and it was none but the\npeacock that inspired me with a false security. It availed me\nnothing to beware of the stroke of fate, since for him who taketh\nprecaution there is no fleeing from destiny; and how well says\nthe poet:\n\nThat which is not to be shall by no means be brought To pass, and\n     that which is to be shall come, unsought,\nEven at the time ordained; but he that knoweth not The truth is\n     still deceived and finds his hopes grown nought.'\n\n\n\n\n           STORY OF ALI BEN BEKKAR AND SHEMSENNEHAR.\n\n\n\nThere lived once [at Baghdad] in the days of the Khalif Haroun er\nReshid a merchant named Aboulhusn Ali ben Tahir, who was great of\ngoods and grace, handsome and pleasant-mannered, beloved of all.\nHe used to enter the royal palace without asking leave, for all\nthe Khalif's concubines and slave-girls loved him, and he was\nwont to company with Er Reshid and recite verses to him and tell\nhim witty stories. Withal he sold and bought in the merchants'\nbazaar, and there used to sit in his shop a youth named Ali ben\nBekkar, a descendant of the ancient kings of Persia, who was fair\nof face and elegant of shape, with rosy cheeks and joined\neyebrows, sweet of speech and laughing-lipped, a lover of mirth\nand gaiety. It chanced one day, as they sat laughing and talking,\nthere came up ten damsels like moons, every one of them\naccomplished in beauty and symmetry, and amongst them a young\nlady riding on a mule with housings of brocade and golden\nstirrups. She was swathed in a veil of fine stuff, with a girdle\nof gold-embroidered silk, and was even as says the poet:\n\nShe hath a skin like very silk and a soft speech and sweet;\n     Gracious to all, her words are nor too many nor too few.\nTwo eyes she hath, quoth God Most High, \"Be,\" and forthright they\n     were; They work as wine upon the hearts of those whom they\n     ensue.\nAdd to my passion, love of her, each night; and, solacement Of\n     loves, the Resurrection be thy day of rendezvous!\n\nThe lady alighted at Aboulhusn's shop and sitting down there,\nsaluted him, and he returned her salute. When Ali ben Bekkar saw\nher, she ravished his understanding and he rose to go away; but\nshe said to him, 'Sit in thy place. We came to thee and thou\ngoest away: this is not fair.' 'O my lady,' answered he, 'by\nAllah, I flee from what I see; for the tongue of the case saith:\n\nShe's the sun and her dwelling's in heaven on high; Look, then,\n     to thine heart thou fair patience commend.\nThou mayst not climb up to her place in the sky, Nor may she to\n     thee from her heaven descend.'\n\nWhen she heard this, she smiled and said to Aboulhusn, 'What is\nthe name of this young man?' 'He is a stranger,' answered he.\n'What countryman is he?' asked she, and the merchant replied, 'He\nis a descendant of the (ancient) kings of Persia; his name is Ali\nben Bekkar, and indeed it behoves us to use strangers with\nhonour.' 'When my damsel comes to thee,' rejoined she, 'come thou\nat once to us and bring him with thee, that we may entertain him\nin our abode, lest he blame us and say, \"There is no hospitality\nin the people of Baghdad:\" for niggardliness is the worst fault\nthat a man can have. Thou hearest what I say to thee and if thou\ndisobey me, thou wilt incur my displeasure and I will never again\nvisit thee or salute thee.' 'On my head and eyes,' answered\nAboulhusn; 'God preserve me from thy displeasure, fair lady!'\nThen she rose and went away, leaving Ali ben Bekkar in a state\nof bewilderment. Presently, the damsel came and said to the\nmerchant, 'O my lord Aboulhusn, my lady Shemsennehar, the\nfavourite of the Commander of the Faithful Haroun er Reshid, bids\nthee to her, thee and thy friend, my lord Ali ben Bekkar.' So he\nrose and taking Ali with him, followed the girl to the Khalif's\npalace, where she carried them into a chamber and made them sit\ndown. They talked together awhile, till she set trays of food\nbefore them, and they ate and washed their hands. Then she\nbrought them wine, and they drank and made merry; after which she\nbade them rise and carried them into another chamber, vaulted\nupon four columns and adorned and furnished after the goodliest\nfashion with various kinds of furniture and decorations, as it\nwere one of the pavilions of Paradise. They were amazed at the\nrarities they saw and as they were gazing at these marvels, up\ncame ten damsels, like moons, with a proud and graceful gait,\ndazzling the sight and confounding the wit, and ranged themselves\nin two ranks, as they were of the houris of Paradise. After\nawhile, in came ten other damsels, with lutes and other\ninstruments of mirth and music in their hands, who saluted the\ntwo guests and sitting down, fell to tuning their instruments.\nThen they rose and standing before them, played and sang and\nrecited verses: and indeed each one of them was a seduction to\nthe faithful. Whilst they were thus occupied, there entered other\nten damsels like unto them, high-bosomed and of an equal age,\nwith black eyes and rosy cheeks, joined eyebrows and languorous\nlooks, a seduction to the faithful and a delight to all who\nlooked upon them, clad in various kinds of coloured silks, with\nornaments that amazed the wit. They took up their station at the\ndoor, and there succeeded them yet other ten damsels, fairer than\nthey, clad in gorgeous apparel, such as defies description; and\nthey also stationed themselves by the door. Then in came a band\nof twenty damsels and amongst them the lady Shemsennehar, as she\nwere the moon among the stars, scarved with the luxuriance of her\nhair and dressed in a blue robe and a veil of silk, embroidered\nwith gold and jewels. About her middle she wore a girdle set with\nvarious kinds of precious stones, and she advanced with a\ngraceful and coquettish gait, till she came to the couch that\nstood at the upper end of the chamber and seated herself thereon.\nWhen Ali ben Bekkar saw her, he repeated the following couplets:\n\nYes, this is she indeed, the source of all my ill, For whom with\n     long desire I languish at Love's will.\nNear her, I feel my soul on fire and bones worn waste For\n     yearning after her that doth my heart fulfih\n\nThen said he to Aboulhusn, 'Thou hadst dealt more kindly with me\nto have forewarned me of these things; that I might have prepared\nmy mind and taken patience to support what hath befallen me ;'\nand he wept and groaned and complained. 'O my brother,' replied\nAboulhusn, 'I meant thee nought but good; but I feared to tell\nthee of this, lest such transport should overcome thee as might\nhinder thee from foregathering with her and intervene between\nthee and her: but take courage and be of good heart, for she is\nwell disposed to thee and inclineth to favour thee.' 'What is the\nlady's name?' asked Ali ben Bekkar. 'She is called Shemsennehar,'\nanswered Aboulhusn 'she is one of the favourites of the Commander\nof the Faithful Haroun er Reshid and this is the palace of the\nKhalifate.' Then Shemsennehar sat gazing upon Ali ben Bekkar's\ncharms and he upon hers, till each was engrossed with love of the\nother. Presently, she commanded the damsels to sit; so they sat\ndown, each in her place, on a couch before one of the windows,\nand she bade them sing; whereupon one of them took a lute and\nsang the following verses:\n\nTwice be the message to my love made known, And take the answer\n     from his lips alone.\nTo thee, O monarch of the fair, I come And stand, of this my case\n     to make my moan.\nO thou my sovereign, dear my heart and life, That in my inmost\n     bosom hast thy throne,\nPrithee, bestow a kiss upon thy slave; If not as gift, then even\n     as a loan.\nI will repay it, (mayst thou never fail!) Even as I took it, not\n     a little gone.\nOr, if thou wish for more than thou didst lend, Take and content\n     thee; it is all thine own.\nMay health's fair garment ever gladden thee, Thee that o'er me\n     the wede of woe hast thrown!\n\nHer singing charmed Ali ben Bekkar, and he said to her, 'Sing me\nmore of the like of these verses.' So she struck the strings and\nsang as follows:\n\nBy excess of estrangement, beloved mine, Thou hast taught long\n     weeping unto my eyne.\nO joy of my sight and its desire, O goal of my hopes, my\n     worship's shrine,\nHave pity on one, whose eyes are drowned In the sorrowful lover's\n     tears of brine!\n\n\nWhen she had finished, Shemsennehar said to another damsel, 'Sing\nus somewhat, thou.' So she played a lively measure and sang the\nfollowing verses:\n\nHis looks 'twas made me drunken, in sooth, and not his wine; And\n     the grace of his gait has banished sleep from these eyes of\n     mine.\n'Twas not the wine-cup dazed me, but e'en his glossy curls; His\n     charms it was that raised me and not the juice o' the vine.\nHis winding browlocks have routed my patience, and my wit Is done\n     away by the beauties his garments do enshrine.[FN#5]\n\nWhen Shemsennehar heard this, she sighed heavily, and the song\npleased her. Then she bade another damsel sing; so she took the\nlute and chanted the following:\n\nA face that vies, indeed, with heaven's lamp, the sun; The\n     welling of youth's springs upon him scarce begun.\nHis curling whiskers write letters wherein the sense Of love in\n     the extreme is writ for every one.\nBeauty proclaimed of him, whenas with him it met, \"A stuff in\n     God's best loom was fashioned forth and done!\"\n\nWhen she had finished, Ali Ben Bekkar. said to the damsel nearest\nhim, 'Sing us somewhat, thou.' So she took the lute and sang\nthese verses:\n\nThe time of union's all too slight For coquetry and prudish\n     flight.\nNot thus the noble are. How long This deadly distance and\n     despite?\nAh, profit by the auspicious time, To sip the sweets of\n     love-delight.\n\nAli ben Bekkar followed up her song with plentiful tears; and\nwhen Shemsennehar saw him weeping and groaning and lamenting, she\nburned with love-longing and desire and passion and transport\nconsumed her. So she rose from the couch and came to the door of\nthe alcove, where Ali met her and they embraced and fell down\na-swoon in the doorway; whereupon the damsels came to them and\ncarrying them into the alcove, sprinkled rose-water upon them.\nWhen they revived, they missed Aboulhusn, who had hidden himself\nbehind a couch, and the young lady said, 'Where is Aboulhusn?' So\nhe showed himself to her from beside the couch, and she saluted\nhim, saying, 'I pray God to give me the means of requiting thee\nthy kindness!' Then she turned to Ali ben Bekkar and said to him,\n'O my lord, passion has not reached this pass with thee, without\ndoing the like with me; but there is nothing for it but to bear\npatiently what hath befallen us.' 'By Allah, O my lady,' rejoined\nhe, 'converse with thee may not content me nor gazing upon thee\nassuage the fire of my heart, nor will the love of thee, that\nhath mastered my soul, leave me, but with the passing away of my\nlife.' So saying, he wept and the tears ran down upon his cheeks,\nlike unstrung pearls. When Shemsennehar saw him weep, she wept\nfor his weeping; and Aboulhusn exclaimed, 'By Allah, I wonder at\nyour plight and am confounded at your behaviour; of a truth, your\naffair is amazing and your case marvellous. If ye weep thus, what\nwhile ye are yet together, how will it be when ye are parted?\nIndeed, this is no time for weeping and wailing, but for\nforegathering and gladness; rejoice, therefore, and make merry\nand weep no more.' Then Shemsennehar signed to a damsel, who went\nout and returned with handmaids bearing a table, whereon were\nsilver dishes, full of all manner rich meats. They set the table\nbefore them, and Shemsennehar began to eat and to feed Ali ben\nBekkar, till they were satisfied, when the table was removed and\nthey washed their hands. Presently the waiting-women brought\ncensors and casting bottles and sprinkled them with rose-water\nand incensed them with aloes and ambergris and other perfumes;\nafter which they set on dishes of graven gold, containing all\nmanner of sherbets, besides fruits and confections, all that the\nheart can desire or the eye delight in, and one brought a flagon\nof carnelian, full of wine. Then Shemsennehar chose out ten\nhandmaids and ten singing-women to attend on them and dismissing\nthe rest to their apartments, bade some of those who remained\nsmite the lute. They did as she bade them and one of them sang\nthe following verses:\n\nMy soul be a ransom for him who returned my salute with a smile\n     And revived in my breast the longing for union after\n     despair!\nThe hands of passion have brought my secret thoughts to the light\n     And that which is in my bosom unto my censors laid bare.\nThe very tears of my eyes press betwixt me and him, As though\n     they, even as I, enamoured of him were.\n\nWhen she had finished, Shemsennehar rose and filling a. cup,\ndrank it off, then filled it again and gave it to Ali ben Bekkar;\nafter which she bade another damsel sing; and she sang the\nfollowing verses:\n\nMy tears, as they flow, are alike to my wine, as I brim it up!\n     For my eyes pour forth of their lids the like of what froths\n     in my cup.[FN#6]\nBy Allah, I know not, for sure, whether my eyelids it is Run over\n     with wine or else of my tears it is that I sup!\n\nThen Ali ben Bekkar drank off his cup and returned it to\nShemsennehar. She filled it again and gave it to Aboulhusn, who\ndrank it off. Then she took the lute, saying, 'None shall sing\nover my cup but myself.' So she tuned the strings and sang these\nverses:\n\nThe hurrying tears upon his cheeks course down from either eye'\n     For very passion, and love's fires within his heart flame\n     high.\nHe weeps whilst near to those he loves, for fear lest they\n     depart: So, whether near or far they be, his tears are never\n     dry.\n\nAnd again:\n\nOur lives for thee, O cupbearer, O thou whom beauty's self From\n     the bright parting of thy hair doth to the feet army!\nThe full moon[FN#7] from thy collar-folds rises, the\n     Pleiades[FN#8] Shine from thy mouth and in thine hands there\n     beams the sun of day.[FN#9]\nI trow, the goblets wherewithal thou mak'st us drunk are those\n     Thou pourest to us from thine eyes, that lead the wit\n     astray.\nIs it no wonder that thou art a moon for ever full And that thy\n     lovers 'tis, not thou, that wane and waste away?\nArt thou a god, that thou, indeed, by favouring whom thou wilt\n     And slighting others, canst at once bring back to life and\n     slay?\nGCod moulded beauty from thy form and eke perfumed the breeze With\n     the sheer sweetness of the scent that cleaves to thee alway.\nNone of the people of this world, an angel sure thou art, Whom\n     thy Creator hath sent down, to hearten our dismay.\n\nWhen Ali and Aboulhusn and the bystanders heard Shemsennehar's\nsong, they were transported and laughed and sported; but while\nthey were thus engaged, up came a damsel, trembling for fear, and\nsaid, 'O my lady, Afif and Mesrour and Merjan and others of the\nCommander of the Faithful's eunuchs, whom I know not, are at the\ndoor.' When they heard this they were like to die of fright, but\nShemsennehar laughed and said, 'Have no fear.' Then said she to\nthe damsel, 'Hold them in parley, whilst we remove hence.' And\nshe caused shut the doors of the alcove upon Ali and Aboulhusn\nand drew the curtains over them; after which she shut the door of\nthe saloon and went out by the privy gate into the garden, where\nshe seated herself on a couch she had there and bade one of the\ndamsels rub her feet. Then she dismissed the rest of her women\nand bade the portress admit those who were at the door; whereupon\nMesrour entered, he and his company, twenty men with drawn\nswords, and saluted her. Quoth she, 'Wherefore come-ye?' And they\nanswered, 'The Commander of the Faithful salutes thee. He wearies\nfor thy sight and would have thee to know that this with him is a\nday of great joy and gladness and he is minded to seal his\ngladness with thy present company: wilt thou then go to him or\nshall he come to thee?' At this she rose, and kissing the earth,\nsaid, 'I hear and obey the commandment of the Commander of the\nFaithful.' Then she summoned the chief (female) officers of her\nhousehold and other damsels and made a show of complying with the\nKhalif's orders and commanding them to make preparations for his\nreception, albeit all was in readiness; and she said to the\neunuchs, 'Go to the Commander of the Faithful and tell him that I\nawait him after a little space, that I may make ready for him a\nplace with carpets and so forth.' So they returned in haste to\nthe Khalif, whilst Shemsennehar, doffing her (outer) clothing,\nrepaired to her beloved Ali ben Bekkar and strained him to her\nbosom and bade him farewell, whereat he wept sore and said, 'O my\nlady, this leave-taking will lead to the ruin of my soul and the\nloss of my life; but I pray God to grant me patience to bear this\nmy love, wherewith He hath smitten me!' 'By Allah, answered she,\n'none will suffer perdition but I; for thou wilt go out to the\nmarket and company with those that will divert thee, and thine\nhonour will be in safety and thy passion concealed; whilst I\nshall fall into trouble and weariness nor find any to console me,\nmore by token that I have given the Khalif a rendezvous, wherein\nhaply great peril shall betide me, by reason of my love and\nlonging passion for thee and my grief at being parted from thee.\nFor with what voice shall I sing and with what heart shall I\npresent me before the Khalif and with what speech shall I\nentertain the Commander of the Faithful and with what eyes shall\nI look upon a place where thou art not and take part in a banquet\nat which thou art not present and with what taste shall I drink\nwine of which thou partakest not?' 'Be not troubled,' said\nAboulhusn 'but take patience and be not remiss in entertaining\nthe Commander of the Faithful this night, neither show him any\nneglect, but be of good courage.' At this juncture, up came a\ndamsel, who said to Shemsennehar, 'O my lady, the Khalif's pages\nare come.' So she rose to her feet and said to the maid, 'Take\nAboulhusn and his friend and carry them to the upper gallery\ngiving upon the garden and there leave them, till it be dark;\nwhen do thou make shift to carry them forth.' Accordingly, the\ngirl carried them up to the gallery and locking the door upon\nthem, went away. As they sat looking on the garden, the Khalif\nappeared, preceded by near a hundred eunuchs with drawn swords\nand compassed about with a score of damsels, as they were moons,\nholding each a lighted flambeau. They were clad in the richest of\nraiment and on each one's head was a crown set with diamonds\nand rubies. The Khalif walked in their midst with a majestic\ngait, whilst Mesrour and Afif and Wesif went before him and\nShemsennehar and all her damsels rose to receive him and meeting\nhim at the garden door, kissed the earth before him; nor did they\ncease to go before him, till they brought him to the couch,\nwhereon he sat down, whilst all the waiting-women and eunuchs\nstood before him and there came fair maids and slave-girls with\nlighted flambeaux and perfumes and essences and instruments of\nmusic. Then he bade the singers sit down, each in her room, and\nShemsennehar came up and seating herself on a stool by the\nKhalif's side, began to converse with him, whilst Ali and the\njeweller looked on and listened, unseen of the prince. The Khalif\nfell to jesting and toying with Shemsennehar and bade throw open\nthe (garden) pavilion. So they opened the doors and windows and\nlighted the flambeaux till the place shone in the season of\ndarkness even as the day. The eunuchs removed thither the\nwine-service and (quoth Aboulhusn), 'I saw drinking-vessels and\nrarities, whose like mine eyes never beheld, vases of gold and\nsilver and all manner precious stones and jewels, such as beggar\ndescription, till indeed meseemed I was dreaming, for excess of\namazement at what I saw!' But as for Ali ben Bekkar, from the\nmoment Shemsennehar left him, he lay prostrate on the ground for\nexcess of passion and desire and when he revived, he fell to\ngazing upon these things that had not their like, and saying to\nAboulhusn, 'O my brother, I fear lest the Khalif see us or come\nto know of us; but the most of my fear is for thee. For myself, I\nknow that I am surely lost past recourse, and the cause of my\ndestruction is nought but excess of passion and love-longing and\ndesire and separation from my beloved, after union with her; but\nI beseech God to deliver us from this predicament.' Then they\ncontinued to look on, till the banquet was spread before the\nKhalif, when he turned to one of the damsels and said to her, 'O\nGheram, let us hear some of thine enchanting songs.' So she tool:\nthe lute and tuning it, sang as follows:\n\nThe longing of a Bedouin maid, whose folk are far away, Who\n     yearns after the willow of the Hejaz and the bay,--\nWhose tears, when she on travellers lights, might for their water\n     serve And eke her passion, with its heat, their bivouac-fire\n     purvey,--\nIs not more fierce nor ardent than my longing for my love, Who\n     deem: that I commit a crime in loving him alway.\n\nWhen Shemsennehar heard this, she slipped off the stool on which\nshe sat and fell to the earth insensible; where upon the damsels\ncame and lifted her up. When Ali ben Bekkar saw this from the\ngallery, he also fell down senseless, and Aboulhusn said, 'Verily\nFate hath apportioned passion equally between you!' As he spoke,\nin came the damsel who had brought them thither and said to him,\n'O Aboulhusn, arise and come down, thou and thy friend, for of a\ntruth the world is grown strait upon us and I fear lest our case\nbe discovered or the Khalif become aware of you: so, except you\ndescend at once, we are dead folk. 'How shall this youth\ndescend,' replied he, 'seeing that he hath not strength to rise?'\nWith this she fell to sprinkling rose-water on Ali ben Bekkar,\ntill he came to himself, when Aboulhusn lifted him up and the\ndamsel stayed him. So they went down from the gallery and walked\non awhile, till they came to a little iron door, which the damsel\nopened, and they found themselves on the Tigris' bank. Here they\nsat down on a stone bench, whilst the girl clapped her hands and\nthere came up a man with a little boat, to whom said she, 'Carry\nthese two young men to the other bank.' So they all three entered\nthe boat and the man put off with them; and as they launched out\ninto the stream, Ali ben Bekkar looked back towards the Khalif's\npalace and the pavilion and the garden and bade them farewell\nwith these verses:\n\nI stretch forth a feeble hand to bid farewell to thee, With the\n     other upon my burning breast, beneath the heart of me.\nBut be not this the last of the love betwixt us twain And let not\n     this the last of my soul's refreshment be.\n\nThe damsel said to the boatman, 'Make haste with them.' So he\nplied his oars swiftly till they reached the opposite bank, where\nthey landed, and she took lease of them, saying, 'It were my wish\nnot to leave you, but I can go no farther than this.' Then she\nturned back, whilst Ali ben Bekkar lay on the ground before\nAboulhusn and could not rise, till the latter said to him, 'This\nplace is not sure and I am in fear of our lives, by reason of the\nthieves and highwaymen and men of lawlessness.' With this Ali\narose and essayed to walk a little, but could not. Now Aboulhusn\nhad friends in that quarter, so he made for the house of one of\nthem, in whom he trusted and who was of his intimates, and\nknocked at the door. The man came out quickly and seeing them,\nbade them welcome and brought them into his house, where he made\nthem sit down and talked with them and asked them whence they\ncame. Quoth Aboulhusn 'We came out but now, being moved thereto\nby a man with whom I had dealings and who hath in his hands\nmonies of mine. It was told me that he was minded to flee into\nforeign countries with my money; so I came out to-night in quest\nof him, taking with me this my friend Ali ben Bekkar for company\nbut he hid from us and we could get no speech of him So we turned\nback, empty-handed, and knew not whither to go, for it were\nirksome to us to return home at this hour of the night; wherefore\nwe came to thee, knowing thy wonted courtesy and kindness.' 'Ye\nare right welcome,' answered the host, and studied to do them\nhonour. They abode with him the rest of the night, and as soon as\nit was day, they left him and made their way back to the city.\nWhen they came to Aboulhusn's house, the latter conjured his\nfriend to enter; so they went in and lying down on the bed, slept\nawhile. When they awoke, Aboulhusn bade his servants spread the\nhouse with rich carpets saying in himself, 'Needs must I divert\nthis youth and distract him from thoughts of his affliction, for\nI know his case better than another.' Then he called for water\nfor Ali ben Bekkar, and the latter rose and making his ablutions,\nprayed the obligatory prayers that he had omitted for the past\nday and night; after which he sat down and began to solace\nhimself with talk with his friend. When Aboulhusn saw this, he\nturned to him and said, 'O my lord, it were better for thy case\nthat thou abide with me this night, so thy heart may be lightened\nand the anguish of love-longing that is upon thee be dispelled\nand thou make merry with us and haply the fire of thy heart be\nallayed.' 'O my brother,' answered Ali, 'do what seemeth good to\nthee; for I may not anywise escape from what hath befallen me.'\nAccordingly, Aboulhusn arose and bade his servants summon some of\nthe choicest of his friends and sent for singers and musicians.\nMeanwhile he made ready meat and drink for them, and they came\nand sat eating and drinking and making merry till nightfall Then\nthey lit the candles, and the cups of friendship and good\nfellowship went round amongst them, and the time passed\npleasantly with them. Presently, a singing-woman took the lute\nand sang the following verses:\n\nFate launched at me a dart, the arrow of an eye; It pierced me\n     and cut off from those I love am I.\nFortune hath mauled me sore and patience fails me now; But long\n     have I forebode misfortune drawing nigh.\n\nWhen Ali ben Bekkar heard this, he fell to the earth in a swoon\nand abode thus till daybreak, and Aboulhusn despaired of him.\nBut, with the dawning, he came to himself and sought to go home;\nnor could Aboulhusn deny him, for fear of the issue of his\naffair. So he made his servants bring a mule and mounting Ali\nthereon, carried him to his lodging, he and one of his men. When\nhe was safe at home, the merchant thanked God for his deliverance\nfrom that peril and sat awhile with him, comforting him; but Ali\ncould not contain himself, for the violence of his passion and\nlove-longing. Presently Aboulhusn rose to take leave of him and\nAli said, 'O my brother, leave me not without news.' 'I hear and\nobey, answered Aboulhusn, and repairing to his shop, opened it\nand sat there all day, expecting news of Shemsennehar; but none\ncame. He passed the night in his own house and when it was day,\nhe went to Ali ben Bekkar's lodging and found him laid on his\nbed, with his friends about him and physicians feeling his pulse\nand prescribing this or that. When he saw Aboulhusn, he smiled,\nand the latter saluting him, enquired how he did and sat with him\ntill the folk withdrew, when he said to him, 'What plight is\nthis?' Quoth Ali, 'It was noised abroad that I was ill and I have\nno strength to rise and walk, so as to give the lie to the report\nof my sickness, but continue lying here as thou seest. So my\nfriends heard of me and came to visit me. But, O my brother, hast\nthou seen the damsel or heard any news of her?' 'I have not seen\nher,' answered Aboulhusn, 'since we parted from her on the\nTigris' bank; but, O my brother, beware of scandal and leave this\nweeping.' 'O my brother,' rejoined Ali, 'indeed, I have no\ncontrol over myself ;' and he sighed and recited the following\nverses:\n\nShe giveth unto her hand that whereof mine doth fail, A dye on\n     the wrist, wherewith she doth my patience assail\nShe standeth in fear for her hand of the arrows she shoots from\n     her eyes; So, for protection, she's fain to clothe it in\n     armour of mail.[FN#10]\nThe doctor in ignorance felt my pulse, and I said to him, \"Leave\n     thou my hand alone; my heart it is that doth ail.\"\nQuoth she to the dream of the night, that visited me and fled,\n     \"By Allah, describe him to me and bate me no jot of the\n     tale!\"\nIt answered, \"I put him away, though he perish of thirst, and\n     said, 'Stand off from the watering-place!' So he could not\n     to drink avail.\"\nShe poured forth the pearls of her tears from her eyes' narcissus\n     and gave The rose of her cheeks to drink and bit upon\n     jujubes[FN#11] with hail.[FN#12]\n\nThen he said, 'O Aboulhusn, I am smitten with an affliction, from\nwhich I deemed myself in surety, and there is no greater ease for\nme than death.' 'Be patient,' answered his friend: 'peradventure\nGod will heal thee.' Then he went out from him and repairing\nto his shop, opened it, nor had he sat long, when up came\nShemsennehar's hand-maid, who saluted him. He returned her salute\nand looking at her, saw that her heart was palpitating and that\nshe was troubled and bore the traces of affliction: so he said to\nher, 'Thou art welcome. How is it with Shemsennehar?' 'I will\ntell thee,' answered she; 'but first tell me how doth Ali ben\nBekkar.' So he told her all that had passed, whereat she was\ngrieved and sighed and lamented and marvelled at his case. Then\nsaid she, 'My lady's case is still stranger than this; for when\nyou went away, I turned back, troubled at heart for you and\nhardly crediting your escape, and found her lying prostrate in\nthe pavilion, speaking not nor answering any, whilst the\nCommander of the Faithful sat by her head, unknowing what aided\nher and finding none who could give him news of her. She ceased\nnot from her swoon till midnight, when she revived and the Khalif\nsaid to her, \"What ails thee, O Shemsennehar, and what has\nbehllen thee this night?\" \"May God make me thy ransom, O\nCommander of the Faithful!\" answered she. \"Verily, bile rose in\nme and lighted a fire in my body, so that I lost my senses for\nexcess of pain, and I know no more.\" \"What hast thou eaten\nto-day?\" asked the Khalif. Quoth she, \"I broke my fast on\nsomething I had never before eaten.\" Then she feigned to be\nrecovered and calling for wine, drank it and begged the Khalif to\nresume his diversion. So he sat down again on his couch in the\npavilion and made her sit as before. When she saw me, she asked\nme how you fared; so I told her what I had done with you and\nrepeated to her the verses that Ali ben BeLkar had recited at\nparting, whereat she wept secretly, but presently stinted. After\nawhile, the Khalif ordered a damsel to sing, and she chanted the\nfollowing verses:\n\nLife, as I live, has not been sweet since I did part from thee;\n     Would God I knew but how it fared with thee too after me!\nIf thou be weeping tears of brine for sev'rance of our loves, Ah,\n     then, indeed, 'twere meet my tears of very blood should be.\n\nWhen my lady heard this, she fell back on the sofa in a swoon,\nand I seized her hand and sprinkled rose-water on her face, till\nshe revived, when I said to her, \"O my lady, do not bring ruin on\nthyself and on all thy house-hold, but be patient, by the life of\nthy beloved!\" \"Can aught befall me worse than death?\" answered\nshe. \"That, indeed, I long for, for, by Allah, my ease is\ntherein.\" Whilst we were talking, another damsel sang the\nfollowing words of the poet:\n\n\"Patience shall peradventure lead to solacement,\" quoth they; and\n     I, \"Where's patience to be had, now he is gone away?\"\nHe made a binding covenant with me to cut the cords Of patience,\n     when we two embraced upon the parting day.\n\nWhen Shemsennehar heard this, she swooned away once more, which\nwhen the Khalif saw, he came to her in haste and commanded the\nwine-service to be removed and each damsel to return to her\nchamber. He abode with her the rest of the night, and when it was\nday, he sent for physicians and men of art and bade them medicine\nher, knowing not that her sickness arose from passion and\nlove-longing. He tarried with her till he deemed her in a way of\nrecovery, when he returned to his palace, sore concerned for her\nillness, and she bade me go to thee and bring her news of Ali ben\nBekkar. So I came, leaving with her a number of her bodywomen;\nand this is what has delayed me from thee.' When Aboulhusn heard\nher story, he marvelled and said, 'By Allah, I have acquainted\nthee with his whole case; so now return to thy mistress; salute\nher for me and exhort her to patience and secrecy and tell her\nthat I know it to be a hard matter and one that calls for prudent\nordering.' She thanked him and taking leave of him, returned to\nher mistress, whilst he abode in his place till the end of the\nday, when he shut the shop and betaking himself to Ali ben\nBekkar's house, knocked at the door. One of the servants came out\nand admitted him; and when Ali saw him, he smiled and re-joiced\nin his coming, saying, 'O Aboulhusn, thou hast made a weary man\nof me by thine absence from me this day; for indeed my soul is\npledged to thee for the rest of my days.' 'Leave this talk,'\nanswered the other. 'Were thy healing at the price of my hand, I\nwould cut it off, ere thou couldst ask me; and could I ransom\nthee with my life, I had already laid it down for thee. This very\nday, Shemsennehar's handmaid has been with me and told me that\nwhat hindered her from coming before this was the Khalif's\nsojourn with her mistress;' and he went on to repeat to him all\nthat the girl had told him of Shemsennehar; at which Ali lamented\nsore and wept and said to him, 'O my brother, I conjure thee by\nGod to help me in this mine affliction and teach me how I shall\ndo! Moreover, I beg thee of thy grace to abide with me this\nnight, that I may have the solace of thy company.' Aboulhusn\nagreed to this; so they talked together till the night darkened,\nwhen Ali groaned aloud and lamented and wept copious tears,\nreciting the following verses:\n\nMy eye holds thine image ever; thy name in my mouth is aye And\n     still in my heart is thy sojourn; so how canst thou absent\n     be?\nHow sore is my lamentation for life that passes away Nor is\n     there, alas! in union a part for thee and me!\n\nAnd also these:\n\nShe cleft with the sword of her glance the helm of my courage in\n     two And the mail of my patience she pierced with the spear\n     of her shape through and through.\nShe unveiled to us, under the musk of the mole that is set on her\n     cheek, carnphor-whlte dawning a-break through a night of the\n     ambergris' hue.[FN#13]\nHer spirit was stirred to chagrin and she bit on cornelian[FN#14]\n     with pearls,[FN#15] Whose unions unvalued abide in a lakelet\n     of sugary dew.\nShe sighed for impatience and smote with her palm on the snows of\n     her breast. Her hand left a scar; so I saw what never before\n     met my view;\nPens fashioned of coral (her nails), that, dinting the book of\n     her breast Five lines, scored in ambergris ink, on a table\n     of crystal drew,\nO ye that go girded with steel, O swordsmen, I rede you beware Of\n     the stroke of her death-dealing eyes, that never looked yet\n     but they slew!\nAnd guard yourselves, ye of the spears, and fence off her thrust\n     from your hearts, If she tilt with the quivering lance of\n     her shape straight and slender at you.\n\nThen he gave a great cry and fell down in a swoon. Aboulhusn\nthought that his soul had departed his body and he ceased not\nfrom his swoon till daybreak, when he came to himself and talked\nwith his friend, who sat with him till the forenoon. Then he left\nhim and repaired to his shop. Hardly had he opened it, when the\ndamsel came and stood before him. As soon as he saw her, she made\na sign of salutation to him, which he returned; and she greeted\nhim for her mistress, saying, 'How doth Ali ben BeLkar?' 'O good\ndamsel,' replied he, 'ask me not how he doth nor what he suffers\nfor excess of passion; for he sleeps not by night neither rests\nby day; wakefulness wasteth him and affliction hath gotten the\nmastery of him and his case is distressful to his friend.' Quoth\nshe, 'My lady salutes thee and him, and indeed she is in worse\ncase than he. She hath written him a letter and here it is. When\nshe gave it me, she said to me, \"Do not return save with the\nanswer.\" So wilt thou go with me to him and get his reply?' 'I\nhear and obey,' answered Aboulhusn, and shutting his shop,\ncarried her, by a different way to that by which he came, to Ali\nben Bekkar's house, where he left her standing at the door and\nentered. When Ali saw him, he rejoiced, and Aboulhusn said to\nhim, 'The reason of my coming is that such an one hath sent his\nhandmaid to thee with a letter, containing his greeting to thee\nand excusing himself for that he hath tarried by reason of a\ncertain matter that hath betided him. The girl stands even now at\nthe door: shall she have leave to enter?' And he signed to him\nthat it was Shemsennehar's slave-girl. Ali understood his sign\nand answered, 'Bring her in.' So she entered and when he saw her,\nhe shook for joy and signed to her, as who should say, 'How doth\nthy lord, may God grant him health and recovery!' 'He is well,'\nanswered she and pulling out the letter, gave it to him. He took\nit and kissing it, opened and read it; after which he handed it\nto Aboulhusn, who found written therein what follows:\n\nThe messenger of me will give thee news aright; So let his true\n     report suffice thee for my sight.\nA lover hast thou left, for love of thee distraught; Her eyes\n     cease never-more from watching, day or night.\nI brace myself to bear affliction, for to foil The buffets of\n     ill-fate is given to no wight.\nBut be thou of good cheer; for never shall my heart Forget thee\n     nor thy thought be absent from my spright.\nLook on thy wasted frame and what is fallen thereon And thence\n     infer of me and argue of my plight.\n\nTo proceed: I have written thee a letter without fingers and\nspeak to thee without tongue; to tell thee my whole state, I have\nan eye from which sleeplessness is never absent and a heart\nwhence sorrowful thought stirs not. It is with me as I had never\nknown health nor let sadness, neither beheld a fair face nor\nspent an hour of pleasant life; but it is as I were made up of\nlove-longing and of the pain of passion and chagrin. Sickness is\nunceasing upon me and my yearning redoubles ever; desire\nincreases still and longing rages in my heart. I pray God to\nhasten our union and dispel the trouble of my mind: and I would\nfain have thee write me some words, that I may solace myself\nwithal. Moreover, I would have thee put on a becoming patience,\ntill God give relief; and peace be on thee.' When Ali ben Bekkar\nhad read this letter, he said, 'With what hand shall I write and\nwith what tongue shall I make moan and lament? Indeed she addeth\nsickness to my sickness and draweth death upon my death!' Then he\nsat up and taking inkhorn and paper, wrote the following reply:\n'In the name of God, the Compassionate, the Merciful. O my lady,\nthy letter hath reached me and hath given ease to a mind worn out\nwith passion and desire and brought healing to a wounded heart,\ncankered with languishment and sickness; for indeed I am become\neven as saith the poet:\n\n\nBosom contracted and grievous thought dilated, Eyes ever wakeful\n     and body wearied aye;\nPatience cut off and separation ever present, Reason disordered\n     and heart all stolen away.\n\nKnow that complaining quenches not the fire of calamity; but it\neases him whom love-longing consumes and separation destroys; and\nso I comfort myself with the mention of the word \"union;\" for how\nwell saith the poet:\n\nIf love had not pain and pleasure, satisfaction and despite,\n     Where of messengers and letters were for lovers the\n     delight?'\n\nWhen he had made an end of this letter, he gave it to Aboulhusn,\nsaying, 'Read it and give it to the damsel.' So he took it and\nread it and its words stirred his soul and its meaning wounded\nhis vitals. Then he gave it to the girl, and Ali said to her,\n'Salute thy lady for me and tell her of my passion and longing\nand how love is blent with my flesh and my bones; and say to her\nthat I need one who shall deliver me from the sea of destruction\nand save me from this dilemma; for of a truth fortune oppresseth\nme with its vicissitudes; and is there any helper to free me from\nits defilements?' So saying, he wept and the damsel wept for his\nweeping. Then she took leave of him and Aboulhusn went out with\nher and bade her farewell. So she went her way and he returned to\nhis shop, which he opened, and sat down there, according to his\nwont; but as he sat, he found his bosom straitened and his heart\noppressed and was troubled about his case. He ceased not from\nmelancholy thought the rest of that day and night, and on the\nmorrow he betook himself to Ali ben Bekkar, with whom he sat till\nthe folk withdrew, when he asked him how he did. Ali began to\ncomplain of passion and descant upon the longing and distraction\nthat possessed him, ending by repeating the following words of\nthe poet:\n\nFolk have made moan of passion before me of past years, And live\n     and dead for absence have suffered pains and fears;\nBut what within my bosom I harbour, with mine eyes I've never\n     seen the like of nor heard it with mine ears.\n\nAnd also these:\n\nI've suffered for thy love what Ca\u00efs, that madman[FN#16] hight,\n     Did never undergo for love of Leila bright.\nYet chase I not the beasts o' the desert, as did he; For madness\n     hath its kinds for this and th' other wight.\n\nQuoth Aboulhusn, 'Never did I see or hear of one like unto thee\nin thy love! If thou sufferest all this transport and sickness\nand trouble, being enamoured of one who returns thy passion, how\nwould it be with thee, if she whom thou lovest were contrary and\nperfidious? Meseems, thy case will be discovered, if thou abide\nthus.' His words pleased Ali ben Bekkar and he trusted in him and\nthanked him.\n\nNow Aboulhusn had a friend, to whom he had discovered his affair\nand that of Ali ben Bekkar and who knew that they were close\nfriends; but none other than he was acquainted with what was\nbetwixt them. He was wont to come to him and enquire how Ali did\nand after a little, he began to ask about the damsel; but\nAboulhusn put him off, saying, 'She invited him to her and there\nwas between him and her what passeth words, and this is the end\nof their affair; but I have devised me a plan which I would fain\nsubmit to thy judgment.' 'And what is that?' asked his friend. 'O\nmy brother,' answered Aboulhusn, 'I am a man well known, having\nmuch dealing among the notables, both men and women, and I fear\nlest the affair of these twain get wind and this lead to my death\nand the seizure of my goods and the ruin of my repute and that of\nmy family. Wherefore I purpose to get together my property and\nmake ready forthright and repair to the city of Bassora and abide\nthere, till I see what comes of their affair, that none may know\nof me, for passion hath mastered them and letters pass between\nthem. Their go-between and confidant at this present is a\nslave-girl, who hath till now kept their counsel, but I fear lest\nhaply she be vexed with them or anxiety get the better of her and\nshe discover their case to some one and the matter be noised\nabroad and prove the cause of my ruin; for I have no excuse\nbefore God or man.' 'Thou acquaintest me with a perilous matter,'\nrejoined his friend, 'and one from the like of which the wise and\nunderstanding will shrink in affright. May God preserve thee and\navert from thee the evil thou dreadest! Assuredly, thy resolve is\na wise one.' So Aboulhusn returned home and betook himself to\nsetting his affairs in order and preparing for his journey; nor\nhad three days elapsed ere he made an end of his business and\ndeparted for Bassora. Three days after, his friend came to visit\nhim, but finding him not, asked the neighbours of him; and they\nanswered, 'He set out three days ago for Bassora, for he had\ndealings with merchants there and is gone thither to collect his\ndebts; but he will soon return.' The man was confounded at the\nnews and knew not whither to go; and he said in himself, 'Would I\nhad not parted with Aboulhusn!' Then he bethought him how he\nshould gain access to Ali ben Bekkar and repairing to the\nlatter's lodging, said to one of his servants, 'Ask leave for me\nof thy master that I may go in and salute him.' So the servant\nwent in and told his master and presently returning, invited the\nman to enter. So he went in and found Ali ben Bekkar lying back\non the pillow and saluted him. Ali returned his greeting and bade\nhim welcome; whereupon the other began to excuse himself for\nhaving held aloof from him all this while and added, 'O my lord,\nthere was a close friendship between Aboulhusn and myself, so\nthat I used to trust him with my secrets and could not brook to\nbe severed from him an hour. It chanced but now that I was absent\nthree days' space on certain business with a company of my\nfriends, and when I came back, I found his shop shut; so I asked\nthe neighbours of him and they replied, \"He is gone to Bassora.\"\nNow I know he had no surer friend than thou; so I conjure thee,\nby Allah, to tell me what thou knowest of him.' When Ali heard\nthis, his colour changed and he was troubled and answered, 'I\nnever heard of his departure till this day, and if it be as thou\nsayest, weariness is come upon me.' And he repeated the following\nverses:\n\nWhilom I wept for what was past of joy and pleasant cheer, Whilst\n     yet the objects of my love were unremoved and near;\nBut now my sad and sorry fate hath sundered me and them And I\n     to-day must weep for those that were to me most dear.\n\nThen he bent his head awhile in thought and presently raising it,\nsaid to one of his servants, 'Go to Aboulhusn'' house and enquire\nwhether he be at home or gone on a journey. If they say, \"He is\nabroad;\" ask whither.' The servant went out and presently\nreturning, said to his master, 'When I asked after Aboulhusn, his\npeople told me that he was gone on a journey to Bassora; but I\nsaw a damsel standing at the door, who knew me, though I knew her\nnot, and said to me, \"Art thou not servant to Ali ben Bekkar?\"\n\"Yes,\" answered I. And she said, \"I have a message for him from\none who is the dearest of all folk to him.\" So she came with me\nand is now at the door.' Quoth Ali, 'Bring her in.' So the\nservant went out and brought her in, and the man who was with Ali\nben Bekkar looked at her and found her comely. She came up to Ali\nand saluting him, talked with him privily; and he from time to\ntime exclaimed with an oath and swore that he had not done as she\navouched. Then she took leave of him and went away. When she was\ngone, Aboulhusn's friend, who was a jeweller, took occasion to\nspeak and said to Ali ben Bekkar, 'Doubtless, the women of the\npalace have some claim upon thee or thou hast dealings with the\nKhalif's household?' 'Who told thee of this?' asked Ali. 'I\nknow it by yonder damsel,' replied the jeweller, 'who is\nShemsennehar's slave-girl; for she came to me awhile since with a\nwritten order for a necklace of jewels; and I sent her a costly\none.' When Ali heard this, he was greatly troubled, so that the\njeweller feared for his life, but after awhile he recovered\nhimself and said, 'O my brother, I conjure thee by Allah to tell\nme truly how thou knowest her.' 'Do not press me as to this,'\nreplied the other; and Ali said, 'Indeed, I will not desist from\nthee till thou tell me the truth.' 'Then,' said the jeweller, 'I\nwill tell thee all, that thou mayst not distrust me nor be\nalarmed at what I said, nor will I conceal aught from thee, but\nwill discover to thee the truth of the matter, on condition that\nthou possess me with the true state of thy case and the cause of\nthy sickness.' Then he told him all that had passed between\nAboulhusn and himself, adding that he had acted thus only out of\nfriendship for him and of his desire to serve him and assuring\nhim that he would keep his secret and venture life and goods in\nhis service. So Ali in turn told him his story and added, 'By\nAllah, O my brother, nought moved me to keep my case secret from\nthee and others but my fear lest the folk should lift the veils\nof protection from certain persons.' 'And I,' rejoined the\njeweller, 'desired not to foregather with thee but of the great\naffection I bear thee and my zeal for thee in every case and my\ncompassion for the anguish thy heart endureth for severance.\nHaply, I may be a comforter to thee in the room of my friend\nAboulhusn, during his absence. So take heart and be of good\ncheer.' Ali thanked him and repeated the following verses:\n\nIf, 'I am patient,' I say, since forth from me he went, My tears\n     give me the lie and the stress of my lament.\nAnd how shall I hide the tears, that flow in streams adown The\n     table of my cheek for his evanishment?\n\nThen he was silent awhile, and presently said to the jeweller,\n'Knowest thou what the girl whispered to me?' 'Not I, by Allah, O\nmy lord,' answered he. Quoth Ali, 'She would have it that I had\ncounselled Aboulhusn to go to Bassora and that I had used this\ndevice to put a stop to our correspondence and intercourse. I\nswore to her that this was not so: but she would not credit me\nand went away to her mistress, persisting in her injurious\nsuspicions; and indeed I know not what I shall do without\nAboulhusn, for she inclined to him and gave ear to his word.' 'O\nmy brother,' answered the jeweller, 'I guessed as much from her\nmanner; but, if it please God the Most High, I will help thee to\nthy desire.' 'Who can help me,' rejoined Ali, 'and how wilt thou\ndo with her, when she takes umbrage like a wilding of the\ndesert?' 'By Allah,' exclaimed the jeweller, 'needs must I\ndo my utmost endeavour to help thee and contrive to make her\nacquaintance, without exposure or mischief!' Then he asked leave\nto depart, and Ali said, 'O my brother, see thou keep my counsel'\nAnd he looked at him and wept. The jeweller bade him farewell and\nwent away, knowing not what he should do to further his wishes;\nbut as he went along pondering the matter, he spied a letter\nlying in the road, and taking it up, found that it bore the\nfollowing superscription, 'From the least worthy of lovers to the\nmost excellent of beloved ones.' He opened it and found these\nwords written therein:\n\n'The messenger brought me a promise of union and delight; But yet\n     that he had mistaken 'twas constant in my spright.\nWherefore I joyed not: but sorrow was added unto me, For that I\n     knew my envoy had read thee not aright.\n\nTo proceed: Know, O my lord, that I am ignorant of the cause of\nthe breaking off of the correspondence between thee and me: but\nif it arise from cruelty on thy part, I will meet it with\nfidelity, and if love have departed from thee, I will remain\nconstant to my love in absence for I am with thee even as says\nthe poet:\n\nBe haughty and I will be patient; capricious, I'll bear; turn\n     away, I'll draw near thee; be harsh, I'll be abject;\n     command, I'll give ear and obey.\n\nAs he was reading, up came the slave-girl, looking right and\nleft, and seeing the letter in the jeweller's hand, said to him,\n'O my lord, this letter is one I let fall.' He made her no\nanswer, but walked on, and she followed him, till he came to his\nhouse, when he entered and she after him, saying, 'O my lord,\ngive me back the letter, for it fell from me.' He turned to her\nand said, 'O good slave-girl, fear not, neither grieve, for\nverily God the Protector loves to protect [His creatures]; but\ntell me the truth of thy case, for I am one who keepeth counsel.\nI conjure thee by an oath to hide from me nothing of thy lady's\naffair; for haply God shall help me to further her wishes and\nmake easy what is hard by my hand' 'O my lord,' answered she,\n'indeed a secret is not lost whereof thou art the keeper; nor\nshall any affair come to nought for which thou strivest. Know\nthat my heart inclines to thee, and do thou give me the letter.'\nThen she told him the whole story, adding, 'God is witness to\nwhat I say.' 'Thou hast spoken truly,' said the jeweller, 'for I\nam acquainted with the root of the matter.' Then he told her how\nhe had come by Ali ben Bekkar's secret and related to her all\nthat had passed, whereat she rejoiced; and they agreed that she\nshould carry the letter to Ali and return and tell the jeweller\nall that passed. Accordingly he gave her the letter and she took\nit and sealed it up as it was before, saying, 'My mistress\nShemsennehar gave it to me sealed; and when he hath read it and\ngiven me the reply, I will bring it to thee.' Then she repaired\nto Ali ben Bekkar, whom she found waiting, and gave him the\nletter. He read it and writing an answer, gave it to the damsel.\nShe carried it to the jeweller, who broke the seal and read what\nwas written therein, as follows:\n\n'Neglected are our messages, for lo, our go-between, That wont to\n     keep our counsel erst, is wroth with us, I ween.\nSo choose us out a messenger, a true and trusty wight, Yea, one\n     of whom fidelity, not falsehood, is well seen.\n\nTo proceed: Verily, I have not entered upon perfidy nor left\nfidelity; I have not used cruelty, neither have I put off loyalty\nnor broken faith. I have not ceased from affection nor severed\nmyself from grief; neither have I found aught after separation\nbut misery and ruin. I know nothing of that thou avouchest nor do\nI love aught but that which thou lovest. By Him who knoweth the\nsecret of the hidden things, I have no desire but to be united\nwith her whom I love and my one business is the concealment of my\npassion, though sickness consume me. This is the exposition of my\ncase and peace be on thee.' When the jeweller read this letter,\nhe wept sore and the girl said to him, 'Leave not this place,\ntill I return to thee; for he suspects me of such and such\nthings, in which he is excusable; so it is my desire to bring\nthee in company with my mistress Shemsennehar, howsoever I may\ncontrive it. I left her prostrate, awaiting my return with the\nanswer.' Then she went away and the jeweller passed the night in\na state of agitation. On the morrow he prayed the morning prayer\nand sat awaiting the girl's coming. Presently she came in to him,\nrejoicing, and he said to her, 'What news, O damsel?' Quoth she,\n'I gave my mistress Ali ben Bekkar's reply, and when she read it,\nshe was troubled in her mind; but I said to her, \"O my lady, have\nno fear of the hindrance of your affair by reason of Aboulhusn's\nabsence, for I have found one to take his place, better than he\nand more of worth and apt to keep secrets.\" Then I told her what\nwas between Aboulhusn and thyself and how thou camest by his\nconfidence and that of Ali ben Bekkar and how I met with thee and\nshowed her how matters stood betwixt thee and me. Now she is\nminded to have speech of thee, that she may be assured by thy\nwords of the covenants between thee and him; so do thou make\nready to go with me to her forthwith. When the jeweller heard\nthe girl's words, he saw that what she proposed was a grave\nmatter and a great peril, not lightly to be undertaken or entered\nupon, and said to her, 'O my stster, verily, I am of the common\npeople and not like unto Aboulhusn; for he was of high rank and\nrepute and was wont to frequent the Khalif's household, because\nof their need of his wares. As for me, he used to talk with me,\nand I trembled before him the while. So, if thy mistress would\nhave speech of me, it must be in some place other than the\nKhalif's palace and far from the abode of the Commander of the\nFaithful; for my reason will not let me do what thou proposest.'\nAccordingly, he refused to go with her, and she went on to assure\nhim of impunity, saying, 'Fear not,' and pressed him, till he\nconsented to accompany her; but, when he would have risen, his\nlegs bent under him and his hands trembled and he exclaimed, 'God\nforbid that I should go with thee! Indeed, I cannot do this.'\n'Reassure thyself,' answered she; 'if it irk thee to go to the\nKhalif's palace and thou canst not muster up courage to accompany\nme, I will make her come to thee; so stir not from thy place till\nI return to thee with her.' Then she went away and returning\nafter a little, said to the jeweller, 'Look that there be with\nthee neither slave-girl nor man-slave nor any other.' Quoth he,\n'I have but an old negress-slave, who waits on me.' So she locked\nthe door between the jeweller and his negress and sent his\nman-servants out of the house, after which she went out and\npresently returned, followed by a lady, who filled the house with\nthe sweet scent of her perfumes. When the jeweller saw her, he\nsprang to his feet and set her a couch and a cushion, and she sat\ndown. He seated himself before her and she abode awhile without\nspeaking, till she was rested, when she unveiled her face and it\nseemed to the jeweller as if the sun had risen in his house. Then\nsaid she to her slave-girl, 'Is this the man of whom thou spakest\nto me?' 'Yes,' answered she; whereupon the lady turned to the\njeweller and said to him, 'How is it with thee?' 'Well,' replied\nhe. 'May God preserve thy life and that of the Commander of the\nFaithful!' Quoth she, 'Thou hast moved us to come to thee and\npossess thee with our secret.' Then she questioned him of\nhis household and family; and he discovered to her all his\ncircumstance and said to her, 'I have another house, which I have\nset apart for entertaining my friends and brethren, and there is\nnone there save the old negress, of whom I spoke to thy handmaid.'\nShe asked him how he came first to know of the matter and what\nhad made Aboulhusn absent himself, so he told her all and she\nbewailed the loss of Aboulhusn and said to the jeweller, 'Know\nthat the minds of men are at one in desires, and however they may\ndiffer in estate, men are still men and have need one of the\nother: an affair is not accomplished without speech nor is a wish\nfulfilled save by endeavour: ease comes not but after weariness\nnor is succour compassed save by the help of the generous. Now I\nhave trusted my secret to thee and it is in thy power to expose\nor shield us; I say no more, because of thy generosity of nature.\nThou knowest that this my hand-maid keeps my counsel and is\ntherefore in high favour with me and I have chosen her to\ntransact my affairs of importance. So let none be worthier in thy\nsight than she and acquaint her with thine affair. Be of good\ncheer, for thou art safe from what thou fearest on our account,\nand there is no shut place but she shall open it to thee. She\nshall bring thee messages from me to Ali ben Bekkar, and thou\nshalt be our go-between.' So saying, she rose, scarcely able to\nstand, and the jeweller forewent her to the door of the house,\nafter which he returned and sat down again in his place, having\nseen of her beauty what dazzled him and heard of her speech what\nconfounded his wit and witnessed of her grace and courtesy what\nbewitched him. He sat musing on her perfections till his trouble\nsubsided, when he called for food and ate enough to stay his\nstomach. Then he changed his clothes and repairing to Ali ben\nBekkar's house, knocked at the door. The servants hastened to\nadmit him and brought him to their master, whom he found laid\nupon his bed. When he saw the jeweller, he said to him, 'Thou\nhast tarried long from me and hast added concern to my concern.'\nThen he dismissed his servants and bade shut the doors, after\nwhich he said to the jeweller, 'By Allah, O my brother, I have\nnot closed my eyes since I saw thee last; for the slave-girl\ncame to me yesterday with a sealed letter from her mistress\nShemsennehar;' and went on to tell him all that had passed,\nadding, 'Indeed, I am perplexed concerning mine affair and my\npatience fails me: for Aboulhusn was of comfort to me, because he\nknew the girl.' When the jeweller heard this, he laughed and Ali\nsaid, 'Why dost thou laugh at my words, thou in whom I rejoiced\nand to whom I looked for succour against the shifts of fortune?'\nThen he sighed and wept and repeated the following verses:\n\nMany an one laughs at my weeping, whenas he looks on my pain. Had\n     he but suffered as I have, he, also, to weep would be fain.\nNo one hath ruth on the smitten, for that he is doomed to endure\n     But he who alike is afflicted and long in affliction hath\n     lain\nMy passion, my yearning, my sighing, my care and distraction end\n     woe Are all for a loved one, whose dwelling is in my heart's\n     innermost fane.\nHe made his abode in my bosom and never will leave it again; And\n     yet with my love to foregather I weary and travail in vain.\nI know of no friend I can choose me to stand in his stead unto\n     me, Nor ever, save him, a companion, to cherish and love\n     have I ta'en.[FN#17]\n\nWhen the jeweller heard this, he wept also and told him all that\nhad passed betwixt himself and the slave-girl and her mistress,\nsince he left him, whilst Ali gave ear to his speech, and at\nevery fresh word his colour shifted 'twixt white and red and his\nbody grew now stronger and now weaker, till he came to the end of\nhis tale, when Ali wept and said to him, 'O my brother, I am a\nlost man in any event. Would my end were near, that I might be at\nrest from ail this! But I beg thee, of thy favour, to be my\nhelper and comforter in all my affairs, till God accomplish\nHis will; and I will not gainsay thee in aught.' Quoth the\njeweller, 'Nothing will quench the fire of thy passion save union\nwith her whom thou lovest: and this must not be in this perilous\nplace, but in a house of mine other than in which the girl and\nher mistress came to me. This place she chose for herself, to the\nintent that ye may there foregather and complain one to the other\nof what you have suffered from the pangs of love.' 'O my lord,'\nanswered Ali ben Bekkar, 'do as thou wilt and may God requite\nthee for me! What thou deemest fit will be right: but be not long\nabout it, lest I die of this anguish.' So I abode with him (quoth\nthe jeweller) that night, entertaining him with converse, till\ndaybreak, when I prayed the morning prayers and going out from\nhim, returned to my house. Hardly had I done so, when the damsel\ncame up and saluted me. I returned her greeting and told her what\nhad passed between Ali ben Bekkar and myself; and she said, 'Know\nthat the Khalif has left us and there is none in our lodging, and\nit is safer for us and better.' 'True,' replied I; 'yet it is not\nlike my house yonder, which is both surer and fitter for us.' 'Be\nit as thou wilt,' rejoined she. 'I will go to my lady and tell\nher what thou sayest.' So she went away and presently returned\nand said to me, 'It is to be as thou sayest: so make us ready the\nplace and expect us.' Then she took out a purse of diners and\nsaid to me, 'My lady salutes thee and bids thee take this and\nprovide therewith what the case calls for.' But I swore that I\nwould have nought of it; so she took the purse and returning to\nher mistress, said to her, 'He would not take the money, but gave\nit back to me.' 'No matter,' answered Shemsennehar. As soon as\nshe was gone, I betook myself to my other house and transported\nthither all that was needful, by way of furniture and utensils\nand rich carpets and vessels of china and glass and gold and\nsilver, and made ready meat and drink for the occasion. When the\ndamsel came and saw what I had done, it pleased her and she bade\nme fetch Ali ben Bekkar; but I said, 'None shall fetch him but\nthou.' Accordingly she went to him and brought him back, dressed\nto perfection and looking his best. I met him and welcomed him\nand making him sit down on a couch befitting his condition, set\nbefore him sweet-scented flowers in vases of china and crystal of\nvarious colours. Then I set on a tray of vari-coloured meats, of\nsuch as rejoice the heart with their sight, and sat talking with\nhim and diverting him, whi'st the girl went away and was absent\ntill after sundown, when she returned with Shemsennehar, attended\nby two maids and no more. When Ali saw her, he rose and embraced\nher and they both fell down in a swoon. They lay awhile\ninsensible, then, coming to themselves, began to complain to each\nother of the pains of separation. They sat awhile, conversing\nwith eloquence and tenderness, after which they perfumed\nthemselves and fell to thanking me for what I had done. Said I,\n'Have ye a mind for food?' 'Yes,' answered they. So I set food\nbefore them, and they ate till they were satisfied and washed\ntheir hands, after which I carried them to another room and\nbrought them wine. So they drank and grew merry with wine and\ninclined to one another, and Shemsennehar said to me, 'O my lord,\ncomplete thy kindness by bringing us a lute or other instrument\nof music that the measure of our joy may be filled.' 'On my head\nand eyes,' answered I and rising, brought her a lute. She took it\nand tuned it, then laying it in her lap, made masterly music, at\nonce exciting to sorrowful thoughts and cheering the afflicted;\nafter which she sang the following verses:\n\nI wake and I watch till it seemeth as I were in love with unrest\n     And I waste and I languish, as sickness, meseemeth, were\n     born in my breast.\nThe tides of my tears, ever flowing, have burnt up my cheeks with\n     their heat: Would I knew if our loves, after sev'rance, with\n     union again will be blest!\n\n\nShe went on to sing song after song, choice words set to various\nairs, till our minds were bewitched and it seemed as if the very\nroom would dance with excess of pleasure for the marvel of her\nsweet singing and there was nor thought nor reason left in us.\nWhen we had sat awhile and the cup had gone round amongst us, the\ndamsel took the lute and sang the following verses to a lively\nmeasure:\n\nMy love a visit promised me and did fulfil his plight One night\n     that I shall reckon aye for many and many a night.\nO night of raptures that the fates vouchsafed unto us twain;\n     Unheeded of the railing tribe and in the spies' despite!\nMy loved one lay the night with me and I of my content Clipped\n     him with my left hand, while he embraced me with his right.\nI strained him to my breast and drank his lips' sweet wine, what\n     while I of the honey and of him who sells it had delight.\n\nWhilst we were thus drowned in the sea of gladness, in came a\nlittle maid, trembling, and said, 'O my lady, look how you may go\naway, for the folk are upon us and have surrounded the house, and\nwe know not the cause of this.' When I heard this, I arose in\naffright, and behold, in came a slave-girl, who said, 'Calamity\nhath overtaken you!' At the same moment, the door was burst open\nand there rushed in upon us half a score masked men, with\nponiards in their hands and swords by their sides, and as many\nmore behind them. When I saw this, the world, for all its\nwideness, was straitened on me and I looked to the door, but saw\nno way out; so I sprang (from the roof) into the house of one of\nmy neighbours and hid myself there. Thence I heard a great uproar\nin my house and concluded that the Khalif had gotten wind of us\nand sent the chief of the police to seize us and bring us before\nhim. So I abode confounded and remained in my place, without\ndaring to move, till midnight, when the master of the house\nbecame aware of me and being greatly affrighted, made at me with\na drawn sword in his hand, saying, 'Who is this in my house?'\nQuoth I, 'I am thy neighbour, the jeweller;' and he knew me and\nheld his hand. Then he fetched a light and coming up to me, said,\n'O my brother, indeed that which hath befallen thee this night is\ngrievous to me.' 'O my brother,' answered I, 'tell me who it was\nentered my house and broke in the door, for I fled to thee, not\nknowing what was the matter.' Quoth he, 'The robbers, who visited\nour neighbours yesterday and slew such an one and took his goods,\nsaw thee yesterday bringing hither furniture and what not; so\nthey broke in upon thee and stole thy goods and slew thy guests.'\nThen we arose, he and I, and repaired to my house, which I found\nempty and stripped of everything, whereat I was confounded and\nsaid to myself, 'I care not for the loss of the gear, though\nindeed I borrowed part thereof of my friends; yet is there no\nharm in that, for they know my excuse in the loss of my goods and\nthe pillage of my house; but as for Ali ben Bekkar and the\nKhalif's favourite, I fear lest their case get wind and this\ncause the loss of my life.' So I turned to my neighbour and said\nto him, 'Thou art my brother and my neighbour and wilt cover my\nnakedness; what dost thou counsel me to do?' 'I counsel thee to\nwait,' answered he; 'for they who entered thy house and stole thy\ngoods have murdered the better part of a company from the\nKhalif's palace, besides some of the police, and the Khalif's\nofficers are now in quest of them on every side. Haply they will\nchance on them and so thy wish will come about without effort of\nthine.' Then I returned to my other house, that in which I dwelt,\nsaying to myself, 'This that hath befallen me is what Aboulhusn\nfeared and from which he fled to Bassora.' Presently the pillage\nof my pleasure-house was noised abroad among the folk, and they\ncame to me from all sides, some rejoicing in my misfortune and\nothers excusing me and condoling with me, whilst I bewailed\nmyself to them and ate not neither drank for grief. As I sat,\nrepenting me of what I had done, one of my servants came in to me\nand said, 'There is a man at the door, who asks for thee; and I\nknow him not.' So I went out and found at the door a man whom I\nknew not. I saluted him, and he said to me, 'I have somewhat to\nsay to thee privily.' So I brought him in and said to him, 'What\nhast thou to say to me?' Quoth he, 'Come with me to thine other\nhouse.' 'Doss thou then know my other house,' asked I. 'I know\nall about thee,' replied he, 'and I know that also wherewith God\nwill dispel thy concern.' So I said to myself, 'I will go with\nhim whither he will;' and we went out and walked on till we came\nto my other house, which when he saw, he said to me, 'It is\nwithout door or doorkeeper, and we cannot sit in it; so come thou\nwith me to another house.' Accordingly, he went on from place to\nplace and I with him, till the night overtook us. Yet I put no\nquestion to him and we ceased not to walk on, till we reached the\nopen country. He kept saying, 'Follow me,' and quickened his\npace, whilst I hurried after him, heartening myself to go on.\nPresently; we came to the river-bank, where he took boat with me,\nand the boatman rowed us over to the other side. Here my guide\nlanded and I after him and he took my hand and led me to a street\nI had never before entered, nor do I know in what quarter it is.\nPresently he stopped at the door of a house, and opening, entered\nand made me enter with him; after which he bolted the door with a\nbolt of iron and carried me along the vestibule, till he brought\nme in presence of ten men, brothers, as they were one and the\nsame man. We saluted them and they returned our greeting and bade\nus be seated; so we sat down. Now I was like to die for very\nweariness; so they brought rose-water and sprinkled it on my\nface, after which they gave me to drink and set food before me,\nof which some of them ate with me. Quoth I to myself, 'Were there\naught of harm in the food, they would not eat with me.' So I ate,\nand when we had washed our hands, each of us returned to his\nplace. Then said they to me, 'Dost thou know us?' 'I never in my\nlife saw you nor this your abode,' answered I; 'nay, I know not\neven him who brought me hither.' Said they, 'Tell us thy case and\nlie not in aught.' 'Know then,' rejoined I, 'that my case is\nstrange and my affair marvellous: but do you know aught of me?'\n'Yes,' answered they; 'it was we took thy goods yesternight and\ncarried off thy friend and her who was singing to him.' 'May God\nlet down the veil of His protection over you!' said I. 'But\nwhere is my friend and she who was singing to him?' They pointed\nto two doors and replied, 'They are yonder, each in a room apart;\nbut, by Allah, O our brother, the secret of their case is known\nto none but thee, for from the time we brought them hither, we\nhave not seen them nor questioned them of their condition, seeing\nthem to be persons of rank and dignity. This it was that hindered\nus from putting them to death: so tell us the truth of their case\nand be assured of their safety and thine own.' When I heard this,\nI was like to die of fright and said to them, 'O my brethren, if\ngenerosity were lost, it would not be found save with you and had\nI a secret, which I feared to divulge, your breasts alone should\nhave the keeping of it.' And I went on to expatiate to them in\nthis sense, till I saw that frankness would profit me more than\nconcealment; so I told them the whole story. When they heard it,\nthey said, 'And is this young man Ali ben Bekkar and this damsel\nShemsennehar?' 'Yes,' answered I. This was grievous to them and\nthey rose and made their excuses to the two lovers. Then they said\nto me, 'Part of what we took from thy house is spent, but here is\nwhat is left of it.' So saying, they gave me back the most part\nof my goods and engaged to return them to my house and restore me\nthe rest. So my heart was set at ease, and some of them abode\nwith me, whilst the rest fetched Ali ben Bekkar and Shemsennehar,\nwho were well-nigh dead for excess of fear. Then they all sallied\nforth with us and I went up to the two lovers and saluting them,\nsaid to them, 'What became of the damsel and the two maids?' 'We\nknow nothing of them,' answered they. Then we walked on till we\ncame to the river-bank, where we all embarked in the boat that\nhad brought me over before, and the boatman rowed us to the other\nside; but hardly had we landed and sat down on the bank to rest,\nwhen a troop of horse swooped down on us like eagles and\nsurrounded us on all sides, whereupon the robbers with us sprang\nup in haste and the boatman, putting back for them, took them in\nand pushed off into mid-stream, leaving us on the bank, unable to\nmove or abide still. The horseman said to us, 'Whence come ye?'\nAnd we were perplexed for an answer; but I said, 'Those ye saw\nwith us are rogues: we know them not. As for us, we are singers,\nwhom they would have taken to sing to them, nor could we win free\nof them, save by subtlety and fair words, and they have but now\nleft us.' They looked at Ali and Shemsennehar and said to me,\n'Thou hast not spoken sooth; but if thy tale be true, tell us who\nyou are and whence you come and in what quarter you dwell.' I\nknew not what to answer, but Shemsennehar sprang up and\napproaching the captain of the troop, spoke with him privily,\nwhereupon he dismounted and setting her on his steed, began to\nlead it along by the bridle. Two of his men did the like with Ali\nben Bekkar and myself, and they fared on with us, till they\nreached a certain part of the river-bank, when the captain sang\nout in jargon and there came to us a number of men with two\nboats. The captain embarked with Shemsennehar in one boat and\nwent his way, whilst the rest of his men put off in the other,\nwith Ali ben Bekkar and myself, and rowed on with us, we the\nwhile enduring the agonies of death for excess of fear, till they\ncame to a place whence there was a way to our quarter. Here we\nlanded and walked on, escorted by some of the horsemen, till we\ncame to Ali ben Bekkar's house, where they took leave of us and\nwent their way. We entered the house and abode there, unable to\nstir and knowing not night from day, till nightfall of the next\nday, when I came to myself and saw Ali ben Bekkar stretched out\nwithout sense or motion, and the men and women of his household\nweeping over him. When they saw that I had recovered my senses,\nsome of them came to me and helping me sit up, said to me, 'Tell\nus what hath befallen our son and how he came in this plight.' 'O\nfolk,' answered I, 'hearken to me and importune me not; but be\npatient and he will come to himself and tell you his story for\nhimself.' And I was round with them and made them afraid of a\nscandal between us; but as we were thus, behold, Ali ben Bekkar\nmoved in his bed, whereat his friends rejoiced and the [most part\nof the] folk withdrew from him; but his people forbade me to go\naway. Then they sprinkled rose-water on his face, and he\npresently revived and breathed the air, whereupon they questioned\nhim of his case. He essayed to answer them, but could not speak\nforthright and signed to them to let me go home. So they let me\ngo, and I returned to my own house, supported by two men and\nhardly crediting my escape. When my people saw me thus, they fell\na-shrieking and buffeting their faces; but I signed to them to\nhold their peace, and they were silent. Then the two men went\ntheir way and I threw myself down on my bed, where I lay the rest\nof the night and awoke not till the forenoon, when I found my\npeople collected round me and they said, 'What hath befallen thee\nand what (evil) hath smitten thee with its mischief?' Quoth I,\n'Bring me to drink.' So they brought me wine, and I drank what I\nwould and said to them, 'Wine got the better of me and it was\nthis caused the state in which ye saw me' Then they went away,\nand I made my excuses to my friends and asked if any of the goods\nthat had been stolen from my other house had been returned.'\n'Yes,' answered they. 'Some of them have come back: and the\nmanner of their coming was that a man came and threw them down\nin the doorway and we saw him not.' So I comforted myself and\nabode two days, unable to rise, at the end of which time I\nbegan to regain strength and went to the bath, for I was worn\nout with fatigue and troubled at heart for Ali ben Bekkar and\nShemsennehar, because I had no news of them all this time and\ncould neither get to Ali's house nor rest in my own, out of fear\nfor myself. And I repented to God the Most High of what I had\ndone and praised Him for my safety. Then I bethought me to go to\nsuch and such a place and see the folk and divert myself; so I\nwent to the stuff-market and sat awhile with a friend of mine\nthere. When I rose to go, I saw a woman standing in my road; so I\nlooked at her, and behold it was Shemsennehar's slave-girl. When\nI saw her, the world grew dark in my eyes and I hurried on. She\nfollowed me, but I was afraid and fled from her, trembling\nwhenever I looked at her, whilst she pursued me, saying, 'Stop,\nthat I may tell thee somewhat.' But I heeded her not and went on,\ntill I reached a mosque in an unfrequented spot, and she said to\nme, 'Enter the mosque, that I may say a word to thee, and fear\nnothing.' And she conjured me: so I entered the mosque, and she\nafter me. I prayed a two-bow prayer, after which I turned to her,\nsighing, and said, 'What dost thou want?' She asked me how I did,\nand I told her all that had befallen myself and Ali ben Bekkar\nand asked her for news of herself. 'Know,' answered she, 'that\nwhen I and the two maids saw the robbers break open thy door, we\ndoubted not but they were the Khalif's officers and would seize\nus and our mistress and we perish forthright: so we fled over the\nroofs and casting ourselves down from a high place, took refuge\nwith some people, who harboured us and brought us to the palace,\nwhere we arrived in the sorriest of plights. We concealed our\ncase and abode on coals of fire till nightfall, when I opened the\nriver-gate and calling the boatman who had carried us the night\nbefore, said to him, \"I know not what is come of my mistress; so\ntake me in thy boat, that we may seek her on the river: it may be\nI shall chance on some news of her.\" So he took me into the boat\nand rowed about with me till midnight, when I spied a boat making\ntowards the water-gate, with one man rowing and another standing\nup and a woman lying prostrate between them. When they reached\nthe shore and the woman landed, I looked at her, and behold, it\nwas Shemsennehar. So I landed and joined her, dazed for joy,\nafter having lost hope of her. When I came up to her, she bade me\ngive the man who had brought her thither a thousand diners, and I\nand the two maids carried her in and laid her on her bed, and she\nat death's door. She abode thus all that day and the next day and\nI forbade the eunuchs and women to go in to her; but on the third\nday, she revived and I found her as she had come out of the\ngrave. So I sprinkled rose-water upon her face and changed her\nclothes and washed her hands and feet, nor did I cease to\npersuade her, till I brought her to eat a little and drink some\nwine, though she had no mind to it. As soon as she had breathed\nthe air and strength began to return to her, I fell to upbraiding\nher, saying, \"Consider, O my lady, and have pity on thyself; thou\nseest what has betided us Surely, enough of evil hath befallen\nthee and thou hast been nigh upon death.\" \"By Allah, O good\ndamsel,\" replied she, \"death were easier to me than what hath\nbefallen me; for I had renounced all hope of deliverance and gave\nmyself up for lost. When the robbers took us from the jeweller's\nhouse, they asked me who I was; I replied, 'I am a singing-girl,'\nand they believed me. Then they said to Ali ben Bekkar, 'And who\nart thou and what is thy condition?' And he answered, 'I am of\nthe common people.' So they carried us to their abode, and we\nhurried on with them for fear; but when they had us with them in\nthe house, they looked at me and seeing the clothes I wore and my\nnecklaces and jewellery, believed me not and said to me, 'No\nsinging-girl ever had such jewels as these; tell us the truth of\nthy case.' I returned them no answer, saying in myself, 'Now will\nthey kill me for my clothes and ornaments;' and I spoke not a\nword. Then they turned to Ali ben Bekkar and said to him, 'And\nthou, who and whence art thou? For thy favour is not as that of\nthe common folk.' But he was silent and we ceased not to keep our\ncounsel and weep, till God inclined the rogues' hearts towards us\nand they said to us, 'Who is the owner of the house in which you\nwere?' 'Such an one, the jeweller,' answered we; whereupon quoth\none of them, 'I know him well and where he lives, and I will\nengage to bring him to you forthright.' Then they agreed to set\nme in a place by myself and Ali ben Bekkar in a place by himself,\nand said to us, 'Be at rest and fear not lest your secret be\ndivulged; ye are safe from us.' Meanwhile their comrade went away\nand returned with the jeweller, who made known to them our case,\nand we joined company with him; after which one of the band\nfetched a boat, in which they embarked us all three and rowing us\nover the river, landed us on the opposite bank and went away;\nwhereupon up came a horse-patrol and asked us who we were. So I\nspoke with the captain and said to him, 'I am Shemsennehar, the\nKhalif's favourite; I had drunken wine and went out to visit\ncertain of my acquaintance of the wives of the Viziers, when\nyonder rogues laid hold of me and brought me hither; but when\nthey saw you, they fled. I met these men with them; so do thou\nescort me and them to a place of safety and I will requite thee.'\nWhen the captain heard my speech, he knew me and alighting,\nmounted me on his horse; and in like manner did two of his men\nwith Ali and the jeweller. And now my heart is on fire on their\naccount, especially for Ali's friend the jeweller: so do thou go\nto him and salute him and ask him for news of Ali ben Bekkar.\" I\nspoke to her and blamed her and bade her beware, saying' \"O my\nlady, have a care for thyself and give up this intrigue.\" But she\nwas angered at my words and cried out at me. So I came forth in\nquest of thee, but found thee not and dared not go to Ali's\nhouse; so stood watching for thee, that I might ask thee of him\nand know how it is with him. And I beg thee, of thy favour, to\ntake some money of me, for belike thou borrowedst of thy friends\nsome of the goods, and as they are lost, it behoves thee to make\nthem compensation.' 'I hear and obey,' answered I. 'Go on.' And I\nwalked with her till we drew near my house, when she said to me,\n'Wait till I return to thee.' So she went away and presently\nreturned with a bag of money, which she handed to me, saying, 'O\nmy lord, where shall we meet?' Quoth I, 'I will go to my house at\nonce and suffer hardship for thy sake and contrive how thou mayst\nwin to him, for access to him is difficult at this present.' 'Let\nme know where I shall come to thee,' said she, and I answered,\n'In my other house; I will go thither forthright and have the\ndoors repaired and the place made secure again, and henceforth we\nwill meet there.' Then she took leave of me and went her way,\nwhilst I carried the money home, and counting it, found it five\nthousand diners. I gave my people some of it and made good their\nloss to all who had lent me aught, after which I took my servants\nand repaired to my other house, with builders and carpenters,\nwho restored it to its former state. Moreover, I placed my\nnegress-slave there and forgot what had befallen me. Then I\nrepaired to Ali ben Bekkar's house, where his servants accosted\nme, saying, 'Our lord calls for thee day and night and hath\npromised his freedom to whichever of us brings thee to him; so we\nhave been in quest of thee everywhere, but knew not where to find\nthee. Our master is by way of recovery, but he has frequent\nrelapses, and when he revives, he names thee and says, \"Needs\nmust ye bring him to me, though but for an instant,\" and sinks\nback into his torpor.' So I went in to Ali ben Bekkar and finding\nhim unable to speak, sat down at his head, whereupon he opened\nhis eyes and seeing me, wept and said, 'Welcome and fair\nwelcome!' I raised him and making him sit up, strained him to my\nbosom, and he said, 'Know, O my brother, that, since I took to my\nbed, I have not sat up till now: praised be God that I see thee\nagain!' Presently, little by little, I made him stand up and walk\na few steps, after which I changed his clothes and he drank some\nwine. All this he did to please me. Then, seeing him to be\nsomewhat restored, I told him what had befallen me with the\nslave-girl, none else hearing me, and said to him, 'I know what\nthou sufferest; but take heart and be of good courage; for\nhenceforth nought shall betide thee, but what shall rejoice thee\nand ease thine heart.' He smiled and called for food, which being\nbrought, he signed to his servants, and they withdrew. Then said\nhe to me, 'O my brother, thou seest what hath befallen me;' and\nhe made his excuses to me and enquired how I had fared all that\nwhile. I told him all that had befallen me, from first to last,\nat which he wondered and calling his servants, said, 'Bring me\nsuch and such things.' Accordingly, they brought in rich carpets\nand hangings and utensils of gold and silver, more than I had\nlost, and he gave them all to me; so I sent them to my house and\nabode with him that night. When the day began to break, he said\nto me, 'To everything there is an end, and the end of love is\ndeath or enjoyment. I am nearer unto death, would I had died ere\nthis befell! For, had not God favoured us, we had been discovered\nand put to shame. And now I know not what shall deliver me from\nthis my strait, and were it not that I fear God, I would hasten\nmy own death; for know, O my brother, that I am like the bird in\nthe cage and that my life is of a surety perished, by reason of\nthe distresses that have befallen me; yet hath it a fixed period\nand an appointed term.' And he wept and groaned and repeated the\nfollowing verses:\n\nIndeed, it sufficeth the lover the time that his tears have run;\n     As for affliction, of patience it hath him all fordone.\nHe who concealeth the secrets conjoined us heretofore And now His\n     hand hath severed that which Himself made one.\n\nWhen he had finished, I said to him, 'O my lord, I would fain\nreturn to my house; it may be the damsel will come back to me\nwith news.' 'It is well,' answered he; 'go and return to me\nspeedily with news, for thou seest my condition.' So I took leave\nof him and went home. Hardly had I sat down, when up came the\ndamsel, choked with her tears. 'What is the matter?' asked I, and\nshe said, 'O my lord, what we feared has fallen on us; for, when\nI returned yesterday to my lady, I found her enraged with one of\nthe two maids who were with us the other night, and she ordered\nher to be beaten. The girl took fright and ran away; but one of\nthe gate-keepers stopped her and would have sent her back to her\nmistress. However, she let fall some hints, which excited his\ncuriosity; so he coaxed her and led her on to talk, and she\nacquainted him with our case. This came to the ears of the\nKhalif, who bade remove my mistress and all her gear to his own\npalace and set over her a guard of twenty eunuchs. Since then he\nhas not visited her nor given her to know the cause of his\naction, but I suspect this to be the cause; wherefore I am in\nfear for myself and am perplexed, O my lord, knowing not what I\nshall do nor how I shall order my affair and hers, for she had\nnone more trusted nor trustier than myself. So do thou go quickly\nto Ali ben Bekkar and acquaint him with this, that he may be on\nhis guard; and if the affair be discovered, we will cast about\nfor a means of saving ourselves.' At this, I was sore troubled\nand the world grew dark in my sight for the girl's words. Then\nshe turned to go, and I said to her, 'What is to be done?' Quoth\nshe, 'My counsel is that thou hasten to Ali ben Bekkar, if thou\nbe indeed his friend and desire his escape; thine be it to carry\nhim the news forthright, and be it mine to watch for further\nnews.' Then she took her leave of me and went away. I followed\nher out and betaking myself to Ali ben Bekkar, found him\nflattering himself with hopes of speedy enjoyment and staying\nhimself with vain expectations. When he saw me, he said, 'I see\nthou hast come back to me forthwith' 'Summon up all thy\npatience,' answered I, 'and put away thy vain doting and shake\noff thy preoccupation, for there hath befallen that which may\nbring about the loss of thy life and goods.' When he heard this,\nhe was troubled and his colour changed and he said to me, 'O my\nbrother, tell me what hath happened.' 'O my lord,' replied I,\n'such and such things have happened and thou art lost without\nrecourse, if thou abide in this thy house till the end of the\nday.' At this he was confounded and his soul well-nigh departed\nhis body, but he recovered himself and said to me, 'What shall I\ndo, O my brother, and what is thine advice?' 'My advice,'\nanswered I, 'is that thou take what thou canst of thy property\nand whom of thy servants thou trustest and flee with me to a land\nother than this, ere the day come to an end.' And he said, 'I\nhear and obey.' So he rose, giddy and dazed, now walking and now\nfalling down and took what came under his hand. Then he made an\nexcuse to his household and gave them his last injunctions, after\nwhich he loaded three camels and mounted his hackney. I did the\nlike and we went forth privily in disguise and fared on all day\nand night, till nigh upon morning, when we unloaded and hobbling\nour camels, lay down to sleep; but, being worn with fatigue, we\nneglected to keep watch, so that there fell on us robbers, who\nstripped us of all we had and slew our servants, when they would\nhave defended us, after which they made off with their booty,\nleaving us naked and in the sorriest of plights. As soon as they\nwere gone, we arose and walked on till morning, when we came to a\nvillage and took refuge in its mosque. We sat in a corner of the\nmosque all that day and the next night, without meat or drink;\nand at daybreak, we prayed the morning prayer and sat down again.\nPresently, a man entered and saluting us, prayed a two-bow\nprayer, after which he turned to us and said, 'O folk, are ye\nstrangers?' 'Yes,' answered we, 'robbers waylaid us and stripped\nus, and we came to this town, but know none here with whom we may\nshelter.' Quoth he, 'What say you? Will you come home with me?'\nAnd I said to Ali ben Bekkar, 'Let us go with him, and we shall\nescape two evils; first, our fear lest some one who knows us\nenter the mosque and so we be discovered; and secondly, that we\nare strangers and have no place to lodge in.' 'As thou wilt,'\nanswered he. Then the man said to us again, 'O poor folk, give\near unto me and come with me to my house.' 'We hear and obey,'\nanswered I; whereupon he pulled off a part of his own clothes and\ncovered us therewith and made his excuses to us and spoke kindly\nto us. Then we accompanied him to his house and he knocked at the\ndoor, whereupon a little servant came out and opened to us. We\nentered after our host, who called for a parcel of clothes and\nmuslin for turbans, and gave us each a suit of clothes and a\npiece of muslin; so we made us turbans and sat down. Presently,\nin came a damsel with a tray of food and set it before us,\nsaying, 'Eat.' We ate a little and she took away the tray; after\nwhich we abode with our host till nightfall, when Ali ben Bekkar\nsighed and said to me, 'Know, O my brother, that I am a dead man\nand I have a charge to give thee: it is that, when thou seest me\ndead, thou go to my mother and tell her and bid her come hither,\nthat she may be present at the washing of my body and take order\nfor my funeral; and do thou exhort her to bear my loss with\npatience.' Then he fell down in a swoon and when he revived, he\nheard a damsel singing afar off and addressed himself to give ear\nto her and hearken to her voice; and now he was absent from the\nworld and now came to himself, and anon he wept for grief and\nmourning at what had befallen him. Presently, he heard the damsel\nsing the following verses:\n\nParting hath wrought in haste our union to undo After the\n     straitest loves and concord 'twixt us two.\nThe shifts of night and day have torn our lives apart. When shall\n     we meet again? Ah, would to God I knew!\nAfter conjoined delight, how bitter sev'rance is! Would God it\n     had no power to baffle lovers true!\nDeath's anguish hath its hour, then endeth; but the pain Of\n     sev'rance from the loved at heart is ever new.\nCould we but find a way to come at parting's self, We'd surely\n     make it taste of parting's cup of rue.\n\nWhen he heard this, he gave one sob and his soul quitted his\nbody. As soon as I saw that he was dead, I committed his body to\nthe care of the master of the house and said to him, 'I go to\nBaghdad, to tell his mother and kinsfolk, that they may come\nhither and take order for his burial' So I betook myself to\nBaghdad and going to my house, changed my clothes, after which I\nrepaired to Ali ben Bekkar's lodging. When his servants saw me,\nthey came to me and questioned me of him, and I bade them ask\nleave for me to go in to his mother. She bade admit me; so I\nentered and saluting her, said, 'Verily God orders the lives of\nall creatures by His commandment and when He decreeth aught,\nthere is no escaping its fulfilment, nor can any soul depart but\nby His leave, according to the Writ which prescribeth the\nappointed terms.' She guessed by these words that her son was\ndead and wept sore, then she said to me, 'I conjure thee by\nAllah, tell me, is my son dead?' I could not answer her for tears\nand much grief, and when she saw me thus, she was choked with\nweeping and fell down in a swoon. As soon as she came to herself,\nshe said to me, 'Tell me how my son died.' 'May God abundantly\nrequite thee for him!' answered I and told her all that had\nbefallen him, from first to last. 'Did he give thee any charge?'\nasked she. 'Yes,' answered I and told her what he had said,\nadding, 'Hasten to take order for his funeral.' When she heard\nthis, she swooned away again; and when she recovered, she\naddressed herself to do as I bade her. Then I returned to my\nhouse; and as I went along, musing sadly upon his fair youth, a\nwoman caught hold of my hand. I looked at her and behold, it was\nShemsennehar's slave-girl, broken for grief. When we knew each\nother, we both wept and gave not over weeping till we reached my\nhouse, and I said to her, 'Knowest thou the news of Ali ben\nBekkar?' 'No, by Allah,' replied she; so I told her the manner of\nhis death and all that had passed, whilst we both wept; after\nwhich I said to her, 'And how is it with thy mistress?' Quoth\nshe, 'The Khalif would not hear a word against her, but saw all\nher actions in a favourable light, of the great love he bore her,\nand said to her, \"O Shemsennehar, thou art dear to me and I will\nbear with thee and cherish thee, despite thine enemies.\" Then he\nbade furnish her a saloon decorated with gold and a handsome\nsleeping-chamber, and she abode with him in all ease of life and\nhigh favour. One day, as he sat at wine, according to his wont,\nwith his favourites before him, he bade them be seated in their\nplaces and made Shemsennehar sit by his side. (Now her patience\nwas exhausted and her disorder redoubled upon her.) Then he bade\none of the damsels sing: so she took a lute and tuning it,\npreluded and sang the following verses:\n\nOne sought me of lore and I yielded and gave him that which he\n     sought. And my tears write the tale of my transport in\n     furrows upon my cheek.\nMeseemeth as if the teardrops were ware, indeed, of our case And\n     hide what I'd fain discover and tell what to hide I seek.\nHow can I hope to be secret and hide the love that I feel, Whenas\n     the stress of my longing my passion for thee doth speak?\nDeath, since the loss of my loved ones, is sweet to me: would I\n     knew What unto them is pleasant, now that they've lost me\n     eke!\n\nWhen Shemsennehar heard these verses, she could not keep her\nseat, but fell down in a swoon, whereupon the Khalif threw the\ncup from his hand and drew her to him, crying out. The damsels\nclamoured and he turned her over and shook her, and behold, she\nwas dead. The Khalif grieved sore for her death and bade break\nall the vessels and lutes and other instruments of mirth and\nmusic in the place; then carrying her body to his closet, he\nabode with her the rest of the night. When the day broke, he laid\nher out and commanded to wash her and shroud her and bury her.\nAnd he mourned very sore for her and questioned not of her case\nnor what ailed her. And I beg thee in God's name,' continued the\ndamsel, 'to let me know the day of the coming of Ali ben Bekkar's\nfuneral train, that I may be present at his burial.' Quoth I,\n'For myself, thou canst find me where thou wilt; but thou, who\ncan come at thee where thou art?' 'On the day of Shemsennehar's\ndeath,' answered she, 'the Commander of the Faithful freed all\nher women, myself among the rest; and we are now abiding at the\ntomb in such a place.' So I accompanied her to the burial-ground\nand visited Shemennehar's tomb;[FN#18] after which I went my way\nand awaited the coming of Ali ben Bekkar's funeral. When it\narrived, the people of Baghdad went forth to meet it and I with\nthem; and I saw the damsel among the women and she the loudest of\nthem in lamentation, crying out and wailing with a voice that\nrent the vitals and made the heart ache. Never was seen in\nBaghdad a greater funeral than his and we ceased not to follow in\ncrowds, till we reached the cemetery and buried him to the mercy\nof God the most High; nor from that time to this have I ceased to\nvisit his tomb and that of Shemsennehar.\" This, then, is their\nstory, and may God the Most High have mercy upon them!\n\n\n\n\n\n                    KEMEREZZEMAN AND BUDOUR.\n\n\n\nThere was once, of old time, a king called Shehriman, who was\nlord of many troops and guards and officers and reigned over\ncertain islands, known as the Khalidan Islands, on the borders of\nthe land of the Persians; but he was grown old and decrepit,\nwithout having been blessed with a son, albeit he had four wives,\ndaughters of kings, and threescore concubines, with each of whom\nhe was wont to lie one night in turn.  This preyed upon his mind\nand disquieted him, so that he complained thereof to one of his\nViziers, saying, 'I fear lest my kingdom be lost, when I die, for\nthat I have no son to take it after me.'  'O King,' answered the\nVizier, 'peradventure God shall yet provide for this; do thou put\nthy trust in Him and be constant in supplication to Him.'  So the\nKing rose and making his ablutions, prayed a two-bow prayer with\na believing heart; after which he called one of his wives to bed\nand lay with her forthright.  By God's grace, she conceived by\nhim and when her months were accomplished, she bore a male child,\nlike the moon on the night of its full.  The King named him\nKemerezzeman and rejoiced in him with exceeding joy and bade\ndecorate the city in his honour.  So they decorated the city\nseven days, whilst the drums beat and the messengers bore the\nglad tidings abroad.  Meanwhile nurses and attendants were\nprovided for the boy and he was reared in splendour and delight,\nuntil he reached the age of fifteen.  He grew up of surpassing\nbeauty and symmetry, and his father loved him very dear, so that\nhe could not brook to be parted from him day or night.  One day,\nhe complained to one of his Viziers of the excess of his love for\nhis son, saying, 'O Vizier, of a truth I fear the shifts and\naccidents of fortune for my son Kemerezzeman and fain would I\nmarry him in my lifetime.'  'O King,' answered the Vizier,\n'marriage is one of the most honourable of actions, and thou\nwouldst indeed do well to marry thy son in thy lifetime, ere\nthou make him king.'  Quoth the King, 'Fetch me my son;' so\nKemerezzeman came and bowed his head before his father, out of\nmodesty.  'O Kemerezzeman,' said the King, 'I desire to marry\nthee and rejoice in thee in my lifetime.'  'O my father,'\nanswered the prince, 'know that I have no wish to marry, nor doth\nmy soul incline to women; for that I have read many books and\nheard much talk concerning their craft and perfidy, even as saith\nthe poet:\n\nIf ye would know of women and question of their case, Lo, I am\n     versed in their fashions and skilled all else above.\nWhen a man's head grows grizzled or for the nonce his wealth\n     Falls from his hand, then, trust me, he hath no part in\n     their love.\n\nAnd again:\n\nGainsay women; he obeyeth Allah best who saith them nay, And he\n     prospers not who giveth them his bridle-rein to sway;\nFor they'll hinder him from winning to perfection in his gifts,\n     Though a thousand years he study, seeking after wisdom's\n     way.\n\nWherefore (continued Kemerezzeman) marriage is a thing to which I\nwill never consent; no, not though I drink the cup of death.'\nWhen the King heard this, the light in his sight became darkness\nand he was excessively chagrined at his son's lack of obedience\nto his wishes; yet, for the great love he bore him, he forbore to\npress him and was not wroth with him, but caressed him and spoke\nhim fair and showed him all manner of kindness such as tends to\ncultivate affection.  He took patience with him a whole year,\nduring which time Kemerezzeman increased daily in beauty and\nelegance and amorous grace, till he became perfect in eloquence\nand loveliness.  All men were ravished with his beauty and every\nbreeze that blew carried the tidings of his charms; he was a\nseduction to lovers and a garden of delight to longing hearts,\nfor he was sweet of speech and his face put the full moon to\nshame.  Accomplished in symmetry as in elegance and engaging\nmanners, his shape was slender and graceful as the willow-wand or\nthe flowering cane and his cheeks might pass for roses or\nblood-red anemones.  He was, in fine, charming in all respects,\neven as the poet hath said of him:\n\nHe comes and \"Blest be God!\" say all men, high and base. \"Glory\n     to Him who shaped and fashioned forth his face!\"\nHe's monarch of the fair, wherever they may be;  For, lo, they're\n     all become the liegemen of his grace.\nThe water of his mouth is liquid honey-dew And 'twixt his lips\n     for teeth fine pearls do interlace.\nPerfect in every trait of beauty and unique, His witching\n     loveliness distracts the human race.\nBeauty itself hath writ these words upon his cheek, \"Except this\n     youth there's none that's fair in any place.\"\n\nWhen the year came to an end, the King called his son to him and\nsaid, 'O my son, wilt thou not hearken to me?'  Whereupon\nKemerezzeman fell down for respect and shame before his father\nand replied, 'O my father, how should I not hearken to thee,\nseeing that God commandeth me to obey thee and not gainsay thee?'\n'O my son,' said King Shehriman, 'know that I desire to marry\nthee and rejoice in thee, whilst yet I live, and make thee king\nover my realm, before my death.'  When the prince heard this, he\nbowed his head awhile, then raised it and said, 'O my father,\nthis is a thing that I will never do, though I drink the cup of\ndeath.  I know of a surety that God the Most High enjoins on me\nobedience to thee; but in His name I conjure thee, press me not\nin this matter of marriage, neither think that I will ever marry\nmy life long; for that I have read the books both of the ancients\nand the moderns and have come to know all the troubles and\ncalamities that have befallen them through women and the\ndisasters that have sprung from their craft without end.  How\nwell says the poet:\n\nHe, whom the baggages entrap, Deliverance shall never know,\nAlthough a thousand forts he build, Plated with lead;--'gainst\n     such a foe\nIt shall not profit him to build Nor citadels avail, I trow.\nWomen are traitresses to all, Both near and far and high and low.\nWith fingers dyed and flowing hair Plaited with tresses, sweet of\n     show,\nAnd eyelids beautified with kohl, They make one drink of bale and\n     woe.\n\nAnd no less excellently saith another:\n\nWomen, for all to chastity they're bidden, everywhere Are carrion\n     tossed about of all the vultures of the air.\nTo-night their converse, ay, and all their secret charms are\n     thine, But on the morn their leg and wrist fall to another's\n     share;\nLike to an inn in which thou lodg'st, departing with the dawn,\n     And one thou know'st not, after thee, lights down and lodges\n     there.\n\nWhen King Shehriman heard these his son's words, he made him no\nanswer, of his great love for him, but redoubled in favour and\nkindness to him.  As soon as the audience was over, he called his\nVizier and taking him apart, said to him, 'O Vizier, tell me how\nI shall do with my son in this matter of his marriage.  I took\ncounsel with thee thereon and thou didst counsel me to marry him,\nbefore making him king.  I have spoken with him once and again of\nmarriage, and he still gainsaid me; so do thou now counsel me\nwhat to do.'  'O King,' answered the Vizier, 'wait another year,\nand if after that thou be minded to speak to him on the matter of\nmarriage, do it not privily, but on a day of state, when all the\nViziers and Amirs are present and all the troops standing before\nthee.  Then send for thy son and broach to him the matter of\nmarriage before the Viziers and grandees and officers of state\nand captains; for he will surely be daunted by their presence and\nwill not dare to oppose thy will.'  The King rejoiced exceedingly\nin his Vizier's advice, deeming it excellent, and bestowed on him\na splendid robe of honour.  Then he took patience with his son\nanother year, whilst, with every day that passed over him,\nKemerezzeman increased in grace and beauty and elegance and\nperfection, till he was nigh twenty years old.  Indeed, God had\nclad him in the habit of beauty and crowned him with the crown of\nperfection: his eyes were more ensorcelling than Harout and\nMarout[FN#19] and the play of his glances more misleading than\nTaghout.[FN#20] His cheeks shone with redness and his eyelashes\noutvied the keen-edged sword: the whiteness of his forehead\nresembled the shining moon and the blackness of his hair was as\nthe murky night.  His waist was more slender than the gossamer\nand his buttocks heavier than two hills of sand, troubling the\nheart with their softness; but his waist complained of their\nweight.  In fine, his charms ravished all mankind, even as saith\nthe poet:\n\nBy his cheeks' unfading damask and his smiling teeth I swear, By\n     the arrows that he feathers with the witchery of his air,\nBy his sides so soft and tender and his glances bright and keen,\n     By the whiteness of his forehead and the blackness of his\n     hair,\nBy his arched imperious eyebrows, chasing slumber from mine eyes,\n     With their yeas and noes that hold me 'twixt rejoicing and\n     despair,\nBy the scorpious[FN#21] that he launches from his\n     ringlet-clustered brows, Seeking ever in their meshes\n     hapless lovers to ensnare,\nBy the myrtle of his whiskers and the roses of his cheeks, By his\n     lips' incarnate rubies and his teeth's fine pearls and rare,\nBy his breath's delicious fragrance and the waters of his mouth,\n     That defy old wine and choicest with their sweetness to\n     compare,\nBy his heavy hips that tremble, both in motion and repose, And\n     the slender waist above them, all too slight their weight to\n     bear,\nBy his hand's perennial bounty and his true and trusty speech, By\n     the stars that smile upon him, favouring and debonair,\nLo, the scent of musk none other than his very perfume is, And\n     the ambergris's fragrance breathes about him everywhere.\nYea, the sun in all his splendour cannot with his brightness vie,\n     And the crescent moon's a fragment that he from his nail\n     doth pare.\n\nThe King, accordingly, waited till a day of state, when the\naudience hall was filled with his Amirs and Viziers and grandees\nand officers of state and captains.  As soon as they were all\nassembled, he sent for his son Kemerezzeman, who came and kissing\nthe earth three times, stood before him, with his hands clasped\nbehind his back.  Then said the King to him, 'Know, O my son,\nthat I have sent for thee and summoned thee to appear before this\nassembly and all these officers of state that I may lay a\ncommandment on thee, wherein do thou not gainsay me.  It is that\nthou marry, for I am minded to wed thee to a king's daughter and\nrejoice in thee ere I die.'  When the prince heard these his\nfather's words, he bowed his head awhile, then raising it,\nreplied, being moved thereto by youthful folly and boyish\nignorance, 'Never will I marry, no, not though I drink the cup of\ndeath!  As for thee, thou art great in years and little of wit:\nhast thou not, twice before this, questioned me of the matter of\nmarriage, and I refused thee?  Indeed, thou dotest and art not\nfit to govern a flock of sheep!'  So saying, he unclasped his\nhands from behind his back and rolled up his sleeves, in his\nrage; moreover, he added many words to his father, knowing not\nwhat he said, in the trouble of his spirit.  The King was\nconfounded and ashamed, for that this befell in the presence of\nhis grandees and officers assembled on an occasion of state; but\npresently the energy of kingship took him and he cried out upon\nhis son and made him tremble.  Then he called to his guards and\nbade them seize him and bind his hands behind his back.  So they\nlaid hands on Kemerezzeman and binding him, brought him before\nhis father, full of shame and confusion, with his head bowed down\nfor fear and inquietude and his brow and face beaded with sweat.\nThe King loaded him with reproaches, saying, 'Out on thee, thou\nwhoreson and nursling of abomination!  Dost thou dare to answer\nme thus before my captains and officers?  But hitherto none hath\ncorrected thee.  Knowest thou not that this thou hast done were\ndisgraceful in the meanest of my subjects?'  And he commanded his\nguards to loose his bonds and imprison him in one of the turrets\nof the citadel.  So they carried the prince into an old tower,\nwherein there was a dilapidated saloon, after having first swept\nit and cleansed its floor and set him a couch in its midst, on\nwhich they laid a mattress, a leathern rug and a cushion. Then\nthey brought him a great lantern and a candle, for the place\nwas dark, even by day, and posting an eunuch at the door, left\nhim to himself.  Kemerezzeman threw himself on the couch,\nbroken-spirited and mournful-hearted, blaming himself and\nrepenting of his unseemly behaviour to his father, when\nrepentance availed him nothing, and saying, 'May God curse\nmarriage and girls and women, the traitresses!  Would I had\nhearkened to my father and married!  It were better for me than\nthis prison.'\n\nMeanwhile, King Shehriman abode on his throne till sundown, when\nhe took the Vizier apart and said to him, 'O Vizier, thine advice\nis the cause of all this that hath befallen between me and my\nson.  What doth thou counsel me to do now?'  'O King,' answered\nhe, 'leave thy son in prison for the space of fifteen days; then\nsend for him and command him to marry, and he will not again\ngainsay thee.'  The King accepted the Vizier's counsel and lay\ndown to sleep, troubled at heart concerning Kemerezzeman, for he\nloved him very dearly, having no other child, and it was his wont\nnot to sleep, save with his arm about his son's neck.  So he\npassed the night in trouble and unease, tossing from side to\nside, as he were laid on coals of tamarisk-wood; for he was\novercome with inquietude and sleep visited him not all that\nnight; but his eyes ran over with tears and he repeated the\nfollowing verses:\n\nThe night, whilst the slanderers sleep, is tedious unto me;\n     Suffice thee a heart that aches for parting's agony!\nI cry, whilst my night for care grows long and longer aye, \"O\n     light of the morning, say, is there no returning for thee?\"\n\nAnd these also:\n\nWhen the Ple\u00efads I saw leave to shine in their stead And over the\n     pole-star a lethargy shed\nAnd the maids of the Bier[FN#22] in black raiment unveiled, I\n     knew that the lamp of the morning was dead.\n\nTo return to Kemerezzeman.  When the night came on, the eunuch\nset the lantern before him and lighting a candle, placed it in\nthe candlestick; then brought him food.  The prince ate a little\nand reproached himself for his ill-behaviour to his father,\nsaying to himself, 'O my soul, knowst thou not that a son of Adam\nis the hostage of his tongue and that a man's tongue is what\ncasts him into perils?'  Then his eyes ran over with tears and he\nbewailed that which he had done, from an anguished heart and an\naching bosom, repenting him with an exceeding repentance of the\nwrong he had done his father repeating the following verses:\n\nFor the sheer stumble of his tongue the youth must death aby,\n     Though for the stumble of his foot the grown man shall not\n     die.\nThus doth the slipping of his mouth smite off his head, I ween,\n     What while the slipping of his foot is healed, as time goes\n     by.\n\nWhen he had made an end of eating, he called the eunuch, who\nwashed his hands.  Then he made his ablutions and prayed the\nprayers of sundown and nightfall, after which he sat down on the\ncouch, to read[FN#23] the Koran.  He read the chapters called\n'The Cow,' 'The family of Imran,'  'Ya-Sin,' 'The Compassionate,'\n'Blessed be the King,' 'Unity' and 'The two Amulets,' and\nconcluded with blessing and supplication, seeking refuge with God\nfrom Satan the accursed.  Then he put off his trousers and the\nrest of his clothes and lay down, in a shirt of fine waxed cloth\nand a coif of blue stuff of Merv, upon a mattress of satin,\nembroidered on both sides with gold and quilted with Irak silk,\nhaving under his head a pillow stuffed with ostrich-down.  In\nthis guise, he was like the full moon, when it rises on its\nfourteenth night.  Then, drawing over himself a coverlet of silk,\nhe fell asleep with the lantern burning at his feet and the\ncandle at his head, and woke not for a third part of the night,\nbeing ignorant of that which lurked for him in the secret purpose\nof God and what He who knoweth the hidden things had appointed\nunto him.  Now, as chance and destiny would have it, the tower in\nquestion was old and had been many years deserted; and there was\ntherein a Roman well, inhabited by an Afriteh of the lineage of\nIblis the Accursed, by name Maimouneh, daughter of Ed Dimiryat, a\nrenowned King of the Jinn.  In the middle of the night, Maimouneh\ncame up out of the well and made for heaven, thinking to listen\nby stealth to the discourse of the angels; but, when she reached\nthe mouth of the well, she saw a light shining in the tower,\ncontrary to wont; whereat she was mightily amazed, having dwelt\nthere many years and never seen the like, and said to herself,\n'Needs must there be some cause for this.'  So she made for the\nlight and found that it came from the saloon, at whose door she\nfound the eunuch sleeping.  She entered and saw a man Iying\nasleep upon the couch, with the lantern burning at his feet and\nthe candle at his head; at which she wondered and going softly\nup to him, folded her wings and drawing back the coverlid,\ndiscovered his face.  The lustre of his visage outshone that of\nthe candle, and the Afriteh abode awhile, astounded at his beauty\nand grace; for his face beamed with light, his cheeks were\nrose-red and his eyelids languorous; his brows were arched like\nbows and his whole person exhaled a scent of musk, even as saith\nof him the poet:\n\nI kissed him and his cheeks forthwith grew red, and black and\n     bright The pupils grew that are my soul's seduction and\n     delight.\nO heart, if slanderers avouch that there exists his like For\n     goodliness, say thou to them, \"Produce him to my sight.\"\n\nWhen Maimouneh saw him, she glorified God and said, 'Blessed be\nAllah, the best of Creators!'  For she was of the true-believing\nJinn.  She stood awhile, gazing on his face, proclaiming the\nunity of God and envying the youth his beauty and grace.  And she\nsaid in herself, 'By Allah, I will do him no hurt nor let any\nharm him, but will ransom him from all ill, for this fair face\ndeserves not but that folk should look upon it and glorify God.\nBut how could his family find it in their hearts to leave him in\nthis desert place, where if one of our Marids came upon him at\nthis hour, he would kill him?'  Then she bent over him and\nkissing him between the eyes, folded back the coverlet over his\nface; after which she spread her wings and soaring into the air,\nflew upward till she drew near the lowest heaven, when she heard\nthe noise of wings beating the air and making for the sound,\nfound that it came from an Afrit called Dehnesh.  So she swooped\ndown on him like a sparrow-hawk; and when he was ware of her and\nknew her to be Maimouneh, daughter of the King of the Jinn, he\nfeared her and his nerves trembled; and he implored her\nforbearance, saying, 'I conjure thee by the Most Great and August\nName and by the most noble talisman graven upon the seal of\nSolomon, entreat me kindly and harm me not!'  When she heard\nthis, her heart inclined to him and she said, 'Verily, thou\nconjurest me with a mighty conjuration, O accursed one!\nNevertheless, I will not let thee go, till thou tell me whence\nthou comest at this hour.'  'O princess,' answered he, 'know that\nI come from the uttermost end of the land of Cathay and from\namong the islands, and I will tell thee of a wonderful thing I\nhave seen this night.  If thou find my words true, let me go my\nway and write me a patent under thy hand that I am thy freedman,\nso none of the Jinn, whether of the air or the earth, divers or\nflyers,[FN#24] may do me let or hindrance.'  'And what is it thou\nhast seen this night, O liar, O accursed one?'  rejoined\nMaimouneh.  'Tell me without leasing and think not to escape from\nmy hand with lies, for I swear to thee by the inscription on the\nbeazel of the ring of Solomon son of David (on whom be peace,)\nexcept thy speech be true, I will pluck out thy feathers with\nmine own hand and strip off thy skin and break thy bones.'  'I\naccept this condition, O my lady,' answered Dehnesh, son of\nShemhourish the Flyer.  'Know that I come to-night from the\nIslands of the Inland Sea in the parts of Cathay, which are the\ndominions of King Gha\u00efour, lord of the Islands and the Seas and\nthe Seven Palaces.  There I saw a daughter of his, than whom God\nhath made none fairer in her time,--I cannot picture her to thee,\nfor my tongue would fail to describe her aright; but I will name\nto thee somewhat of her charms, by way of approximation.  Her\nhair is like the nights of estrangement and separation and her\nface like the days of union; and the poet hath well described her\nwhen he says:\n\nShe took up three locks of her hair and spread them out one night\n     And straight four nights discovered at once unto my sight.\nThen did she turn her visage up to the moon of the sky And showed\n     me two moons at one season, both burning clear and bright.\n\nShe hath a nose like the point of the burnished sword and cheeks\nlike purple wine or blood-red anemones: her lips are like coral\nand cornelian and the water of her mouth is sweeter than old\nwine, its taste would allay the torments of Hell.  Her tongue is\nmoved by abounding wit and ready repartee: her breast is a\ntemptation to all that see it, glory be to Him who created it and\nfinished it: and joined thereto are two smooth round arms.  As\nsays of her the poet El Welhan:\n\nShe hath two wrists, which, were they not by bracelets held, I\n     trow, Would flow out of their sleeves as brooks of liquid\n     silver flow.\n\nShe has breasts like two globes of ivory, the moons borrow from\ntheir brightness, and a belly dimpled as it were a brocaded cloth\nof the finest Egyptian linen, with creases like folded scrolls,\nleading to a waist slender past conception, over buttocks like a\nhill of sand, that force her to sit, when she would fain stand,\nand awaken her, when she would sleep, even as saith of her the\npoet:\n\nHer slender waist a pair of buttocks overlies, The which both\n     over her and me do tyrannize.\nFor they confound my wit, whenas I think on them, And eke enforce\n     her sit, whenas she fain would rise.\n\nThey are upborne by smooth round thighs and legs like columns of\npearl, and all this rests upon two slender feet, pointed like\nspear-blades, the handiwork of God, the Protector and Requiter, I\nwonder how, of their littleness, they can sustain what is above\nthem.  But I cut short my description of her charms, lest I be\ntedious.  The father of this young lady is a powerful king, a\nfierce cavalier, immersed night and day in wars and battles,\nfearless of death and dreading not ruin, for that he is a\nmasterful tyrant and an irresistible conqueror, lord of troops\nand armies, continents and islands, cities and villages, and his\nname is King Gha\u00efour, lord of the Islands and the Seas and of the\nSeven Palaces.  He loves his daughter, the young lady whom I have\ndescribed to thee, very dearly, and for love of her, he gathered\ntogether the treasures of all the kings and built her therewith\nseven palaces, each of a different fashion; the first of crystal,\nthe second of marble, the third of China steel, the fourth of\nprecious stones, the fifth of porcelain and vari-coloured onyx,\nthe sixth of silver and the seventh of gold.  He filled the seven\npalaces with rich silken carpets and hangings and vessels of gold\nand silver and all manner of gear befitting kings and commanded\nhis daughter, whose name is the Princess Budour, to abide in each\nby turns for a certain season of the year.  When her beauty\nbecame known and her fame was noised abroad in the neighbouring\ncountries, all the kings sent to her father, to demand her in\nmarriage, and he consulted her on the matter, but she misliked it\nand said, \"O my father, I have no mind to marry; for I am a\nsovereign lady and a princess ruling over men, and I have no\ndesire for a man who shall rule over me.\" The more she refused,\nthe more the eagerness of her suitors increased and all the kings\nof the Islands of the Inland Sea sent gifts and offerings to her\nfather, with letters asking her in marriage.  So he pressed her\nagain and again to make choice of a husband, despite her\nrefusals, till at last she turned upon him angrily and said to\nhim, \"O my father, if thou name marriage to me again, I will go\ninto my chamber and take a sword and fixing its hilt in the\nground, set its point to my breast; then will I lean upon it,\ntill it come forth from my back, and so kill myself.\" When the\nKing heard this, the light became darkness in his sight and his\nheart was torn with anxiety and perplexity concerning her affair;\nfor he feared lest she should kill herself and knew not how to\ndeal with the kings who sought her hand.  So he said to her, \"If\nthou be irrevocably determined not to marry, abstain from going\nin and out.\" Then he shut her up in her chamber, appointing ten\nold body-women to guard her, and made as though he were wroth\nwith her, forbidding her to go forth to the seven palaces;\nmoreover, he sent letters to all the kings, giving them to know\nthat she had been stricken with madness.  It is now a year\n(continued Dehnesh) since she has been thus cloistered, and every\nnight I go to her, whilst she is asleep, and take my fill of\ngazing on her face and kiss her between the eyes: yet, of my love\nto her, I do her no hurt neither swive her, for that her youth is\nfair and her loveliness surpassing; every one who sees is jealous\nfor her of himself.  I conjure thee, therefore, O my lady, to go\nback with me and look on her beauty and symmetry; and after, if\nthou wilt, chastise me or enslave me: for it is thine to command\nand to forbid.'  So saying, he bowed his head towards the earth\nand drooped his wings; but Maimouneh laughed at his words and\nspitting in his face, answered, 'What is this girl of whom thou\npratest but a potsherd to cleanse the privities withal?  Faugh!\nFaugh!  By Allah, O accursed one, I thought thou hadst some rare\nstory to tell me or some marvel to make known to me!  How would\nit be if thou sawest my beloved?  Verily this night I have seen a\nyoung man whom if thou sawest though but in sleep, thou wouldst\nbe palsied with admiration and thy mouth would water.'  'And who\nand what is this youth?'  asked the Afrit.  'Know, O Dehnesh,'\nanswered she, 'that there hath befallen him the like of what\nbefell thy mistress; for his father pressed him again and again\nto marry, but he refused, till at length his father waxed wroth\nand imprisoned him in the tower where I dwell: and I came up\nto-night and saw him.'  'O my lady,' said Dehnesh, 'show me the\nyouth, that I may see if he be indeed handsomer than my mistress,\nthe Princess Budour, or not; for I cannot believe that there\nlives her equal.'  'Thou liest, O accursed one!'  rejoined\nMaimouneh.  'O most ill-omened of Marids and vilest of  Satans!\nSure am I that there is not in this world the like of my beloved.\nArt thou mad to even thy beloved with mine?'  'I conjure thee by\nAllah, O my lady,' said Dehnesh, 'to go back with me and see my\nmistress, and after I will return with thee and look upon thy\nbeloved.'  'It must needs be so, O accursed one!'  answered she.\n'Yet, for that thou art a knavish devil, I will not go with thee\nnor shalt thou come with me, save upon surety and condition of\npledge.  If thy beloved prove handsomer than mine, the pledge\nshall be thine against me; but if my beloved prove the fairer,\nthe pledge shall be mine against thee.'  'O my lady,' said\nDehnesh, 'I accept this thy condition; so come with me to the\nIslands.'  'Not so,' replied Maimouneh; 'for the abode of my\nbeloved is nearer than that of thine: here it is under us; so\ncome down with me and see my beloved, and after we will go look\nupon thy mistress.'  'I hear and obey,' said Dehnesh.  So they\ndescended and alighting on the tower, entered the saloon, where\nMaimouneh stationed Dehnesh beside the bed and putting out her\nhand, drew back the silken coverlet, whereupon Kemerezzeman's\nface shone out like the sun.  She looked at him a moment, then\nturning to Dehnesh, said, ''Look, O accursed one, and be not the\nvilest of madmen; I am a maiden and am ravished with him.'  So\nDehnesh looked at the prince and gazed steadfastly on him awhile,\nthen, shaking his head, said to Maimouneh, 'By Allah, O my lady,\nthou art excusable; but there is another thing to be considered,\nand that is that the female estate differs from the male.  By the\nvirtue of God, this thy beloved is the likest of all created\nthings to my mistress in beauty and loveliness and grace and\nit is as though they were both cast alike in the mould of\nperfection!'  When Maimouneh heard these words, the light in\nher sight became darkness and she dealt him so fierce a buffet\non the head with her wing as well-nigh made an end of him. Then,\n'I conjure thee,' said she, 'by the light of his glorious\ncountenance, go at once, O accursed one, and bring hither thy\nmistress in haste that we may lay them together and look on them\nboth, as they lie asleep side by side; so will it appear to us\nwhether is the goodlier and more beautiful of the two.  Except\nthou obey me forthright, I will dart my sparks at thee and\nconsume thee with my fire; yea, I will rend thee in pieces and\ncast thee into the deserts, as an example to stay-at-home and\nwayfarer.'  'O my lady,' answered the Afrit, 'I will do thy\nbidding, for I know that my mistress is the fairer and sweeter.'\nSo saying, he flew away and Maimouneh flew with him, to guard\nhim.  They were absent awhile and presently returned, bearing the\nyoung lady, who was clad in a shift of fine Venetian silk, laced\nwith gold and wrought with the most exquisite broidery and having\nthe following verses worked upon the ends of the sleeves:\n\nThree things for ever hinder her to visit us, for fear Of the\n     intriguing spy and eke the rancorous envier;\nHer forehead's lustre and the sound of all her ornaments And the\n     sweet scent her creases hold of ambergris and myrrh.\nGrant with the border of her sleeve she hide her brows and doff\n     Her ornaments, how shall she do her scent away from her?\n\nThey carried her into the saloon and laying her beside\nKemerezzeman, uncovered both their faces, and behold, they were\nthe likest of all folk, one to the other, as they were twins or\nan only brother and sister; and indeed they were a temptation to\nthe pious, even as says of them  the poet El Mubin:\n\nBe not thy love, O heart, to one alone confined, Lest, for that\n     one, amaze and doting thee enwind;\nBut love thou rather all the fair, and thou shalt find, If one\n     contrarious prove, another will be kind.\n\nAnd quoth another:\n\nTwo fair ones lying on the earth I did of late espy; Two that I\n     needs must love, although they lay upon mine eye.\n\nDehnesh and Maimouneh gazed on them awhile, and the former said,\n'By Allah, O my lady, it is good!  My mistress is assuredly the\nfairer.'  'Not so,' answered she, 'my beloved is the fairer.  Out\non thee, O Dehnesh!  Thou art blind of eye and heart and\ndistinguishest not between good and bad.[FN#25] Wilt thou hide\nthe truth?  Dost thou not see his beauty and grace and symmetry?\nOut on thee, hear what I purpose to say in praise of my beloved,\nand do thou the like for her thou lovest, an thou be a true\nlover.'  Then she kissed Kemerezzeman again and again between the\neyes and repeated the following ode:\n\nAh me, what ails the censurer that he at thee should flite? How\n     shall I be consoled for thee, and thou a sapling slight?\nThou of the black and languorous eye, that casteth far and wide\n     Charms, whose sheer witchery compels to passion's utmost\n     height,\nWhose looks, with Turkish languor fraught, work havoc in the\n     breast, Leaving such wounds as ne'er were made of falchion\n     in the fight,\nThou layst on me a heavy load of passion and desire, On me that\n     am too weak to bear a shift upon me dight.\nMy love for thee, as well thou know'st, my very nature is, And\n     that for others which I feign dissembling but and sleight.\nAn if my heart were like to thine, I'd not refuse; alack!  'Tis\n     but my body's like thy waist, worn thin and wasted quite.\nOut on him for a moon that's famed for beauty far and near, That\n     for th' exemplar of all grace men everywhere do cite!\nThe railers say, \"Who's this for love of whom thou art\n     distressed?\" And I reply, \"An if ye can, describe the lovely\n     wight.\"\nO learn to yield, hard heart of his, take pattern by his shape!\n     So haply yet he may relent and put away despite.\nThou, that my prince in beauty art, a steward[FN#26] hast, whose\n     rule Aggrieves me and a chamberlain[FN#27] that doth me foul\n     upright.\nHe lies who says, \"All loveliness in Joseph was comprised.\" How\n     many a Joseph is there not within thy beauty bright!\nThe Jinn do fear me, whenas I confront them face to face; But\n     when I meet with thee, my heart doth tremble for affright.\nI feign aversion unto thee, for fear of slanderous tongues; The\n     more I feign, the more my love to madness I excite.\nBlack hair and smooth and glistening brows, eyes languorous and\n     soft, As of the maids of Paradise, and slender shape and\n     slight!\n\nWhen Dehnesh heard this, he shook for delight and was filled with\nadmiration and said, 'Thou hast indeed done well in praise of him\nwhom thou lovest!  Needs must I do my endeavour, in my turn, to\ncelebrate my mistress, to the best of my power, and recite\nsomewhat in her honour.'  Then he went up to the lady Budour and\nkissing her  between the eyes, looked at her and at Maimouneh and\nrecited the following verses, for all he had no skill in poetry:\n\nThey chide my passion for my fair in harsh and cruel guise; But,\n     of their ignorance, forsooth, they're neither just nor wise.\nVouchsafe thy favours to the slave of love, for, an he taste Of\n     thine estrangement and disdain, assuredly he dies.\nIndeed, for very stress of love, I'm drenched with streaming\n     tears, That, like a rivulet of blood, run ever from mine\n     eyes.\nNo wonder 'tis what I for love endure; the wonder is That any,\n     since the loss of thee, my body recognize.\nForbidden be thy sight to me, if I've a thought of doubt Or if my\n     heart of passion tire or feign or use disguise!\n\nAnd also the following:\n\nI feed mine eyes on the places where we met long ago; Far distant\n     now is the valley and I'm forslain for woe.\nI'm drunk with the wine of passion and the teardrops in mine eyes\n     Dance to the song of the leader of the camels, as we go.\nI cease not from mine endeavour to win to fortune fair; Yet in\n     Budour, Suada,[FN#28] all fortune is, I know.\nThree things I reckon, I know not of which to most complain; Give\n     ear whilst I recount them and be you judge, I trow.\nFirstly, her eyes, the sworders; second, the spearman, her shape,\n     And thirdly, her ringlets that clothe her in armour,[FN#29]\n     row upon row.\nQuoth she (and indeed I question, for tidings of her I love, All\n     whom I meet, or townsman or Bedouin, high or low)\nQuoth she unto me, \"My dwelling is in thy heart; look there And\n     thou shalt see me.\" I answer, \"And where is my heart?\n     Heigho!\"\n\nWhen Maimouneh heard this, she said, 'Thou hast done well, O\nDehnesh!  But tell me, which of the two is the handsomer?'  And\nhe answered, 'My mistress Budour is certainly handsomer than thy\nbeloved.'  'Thou liest, O accursed one!'  cried Maimouneh.  'Nay,\nmy beloved is more beautiful than thine!'  And they ceased not to\ngainsay each other, till Maimouneh cried out at Dehnesh and would\nhave laid violent hands on him; but he humbled himself to her and\nsoftening his speech, said to her, 'Let us leave talking, for we\ndo but contradict each other, and rather seek one who shall judge\nfairly between us, whether of the two is fairer, and let us abide\nby his sentence.'  'I agree to this,' answered she and smote the\nearth with her foot, whereupon there came up a one-eyed Afrit,\nhump-backed and scurvy, with eyes slit endlong in his face.  On\nhis head were seven horns and four locks of hair falling to his\nheels; his hands were like pitchforks, his legs like masts and he\nhad claws like a lion and hoofs like those of the wild ass.  When\nhe saw Maimouneh, he kissed the earth before her and standing\nwith his hands clasped behind him, said, 'What is thy will, O\nking's daughter?'  'O Keshkesh,' answered she, 'I would have thee\njudge between me and this accursed Dehnesh.'  And she made known\nto him the whole matter, whereupon he looked at the prince and\nprincess and saw them lying asleep, embraced, each with an arm\nabout the other's neck, alike in beauty and grace and equal in\ngoodliness.  The Marid gazed long and fixedly upon them,\nmarvelling at their beauty, and repeated the following verses:\n\nCleave fast to her thou lov'st and let the envious rail amain,\n     For calumny and envy ne'er to favour love were fain.\nLo, the Compassionate hath made no fairer thing to see Than when\n     one couch in its embrace enfoldeth lovers twain,\nEach to the other's bosom clasped, clad in their own delight,\n     Whilst hand with hand and arm with arm about their necks\n     enchain.\nIf in thy time thou find but one to love thee and be true, I rede\n     thee cast the world away and with that one remain.\nLo, when two hearts are straitly knit in passion and desire, But\n     on cold iron smite the folk that chide at them in vain.\nThou that for loving censures the votaries of love, Canst thou\n     assain a heart diseased or heal a cankered brain?\nO Lord, O Thou Compassionate, I prithee, ere we die, Though only\n     for a single day, unite us two again!\n\n\nThen he turned to Maimouneh and Dehnesh and said to them, 'By\nAllah, if you will have the truth, they are equal in beauty and\ngrace and perfection, nor is there any difference between them\nbut that of sex.  But I have another idea, and it is that we wake\neach of them in turn, without the other's knowledge, and\nwhichever is more enamoured of the other shall be held the lesser\nin beauty and grace.'  'This is a good counsel,' answered\nMaimouneh, and Dehnesh said, 'I consent to this.'  Then Dehnesh\nchanged himself to a flea and bit Kemerezzeman on the neck,\nwhereupon the prince awoke with a start and rubbed the place of\nthe bite, because of the smart.  Then turning sideways, he found\nlying by him something, whose breath was more fragrant than musk,\nand whose body was softer than cream.  At this he marvelled\ngreatly and sitting up, looked at this that lay beside him and\nsaw it to be a young lady like the moon, as she were a splendid\npearl, or a shining sun, five feet high, with a shape like the\nletter I, high-bosomed and rosy-checked; even as saith of her the\npoet:\n\nFour things there are, which ne'er unite, except it be To shed my\n     heart's best blood and take my soul by storm.\nAnd these are night-black locks and brow as bright as day, Cheeks\n     ruddy as the rose and straight and slender form.\n\nAnd also quoth another:\n\nShe shineth forth, a moon, and bends, a willow-wand, And\n     breathes, pure ambergris, and gazes, a gazelle.\nIt seems as if grief loved my heart and when from her\n     Estrangement I endure, possession to it fell.\n\nShe was clad in a shift of Venetian silk, without drawers, and\nwore on her head a kerchief embroidered with gold and jewels; her\nears were hung with earrings, that shone like stars, and round\nher neck was a collar of great pearls, past the competence of any\nking.  When he saw this, his reason was confounded and natural\nheat began to stir in him; God awoke in him the desire of coition\nand he said, 'What God wills, shall be, and what He will not,\nshall not be!'  So saying, he put out his hand and turning her\nover, loosed the collar of her shift, laying bare her bosom, with\nits breasts like globes of ivory; whereat his inclination for her\nredoubled and he desired her with an exceeding desire.  Then he\nshook her and moved her, essaying to waken her and saying, 'O my\nbeloved, awake and look on me; I am Kemerezzeman.'  But she awoke\nnot, neither moved her head, for Dehnesh made her sleep heavy.\nWith this, he considered awhile and said to himself, 'If I guess\naright, this is she to whom my father would have married me and I\nhave refused these three years past; but, God willing, as soon as\nit is day, I will say to him,  \"Marry me to her that I may enjoy\nher,\" nor will I let half the day pass ere I possess her and take\nmy fill of her beauty and grace.'  Then he bent over Budour, to\nkiss her, whereat Maimouneh trembled and was confounded and\nDehnesh was like to fly for joy.  But, as Kemerezzeman was about\nto kiss her, he was ashamed before God and turned away his head,\nsaying to his heart, 'Have patience.'  Then he considered awhile\nand said, 'I will be patient, lest my father have brought this\nyoung lady and made her lie by my side, to try me with her,\ncharging her not to be lightly awakened, whenas I would fain\narouse her, and bidding her tell him all that I do to her.\nBelike, he is hidden somewhere whence he can see all I do with\nthis young lady, himself unseen; and to-morrow he will flout me\nand say, \"How comes it that thou feignest to have no mind to\nmarry and yet didst kiss and clip yonder damsel?\" So I will\nforbear her, lest I be shamed before my father; and it were well\nthat I look not on her nor touch her at this present, except to\ntake from her somewhat to serve as a sign of remembrance and a\ntoken between us.'  Then he lifted her hand and took from her\nlittle finger a ring worth much money, for that its beazel was of\nprecious jewels and around it were graven the following verses:\n\nThink not that I have forgotten thy sometime promises, Though long\n     thou hast protracted thy cruelty, ywis.\nBe generous, O my master, vouchsafe me of thy grace, So it to me\n     be given thy lips and cheeks to kiss.\nNever, by Allah, never will I abandon thee, Though thou\n     transgress thy limits in love and go amiss!\n\n\nThen he put the ring on his own little finger, and turning his\nback to her, went to sleep.  When Maimouneh saw this, she was\nglad and said, 'Saw ye how my beloved Kemerezzeman forbore\nthis young lady?  Verily, this was of the perfection of his\nexcellences; for see how he looked on her and noted her beauty\nand grace, yet clipped her not neither kissed her nor put his\nhand to her, but turned his back to her and slept.'  'It is\nwell,' answered they; 'we saw how perfectly he bore himself.'\nThen Maimouneh changed herself into a flea and entering Budour's\nclothes, crept up her leg and bit her four finger-breadths below\nthe navel; whereupon she opened her eyes and sitting up in bed,\nsaw a youth lying beside her and breathing heavily in his sleep,\nthe loveliest of God's creatures, with eyes that put to shame\nthe fair maids of Paradise, mouth like Solomon's seal, whose\nwater was sweeter to the taste and more efficacious than\ntriacle,[FN#30] lips the colour of coral and cheeks like\nblood-red anemones, even as saith one, describing him:\n\nFrom Zeyneb[FN#31] and Newar[FN#32] my mind is drawn away By the\n     rose of a cheek, whereo'er a whisker's myrtles stray.\nI'm fallen in love with a fawn, a youngling tunic-clad, And joy\n     no more in love of bracelet-wearing may.\nMy mate in banquet-hall and closet's all unlike To her with whom\n     within my harem's close I play:\nO thou that blames me, because I flee from Hind[FN#33] And\n     Zeyneb, my excuse is clear as break of day.\nWould'st have me be a slave, the bondsman of a slave, One\n     cloistered and confined behind a wall alway?[FN#34]\n\nWhen the princess saw him, a transport of passion and longing\nseized her and she said to herself, 'Alas my shame!  This is a\nstrange youth and I know him not.  How comes he lying in one bed\nwith me?'  Then she looked at him again and noting his beauty and\ngrace, said, 'By Allah, he is a comely youth and my heart is\nwell-nigh torn in sunder with longing for him.  But alas, how am\nI shamed by him!  By Allah, had I known it was he who sought my\nhand of my father, I had not rejected him, but had married him\nand enjoyed his loveliness!'  Then she gazed in his face and\nsaid, 'O my lord and light of mine eyes, awake from sleep and\nenjoy my beauty and grace.'  And she moved him with her hand; but\nMaimouneh let down sleep upon him (as it were a curtain) and\npressed on his head with her wings, so that he awoke not.  The\nprincess went on to shake him and say, 'My life on thee, give ear\nunto me!  Awake and look on the narcissus and the tender green\nand enjoy my body and my secret charms and dally with me and\ntouzle me from now till break of day!  I conjure thee by Allah, O\nmy lord, sit up and lean against the pillow and sleep not!'\nStill he made her no answer, but breathed heavily in his sleep.\n'Alas!  Alas!'  continued she.  'Thou art proud in thy beauty and\ngrace and lovely looks!  But if thou art handsome, so am I; what\nthen is this thou dost?  Have they lessoned thee to flout me or\nhas the wretched old man, my father, made thee swear not to speak\nto me to-night?'  But he opened not his mouth neither awoke,\nwhereat her passion redoubled and God inflamed her heart with\nlove of him.  She stole one glance at him that cost her a\nthousand sighs: her heart fluttered and her entrails yearned and\nshe exclaimed, 'Speak to me, O my lord!  O my friend, my beloved,\nanswer me and tell me thy name, for indeed thou hast ravished my\nwit!'  Still he abode drowned in sleep and answered her not a\nword, and she sighed and said, 'Alas!  Alas!  why art thou so\nself-satisfied?'  Then she shook him and turning his hand over,\nsaw her ring on his little finger, whereat she cried out and\nsaid, with a sigh of passion, 'Alack!  Alack!  By Allah, thou art\nmy beloved and lovest me!  Yet meseems thou turnest away from me\nout of coquetry, for all thou camest to me whilst I was asleep\nand knew not what thou didst, and tookest my ring.  But I will\nnot pull it off thy finger.'  So saying, she opened the bosom of\nhis shirt and kissed him and put her hand to him, seeking\nsomewhat that she might take as a token, but found nothing.  Then\nshe put her hand into his breast, and for the smoothness of his\nbody, it slipped down to his navel and thence to his yard,\nwhereupon her heart ached and her entrails quivered and desire\nwas sore upon her, for that women's lust is fiercer than that of\nmen, and she was confounded.  Then she took his ring from his\nfinger and put it on her own and kissed his mouth and hands, nor\ndid she leave any part of him unkissed; after which she took him\nto her breast and laying one of her hands under his neck and the\nother under his armpit, fell asleep by his side.  Then said\nMaimouneh to Dehnesh, 'O accursed one, sawst thou how prudishly\nand coquettishly my beloved bore himself and what ardour of\npassion thy mistress showed to him?  There can be no doubt that\nmy beloved is handsomer than thine; nevertheless I pardon thee.'\nThen she wrote him a patent of manumission and said to Keshkesh,\n'Help Dehnesh to take up his mistress and carry her back to her\nown place, for the night wanes apace and there is but little left\nof it.'  'I hear and obey,' answered Keshkesh.  So the two\nAfrits lifted up the Princess Budour and flying away with her,\ncarried her back to her own place and laid her on her bed, whilst\nMaimouneh abode alone with Kemerezzeman, gazing upon him as he\nslept, till the night was all but spent, when she went her way.\n\nAt break of day, the prince awoke from sleep and turned right and\nleft, but found not the young lady by him and said in himself,\n'What is this?  It would seem as if my father would fain incline\nme to marriage with the young lady, that was with me, and have\nnow taken her away by stealth, to the intent that my desire for\nmarriage may redouble.'  Then he called out to the eunuch who\nslept at the door, saying, 'Out on thee, O accursed one, arise\nforthright!'  So the eunuch arose, dazed with sleep, and\nbrought him basin and ewer, whereupon Kemerezzeman entered the\ndraught-house and did his need; then, coming out, made his\nablutions and prayed the morning-prayer, after which he sat\ntelling his beads.  Then he looked up, and seeing the eunuch\nstanding waiting upon him, said to him, 'Out on thee, O Sewab!\nWho was it came hither and took away the young lady from beside\nme, whilst I slept?'  'O my lord, what young lady?'  asked the\neunuch.  'She that lay with me last night,' replied Kemerezzeman.\nThe eunuch was troubled at his words and said to him, 'By Allah,\nthere has been with thee neither young lady nor other!  How\nshould she have come in to thee, when the door was locked and I\nasleep before it?  By Allah, O my lord, neither man nor woman has\ncome in to thee!'  'Thou liest, O pestilent slave!'  exclaimed\nthe prince.  'Dost thou also presume to hoodwink me and wilt thou\nnot tell me what is come of the young lady who lay with me last\nnight and who took her away?'  The eunuch was affrighted at him\nand answered, 'By Allah, O my lord, I have seen neither girl nor\nboy!'  His words only angered Kemerezzeman and he said to him, 'O\naccursed one, my father hath taught thee deceit!  Come hither.'\nSo the eunuch came up to him, and the prince seized him by the\ncollar and threw him to the ground.  He let fly a crack of wind,\nand Kemerezzeman, kneeling upon him, kicked him and throttled\nhim, till he fainted away.  Then he tied him to the well-rope,\nand lowering him into the well, plunged him into the water, then\ndrew him up and plunged him in again.  Now it was hard winter\nweather, and Kemerezzeman ceased not to lower the eunuch into the\nwater and pull him up again, whilst he screamed and called for\nhelp.  Quoth the prince, 'By Allah, O accursed one, I will not\ndraw thee up out of the well, till thou tell me the story of the\nyoung lady and who it was took her away, whilst I slept.'  'O my\nlord,' answered the eunuch, seeing death staring him in the face,\n'let me go and I will tell thee the truth.'  So Kemerezzeman\npulled him up out of the well, all but dead for cold and wet and\ntorture and beating and fear of drowning.  His teeth chattered\nand he shook like the reed in the hurricane and his clothes were\ndrenched and his body befouled and torn by the rough slimy sides\nof the well.  When Kemerezzeman saw him in this sorry plight, he\nrelented towards him; and as soon as the eunuch found himself on\ndry land, he said to him, 'O my lord, let me go and put off my\nclothes and wring them out and spread them in the sun to dry and\ndon others; after which I will return to thee forthwith and tell\nthee the truth of the matter.'  'O wretched slave,' answered the\nprince, 'hadst thou not seen death face to face, thou hadst never\nconfessed; but go now and do thy will, and after return speedily\nand tell me the truth.'  So the eunuch went out, hardly crediting\nhis escape, and gave not over running and stumbling, in his\nhaste, till he came in to King Shehriman, whom he found sitting\ntalking with his Vizier of Kemerezzeman's case and saying, 'I\nslept not last night, for anxiety concerning my son Kemerezzeman,\nand indeed I fear lest some harm befall him in that old tower.\nWhat good was there in imprisoning him?'  'Have no care for him,'\nanswered the Vizier.  'By Allah, no hurt will befall him!  Leave\nhim in prison for a month, till his humour yield and his spirit\nbe broken and he return to his senses.'  As he spoke, in came the\neunuch, in the aforesaid plight, and said to the King, who was\ntroubled at sight of him, 'O our lord the Sultan, thy son's wits\nare fled and he has gone mad; he has dealt with me thus and thus,\nso that I am become as thou seest, and says, \"A young lady lay\nwith me this night and stole away whilst I slept.  Where is she?\"\nAnd insists on my telling him where she is and who took her away.\nBut I have seen neither girl nor boy; the door was locked all\nnight, for I slept before it, with the key under my head, and\nopened to him in the morning with my own hand.'  When the King\nheard this, he cried out, saying, 'Alas, my son!'  And he was\nsore enraged against the Vizier, who had been the cause of all\nthis, and said to him, 'Go, bring me news of my son and see what\nhath befallen his wit.'  So the Vizier rose and hastened with the\nslave to the tower, tumbling over his skirts, in his fear of the\nKing's anger.  The sun had now risen and when he came in to\nKemerezzeman, he found him sitting on the couch, reading the\nKoran; so he saluted him and sitting down by his side, said to\nhim, 'O my lord, this wretched slave brought us news that\ndisquieted and alarmed us and incensed the King.'  'And what,'\nasked Kemerezzeman, 'hath he told you of me, to trouble my\nfather?  In good sooth, he hath troubled none but me.'  'He came\nto us in a sorry plight,' answered the Vizier, 'and told us of\nthee a thing which God forfend and a lie which it befits not to\nrepeat, may God preserve thy youth and sound wit and eloquent\ntongue and forbid aught of foul to come from thee!'  'O Vizier,'\nsaid the prince, 'what did this pestilent slave say of me?'  'He\ntold us,' replied the Vizier, 'thou hadst taken leave of thy wits\nand would have it that a young lady lay with thee last night and\nwast instant with him to tell thee whither she had gone and didst\ntorture him to that end.'  When Kemerezzeman heard this, he was\nsore enraged and said to the Vizier, 'It is manifest to me that\nyou taught the eunuch to do as he did and forbade him to tell me\nwhat became of the young lady.  But thou, O Vizier, art more\nreasonable than the eunuch; so do thou tell me forthright whither\nwent the young lady that lay in my bosom last night; for it was\nyou who sent her and bade her sleep in my arms, and we lay\ntogether till day; but when I awoke, I found her not.  So where\nis she now?'  'O my lord Kemerezzeman,' said the Vizier, 'the\nname of God encompass thee!  By Allah, we sent none to thee last\nnight, but thou layest alone, with the door locked on thee and\nthe eunuch sleeping before it, nor did there come to thee a\nyoung lady or any other.  Stablish thy reason, O my lord, and\nreturn to thy senses and occupy thy mind no longer [with vain\nimaginations].'  'O Vizier,' rejoined Kemerezzeman, incensed at\nhis words, 'the young lady in question is my beloved, the fair\none with the black eyes and red cheeks, whom I held in my arms\nall last night.'  The Vizier wondered at his words and said to\nhim, 'Didst thou see this damsel with thine eyes and on wake,\nor in sleep?'  'O wretched old man,' answered Kemerezzeman,\n'thinkest thou I saw her with my ears?  Indeed, I saw her with my\nvery eyes and on wake and touched her with my hand and watched by\nher half the night, gazing my fill on her beauty and grace and\nelegance and lovely looks.  But thou hadst schooled her and\ncharged her to speak no word to me; so she feigned sleep and I\nlay by her side till morning, when I awoke and found her gone.'\n'O my lord Kemerezzeman,' rejoined the Vizier, 'surely thou\nsawest this in thy sleep; it must have been a delusion of dreams\nor a hallucination caused by eating various kinds of food or a\nsuggestion of the accursed devils.'  'O pestilent old man,' cried\nthe prince, 'wilt thou too make a mock of me and tell me this was\nan illusion of dreams, when this eunuch confessed to the young\nlady, saying, \"I will return to thee forthwith and tell thee all\nabout her?\"' So saying, he sprang up and laying hold of the\nVizier's long beard, twisted his hand in it and tugging him off\nthe couch, threw him on the floor.  It seemed to the Vizier as\nthough his soul departed his body for the violent plucking at his\nbeard, and Kemerezzeman fell to kicking him and pummelling his\nbreast and sides and cuffing him on the nape, till he had\nwell-nigh made an end of him.  Then said the Vizier in himself,\n'I must save myself from this madman by telling him a lie, even\nas did the eunuch; else he will kill me, for he is mad beyond a\ndoubt.'  So he said to Kemerezzeman, 'O my lord, bear me not\nmalice, for indeed thy father charged me to conceal from thee\nthis affair of the young lady; but now I am weak and weary and\nsore with beating; for I am an old man and lack strength to\nendure blows.  So have a little patience with me and I will tell\nthee all.'  When the prince heard this, he left beating him\nand said, 'Why couldst thou not tell me without blows and\nhumiliation?  Rise now, unlucky old man that thou art, and tell\nme her story.'  Quoth the Vizier, 'Dost thou ask of the young\nlady with the fair face and perfect shape?'  'Yes,' answered\nKemerezzeman.  'Tell me who it was laid her by my side and took\nher away by night, and let me know whither she is gone, that I\nmay go to her.  If my father did this to try me, with a view to\nour marriage, I consent to marry her and be quit of this trouble;\nfor he only dealt thus with me, because I refused to marry.  I\nsay again, I consent to marry: so tell this to my father, O\nVizier, and advise him to marry me to her, for I will have none\nother and my heart loveth her alone.  Go now to my father and\ncounsel him to hasten our marriage and bring me his answer\nforthright.'  'It is well,' rejoined the Vizier, and went out\nfrom him, hardly crediting his escape.  Then he set off running\nand stumbling as he went, for excess of affright and agitation,\ntill he came in to the King, who said to him, 'O Vizier, what has\nbefallen thee and who has maltreated thee and how comes it that I\nsee thee thus confounded and terrified?'  'O King,' answered the\nVizier, 'I bring thee news.'  'What is it?'  asked Shehriman, and\nthe Vizier said, 'Know that thy son Kemerezzeman's wits are gone\nand that madness hath betided him.'  When the King heard this,\nthe light in his face became darkness and he said, 'Expound to me\nthe nature of my son's madness.'  'O my lord,' answered the\nVizier, 'I hear and obey.'  Then he told him all that had passed\nand the King said to him, 'O most ill-omened of Viziers and\nfilthiest of Amirs, know that the reward I will give thee in\nreturn for this thy news of my son's madness shall be the cutting\noff of thy bead and the forfeiture of thy goods; for thou hast\ncaused my son's disorder by the wicked and sinister counsel thou\nhast given me first and last.  By Allah, if aught of mischief or\nmadness have befallen him, I will nail thee upon the dome [of the\npalace] and make thee taste the bitterness of death!'  Then\nrising, he betook himself with the Vizier to the tower, and when\nKemerezzeman saw him, he came down to him in haste from the couch\non which he sat and kissing his hands, drew back and stood before\nhim awhile, with his eyes cast down and his hands clasped behind\nhim.  Then he raised his head and repeated the following verses,\nwhilst the tears streamed down his cheeks:\n\n\nIf I have borne myself blameworthily to you Or if I've made\n     default in that which is your due,\nI do repent my fault; so let your clemency Th' offender\n     comprehend, who doth for pardon sue.\n\nWhen the King heard this, he embraced his son and kissing him\nbetween the eyes, made him sit by his side on the couch; then\nturned to the Vizier and looking on him with angry eyes, said to\nhim, 'O dog of a Vizier, why didst thou tell me that my son was\nmad and make my heart quake for him?'  Then he turned to the\nprince and said to him, 'O my son, what is to-day called?'  'O my\nfather,' answered he, 'to-day is Saturday and to-morrow Sunday:\nthen come Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday and Friday.'  'O\nmy son, O Kemerezzeman,' exclaimed the King, 'praised be God for\nthe preservation of thy reason!  What is this present month\ncalled in Arabic?'\n\n'Dhoulcaadeh,' answered Kemerezzeman, 'and it is followed by\nDhoulhejjeh; then comes Muherrem, then Sefer, then Rebia the\nFirst and Rebia the Second, the two Jumadas, Rejeb, Shaaban,\nRamazan and Shewwal.'  At this the King rejoiced exceedingly and\nspat in the Vizier's face, saying, 'O wicked old man, how canst\nthou pretend that my son is mad?  None is mad but thou.'  The\nVizier shook his head and would have spoken, but bethought\nhimself to wait awhile and see what befell.  Then the King said\nto Kemerezzeman, 'O my son, what is this thou sayest to the\neunuch and the Vizier of a fair damsel that lay with thee last\nnight?  What damsel is this of whom thou speakest?'  Kemerezzeman\nlaughed at his father's words and replied, 'O my father, I can\nbear no more jesting; so mock me not with another word, for my\nhumour is soured by that you have done with me.  Let it suffice\nthee to know that I consent to marry, but on condition that thou\ngive me to wife her with whom I lay yesternight; for I am assured\nthat it was thou sentest her to me and madest me in love with\nher, then tookest her away from beside me before the dawn.'  'O\nmy son,' rejoined the King, 'the name of God encompass thee and\npreserve thy wit from madness!  What young lady is this of whom\nthou talkest?  By Allah, O my son, I know nothing of the affair,\nand I conjure thee, tell me if it be a delusion of sleep or a\nhallucination caused by food?  Doubtless, thou layest down to\nsleep last night, with thy mind occupied with marriage and\ntroubled with the thought of it (may God curse marriage and the\nhour in which it occurred to me and him who counselled it!) and\ndreamtest that a handsome young lady embraced thee and didst\nfancy thou sawst her on wake; but all this, O my son, is but an\nillusion of dreams.'  'Leave this talk,' replied Kemerezzeman,\n'and swear to me by God, the All-wise Creator, the Humbler of the\nmighty and the Destroyer of the Chosro\u00ebs, that thou knowest\nnothing of the young lady nor of her abiding-place.'  'By the\nvirtue of the Most High God,' said the King, 'the God of Moses\nand Abraham, I know nothing of all this and it is assuredly but\nan illusion of dreams that thou hast seen in sleep.'  Quoth the\nprince, 'I will give thee a proof that it was not a dream.  Come,\nlet me put a case to thee: did it ever happen to any to dream\nthat he was fighting a sore battle and after to awake and find in\nhis hand a sword besmeared with blood?'  'No, by Allah, O my\nson,' answered the King, 'this hath never been.'  'I will tell\nthee what happened to me,' rejoined Kemerezzeman.  'Meseemed I\nawoke from sleep in the middle of the past night and found a\nyoung lady lying by my side, whose shape and favour were as mine.\nI embraced her and turned her about with my hand and took her\nring, which I put on my finger, and she pulled off my ring and\nput it on her finger.  Then I went to sleep by her side, but\nrefrained from her and was ashamed to kiss her on the mouth,\ndeeming that thou hadst sent her to me, with intent to tempt me\nwith her and incline me to marriage, and misdoubting thee to be\nhidden somewhere whence thou couldst see what I did with her.  At\npoint of day, I awoke and found no trace of her, nor could I come\nat any news of her, and there befell me what thou knowest of with\nthe eunuch and the Vizier.  How then can this have been a dream\nand a delusion, seeing that the ring is a reality?  I should\nindeed have deemed it a dream but for her ring on my finger.\nHere it is: look at it, O King, and see what is its worth.'  So\nsaying, he handed the ring to his father, who examined it and\nturned it over, then said to his son, 'Verily, there hangs some\nmighty mystery by this ring and some strange secret.  What befell\nthee last night is indeed a mysterious affair and I know not how\nthis intruder came in upon us.  None is the cause of all this\ntrouble save the Vizier; but I conjure thee, O my son, to take\npatience, so haply God may do away this affliction from thee and\nbring thee complete relief: as quoth one of the poets:\n\nIt may be Fate at last shall draw its bridle-rein And bring us\n     happy chance; for Fortune changes still;\nAnd things shall happen yet, despite the things fordone, To\n     further forth my hopes and bring me to my will.\n\nAnd now, O my son,' added he, 'I am certified that thou art not\nmad; but thy case is a strange one, none can unravel it for thee\nbut God the Most High.'  'By Allah, O my father,' cried the\nprince, 'deal kindly with me and seek out this damsel and hasten\nher coming to me; else I shall die of grief.'  And he repeated\nthe following verses, in a voice that betrayed the ardour of his\npassion:\n\nAn if thy very promise of union prove untrue, Let but in sleep\n     thy favours the longing lover cheer.\n\"How can the phantom visit a lover's eyes,\" quoth they, \"From\n     which the grace of slumber is banned and banished sheer?\"\n\nAnd he sighed and wept and groaned aloud from a wounded heart,\nwhilst the tears streamed from his eyes.  Then turning to his\nfather, with submission and despondency, he said to him, 'By\nAllah, O my father, I cannot endure to be parted from her even\nfor an hour.'  The King smote hand upon hand and exclaimed,\n'There is no power and no virtue but in God, the Most High, the\nSublime!  There is no device can profit us in this affair!'  Then\nhe took his son by the hand and carried him to the palace, where\nKemerezzeman lay down on the bed of languor and the King sat at\nhis head, weeping and mourning over him and leaving him not night\nor day, till at last the Vizier came in to him and said, 'O King\nof the age and the time, how long wilt thou remain shut up with\nthy son and deny thyself to thy troops?  Verily, the order of thy\nrealm is like to be deranged, by reason of thine absence from\nthy grandees and officers of state.  It behoves the man of\nunderstanding, if he have various wounds in his body, to apply\nhim (first) to heal the most dangerous; so it is my counsel to\nthee that thou transport the prince to the pavilion overlooking\nthe sea and shut thyself up with him there, setting apart\nMonday and Thursday in every week for state receptions and the\ntransaction of public business.  On these days let thine Amirs\nand Viziers and Chamberlains and deputies and captains and\ngrandees and the rest of the troops and subjects have access to\nthee and submit their affairs to thee, and do thou their needs\nand judge between them and give and take with them and command\nand forbid.  The rest of the week thou shalt pass with thy son\nKemerezzeman, and thus do till God vouchsafe you both relief.\nThink not, O King, that thou art exempt from the shifts of\nfortune and the strokes of calamity; for the wise man is still on\nhis guard, as well saith the poet:\n\nThou madest fair thy thought of Fate, whenas the days were fair,\n     And fearedst not the unknown ills that they to thee might\n     bring.\nThe nights were fair and calm to thee; thou wast deceived by\n     them, For in the peace of night is born full many a\n     troublous thing.\nO all ye children of mankind, to whom the Fates are kind, Let\n     caution ever have a part in all your reckoning.'\n\nThe King was struck with the Vizier's words and deemed his\ncounsel wise and timely, fearing lest the order of the state be\nderanged; so he rose at once and bade carry his son to the\npavilion in question, which was built (upon a rock) midmost the\nwater and was approached by a causeway, twenty cubits wide.  It\nhad windows on all sides, overlooking the sea; its floor was of\nvariegated marble and its roof was painted in the richest colours\nand decorated with gold and lapis-lazuli.  They furnished it for\nKemerezzeman with embroidered rugs and carpets of the richest\nsilk and hung the walls with choice brocades and curtains\nbespangled with jewels.  In the midst they set him a couch of\njuniper-wood, inlaid with pearls and jewels, and he sat down\nthereon, like a man that had been sick twenty years; for the\nexcess of his concern and passion for the young lady had wasted\nhis charms and emaciated his body, and he could neither eat nor\ndrink nor sleep.  His father seated himself at his head, mourning\nsore for him, and every Monday and Thursday he gave his Viziers\nand Amirs and grandees and officers and the rest of his subjects\nleave to come in to him in the pavilion.  So they entered and did\ntheir several service and abode with him till the end of the day,\nwhen they went their ways and he returned to his son, whom he\nleft not night nor day; and on this wise did he many days and\nnights.\n\nTo return to the Princess Budour.  When the two Afrits carried\nher back to her palace and laid her on her bed, she slept on till\ndaybreak, when she awoke and sitting up, looked right and left,\nbut saw not the youth who had lain in her bosom.  At this, her\nheart was troubled, her reason fled and she gave a great cry,\nwhereupon all her damsels and nurses and serving-women awoke and\ncame in to her; and the chief of them said to her, 'What ails\nthee, O my lady?'  'O wretched old woman,' answered the princess,\n'where is my beloved, the handsome youth that lay last night in\nmy bosom?  Tell me where he is gone.'  When the old woman heard\nthis, the light in her eyes became darkness and she was sore in\nfear of her mischief and said to her, 'O my lady Budour, what\nunseemly words are these?'  'Out on thee, pestilent crone that\nthou art!'  cried the princess.  'Where is my beloved, the goodly\nyouth with the shining face and the slender shape, the black eyes\nand the joined eyebrows, who lay with me last night from dusk\nuntil near daybreak?'  'By Allah, O my lady,' replied the old\nwoman, 'I have seen no young man nor any other; but I conjure\nthee, leave this unseemly jesting, lest we be all undone.\nBelike, it may come to thy father's ears and who shall deliver us\nfrom his hand?'  'I tell thee,' rejoined Budour, 'there lay a\nyouth with me last night, one of the fairest-faced of men.'  'God\npreserve thy reason!'  exclaimed the nurse.  'Indeed, no one lay\nwith thee last night.'  The princess looked at her hand and\nseeing her own ring gone and Kemerezzeman's ring on her finger in\nits stead, said to the nurse, 'Out on thee, thou accursed\ntraitress, wilt thou lie to me and tell me that none lay with me\nlast night and forswear thyself to me?'  'By Allah,' replied the\nnurse, 'I do not lie to thee nor have I sworn falsely!'  Her\nwords incensed the princess and drawing a sword she had by her,\nshe smote the old woman with it and slew her; whereupon the\neunuch and the waiting-women cried out at her and running to her\nfather, acquainted him with her case.  So he went to her\nforthright and said to her, 'O my daughter, what ails thee?'  'O\nmy father,' answered she, 'where is the young man that lay with\nme last night?'  Then her reason left her and she cast her eyes\nright and left and rent her dress even to the skirt.  When the\nKing saw this, he bade the women lay hands on her; so they seized\nand bound her, then putting a chain of iron about her neck, made\nher fast to the window and there left her.  As for her father,\nthe world was straitened upon him, when he saw what had befallen\nher, for that he loved her and her case was not a little thing to\nhim.  So he summoned the doctors and astrologers and magicians\nand said to them, 'Whoso cureth my daughter of her disorder, I\nwill marry him to her and give him half my kingdom; but whoso\ncometh to her and cureth her not, I will strike off his head and\nhang it over her palace-gate.'  Accordingly, all who went in to\nher, but failed to cure her, he beheaded and hung their heads\nover her palace-gate, till he had beheaded forty physicians and\ncrucified as many astrologers on her account; wherefore all the\nfolk held aloof from her, for all the physicians failed to cure\nher malady and her case was a puzzle to the men of science and\nthe magicians.  And as her longing and passion redoubled and love\nand distraction were sore upon her, she poured forth tears and\nrepeated the following verses:\n\nMy longing after thee, my moon, my foeman is; The thought of thee\n     by night doth comrade with me dwell.\nI pass the darksome hours, and in my bosom flames A fire, for\n     heat that's like the very fire of hell.\nI'm smitten with excess of ardour and desire; By which my pain is\n     grown an anguish fierce and fell.\n\nThen she sighed and repeated these also:\n\nMy peace on the belov\u00e9d ones, where'er they light them down! I\n     weary for the neighbourhood of those I love, full sore.\nMy salutation unto you,--not that of taking leave, But greetings\n     of abundant peace, increasing evermore!\nFor, of a truth, I love you dear and love your land no less; But\n     woe is me!  I'm far away from that I weary for.\n\n\nThen she wept till her eyes grew weak and her cheeks pale and\nwithered: and thus she abode three years.  Now she had a\nfoster-brother, by name Merzewan, who was absent from her all\nthis time, travelling in far countries.  He loved her with an\nexceeding love, passing that of brothers; so when he came back,\nhe went in to his mother and asked for his foster-sister the\nprincess Budour.  'Alas, my son,' answered she, 'thy sister has\nbeen smitten with madness and has passed these three years, with\nan iron chain about her neck; and all the physicians and men of\nscience have failed of curing her.'  When he heard this, he said,\n'I must needs go in to her; peradventure I may discover what ails\nher, and be able to cure her.'  'So be it,' replied his mother;\n'but wait till to-morrow, that I may make shift for thee.'  Then\nshe went to the princess's palace and accosting the eunuch in\ncharge of the door, made him a present and said to him, 'I have a\nmarried daughter, who was brought up with thy mistress and is\nsore concerned for what has befallen her, and I desire of thy\nfavour that my daughter may go in to her and look on her awhile,\nthen return whence she came, and none shall know it.'  'This may\nnot be, except by night,' replied the eunuch, 'after the King has\nvisited the princess and gone away; then come thou and thy\ndaughter.'  She kissed the eunuch's hand and returning home,\nwaited till the morrow at nightfall, when she dressed her son in\nwoman's apparel and taking him by the hand, carried him to the\npalace.  When the eunuch saw her, he said, 'Enter, but do not\ntarry long.'  So they went in and when Merzewan saw the princess\nin the aforesaid plight, he saluted her, after his mother had\ntaken off his woman's attire: then pulling out the books he had\nbrought with him and lighting a candle, he began to recite\ncertain conjurations.  The princess looked at him and knowing\nhim, said to him, 'O my brother, thou hast been absent on thy\ntravels and we have been cut off from news of thee.'  'True,'\nanswered he; 'but God has brought me back in safety and I am now\nminded to set out again; nor has aught delayed me but the sad\nnews I hear of thee; wherefore my heart ached for thee and I came\nto thee, so haply I may rid thee of thy malady.'  'O my brother,'\nrejoined she, 'thinkest thou it is madness ails me?'  'Yes,'\nanswered he, and she said, 'Not so, by Allah!  It is even as says\nthe poet:\n\nQuoth they, \"Thou'rt surely mad for him thou lov'st;\" and I\n     replied, \"Indeed the sweets of life belong unto the raving\n     race.\nLo, those who love have not, for that, the upper hand of fate;\n     Only the madman 'tis, I trow, o'ercometh time and space.\nYes, I am mad; so bring me him for whom ye say I'm mad; And if he\n     heal my madness, spare to blame me for my case.\"'\n\nThen she told him that she was in love, and he said, 'Tell me thy\nstory and what befell thee: peradventure God may discover to me a\nmeans of deliverance for thee.' 'Know then,' said she, 'that one\nnight I awoke from sleep, in the last watch of the night, and\nsitting up, saw by my side the handsomest of youths, as he were a\nwillow-wand or an Indian cane, the tongue fails to describe him.\nMe-thought this was my father's doing to try me, for that he had\nconsulted me, when the kings sought me of him in marriage, and I\nhad refused.  It was this idea that withheld me from arousing\nhim, for I thought that if I did aught or embraced him, he would\nmost like tell my father.  When I awoke in the morning, I found\nhis ring on my finger in place of my own, which he had taken;\nand, O my brother, my heart was taken with him at first sight;\nand for the violence of my passion and longing, I have never\nsince known the taste of sleep and have no occupation save\nweeping and repeating verses night and day.  This, then, O my\nbrother, is the story of the cause of my (pretended) madness.'\nThen she poured forth tears and repeated the following verses:\n\nLove has banished afar my delight; they are fled With a fawn that\n     hath hearts for a pasturing-stead.\nTo him lovers' blood is a trifle, for whom My soul is a-wasting\n     for passion and dread.\nI'm jealous for him of my sight and my thought; My heart is a spy\n     on my eyes and my head.\nHis eyelashes dart at us death-dealing shafts; The hearts that\n     they light on are ruined and dead.\nWhilst yet there is left me a share in the world, Shall I see\n     him, I wonder, or ever I'm sped?\nI fain would conceal what I suffer for him; 'Tis shown to the spy\n     by the tears that I shed.\nWhen near, his enjoyment is distant from me: But his image is\n     near, when afar he doth tread.\n\n\n'See then, O my brother,' added she, 'how thou mayest aid me in\nthis my affliction.'  Merzewan bowed his head awhile, marvelling\nand knowing not what to do, then raised it and said to her, 'I\nbelieve all thou hast said to be true, though the case of the\nyoung man passes my imagination: but I will go round about all\ncountries and seek for what may heal thee; peradventure God shall\nappoint thy deliverance to be at my hand.  Meanwhile, take\npatience and be not disquieted.'  So saying, he took leave of\nher, after he had prayed that she might be vouchsafed constancy,\nand left her repeating the following verses:\n\nThine image in my thoughts fares as a pilgrim aye, For all thy\n     stead and mine are distant many a day.\nThe wishes of my heart do bring thee near to me For 'gainst the\n     speed of thought what is the levin's ray?\nDepart thou not, that art the lustre of mine eyes; Yea, when\n     thou'rt far removed, all void of light are they.\n\nHe returned to his mother's house, where he passed the night, and\non the morrow, after furnishing himself for his journey, he set\nout and travelled from city to city and from island to island for\na whole month.  Everywhere he heard talk of the princess Budour's\nmadness, till he came to a city named Teyreb and seeking news of\nthe townsfolk, so haply he might light on a cure for his\nfoster-sister's malady, heard that Kemerezzeman, son of King\nShehriman, was fallen sick and afflicted with melancholy madness.\nHe enquired the name of this prince's capital and was told that\nit stood on the Islands of Khalidan and was distant thence a\nwhole month's journey by sea and six by land.  So he took passage\nin a ship that was bound thither, and they sailed with a\nfavouring breeze for a whole month, till they came in sight of\nthe city and there remained for them but to enter the harbour;\nwhen there came out on them a tempestuous wind which carried away\nthe masts and rent the canvas, so that the sails fell into the\nsea and the ship foundered, with all on board.  Each looked to\nhimself, and as for Merzewan, the current carried him under the\nKing's palace, wherein was Kemerezzeman.  As fate would have it,\nit was the day on which the King gave audience to his grandees\nand officers, and he was sitting, with his son's head in his lap,\nwhilst an eunuch whisked away the flies.  The prince had not\nspoken, neither had he eaten nor drunk for two days, and he was\ngrown thinner than a spindle.  Now the Vizier was standing near\nthe window giving on the sea and raising his eyes, saw Merzewan\nat the last gasp for struggling with the waves; whereupon his\nheart was moved to pity for him and he drew near to the King and\nsaid to him, 'O King, I crave thy leave to go down to the court\nof the pavilion and open the water-gate, that I may rescue a man\nwho is at the point of drowning in the sea and bring him forth of\nperil into deliverance; peradventure, on this account, God may\nease thy son of his affliction.'  'O Vizier,' replied Shehriman,\nenough is that which has befallen my son through thee and on\nthine account.  Belike, if thou rescue this drowning man, he will\nlook on my son and come to know our affairs and exult over me;\nbut I swear by Allah, that, if he come hither and see my son and\nafter go out and speak of our secrets to any, I will assuredly\nstrike off thy head before his; for thou art the cause of all\nthat hath befallen us, first and last.  Now do as thou wilt.'\nThe Vizier rose and opening the postern, descended to the\ncauseway; then walked on twenty steps and came to the sea, where\nhe saw Merzewan nigh unto death.  So he put out his hand to him\nand catching him by the hair of his head, drew him ashore, in a\nstate of unconsciousness, with belly full of water and eyes\nstarting from his head.  The Vizier waited till he came to\nhimself, when he pulled off his wet clothes and clad him in a\nfresh suit, covering his head with one of his servants' turbans;\nafter which he said to him, 'I have been the means of saving thee\nfrom drowning: do not thou requite me by causing my death and\nthine own.'  'How so?' asked Merzewan; and the Vizier answered,\n'Thou art now about to go up and pass among Amirs and Viziers,\nall silent and speaking not, because of Kemerezzeman, the King's\nson.'  When Merzewan heard the name of Kemerezzeman, he knew that\nthis was he of whom he came in search, but he feigned ignorance\nand said to the Vizier, 'And who is Kemerezzeman?'  Quoth the\nVizier, 'He is the King's son and lies sick on his couch,\nrestless, eating not nor drinking neither sleeping night nor day;\nindeed he is nigh upon death and we have lost hope of his\nrecovery.  Beware lest thou look too long on him or on any place\nother than that where thou settest thy feet: else thou art a lost\nman and I also.'  'O Vizier,' said Merzewan, 'I conjure thee by\nAllah, tell me of thy favour, the cause of this youth's malady.'\n'I know none,' answered the Vizier, 'save that, three years ago,\nhis father pressed him to marry, but he refused; whereat the King\nwas wroth and imprisoned him.  On the morrow, he would have it\nthat he had had, for a bedfellow, the night before, a young lady\nof surpassing beauty, beggaring description, with whom he had\nexchanged rings; but we know not the meaning of all this.  So by\nAllah, O my son, when thou comest up into the palace, look not on\nthe prince, but go thy way; for the King's heart is full of anger\nagainst me.'  'By Allah,' said Merzewan in himself, 'this is he\nwhom I sought!'  Then he followed the Vizier up to the palace,\nwhere the latter seated himself at the prince's feet; but\nMerzewan must needs go up to Kemerezzeman and stand before him,\ngazing on him.  At this, the Vizier was like to die of affright\nand signed to Merzewan to go his way; but he feigned not to see\nhim and gave not over gazing upon Kemerezzeman, till he was\nassured that it was indeed he of whom he was in search. Then,\n'Glory be to God,' cried he, 'who hath made his shape even as her\nshape and his complexion as her complexion and his cheek as her\ncheek!'  At this Kemerezzeman opened his eyes and gave ear to his\nspeech; and when Merzewan saw him listening, he repeated the\nfollowing verses:\n\nI see thee full of song and plaint and ecstasy amain, And to the\n     setting forth in words of charms I find thee fain.\nCan it be love hath wounded thee or art thou shot with shafts?\n     For sure these fashions but belong unto a smitten swain.\nHo, pour me out full cups of wine and sing me eke, in praise Of\n     Tenam, Suleyma, Reb\u00e4b,[FN#35] a glad and lovesome strain!\nYea, let the grape-vine's sun[FN#36] go round, whose mansion is\n     its jar, Whose East the cupbearer and West my thirsty mouth\n     I feign.\nI'm jealous of the very clothes she dights upon her side, For\n     that upon her body soft and delicate they've lain;\nAnd eke I'm envious of the cups that touch her dainty lips, When\n     to the kissing-place she sets them ever and again.\nThink not that I in anywise with sword am done to death; 'Tis by\n     the arrows of a glance, alack!  that I am slain.\nWhenas we met again, I found her fingers dyed with red, As 'twere\n     the juice of tragacanth had steeped them in its stain.\nSaid I to her, \"Thou'st dyed thy palms,[FN#37] whilst I was far\n     away. This then is how the slave of love is 'quited for his\n     pain.\"\nQuoth she (and cast into my heart the flaming fires of love,\n     Speaking as one who hath no care love's secret to contain),\n\"No, by thy life, this is no dye I've used!  So haste thou not To\n     heap accusings on my head and slander me in vain.\nFor, when I saw thee get thee gone upon our parting day, My eyes,\n     for very dreariment, with tears of blood did rain.\nI wiped them with my hand, and so my fingers with my blood Were\n     all to-reddened and do yet their ruddy tint retain.\"\nHad I for very passion wept, or e'er my mistress did, I should,\n     before repentance came, have solaced heart and brain;\nBut she before my weeping wept; her tears drew mine and so Quoth\n     I, \"Unto the precedent the merit doth pertain.\"\nChide not at me for loving her, for by Love's self I swear, My\n     heart with anguish for her sake is well-nigh cleft in twain.\nI weep for one whose face is decked by Beauty's self; there's\n     none, Arab or foreigner, to match with her, in hill or\n     plain.\nThe lore of Locman[FN#38] hath my love and Mary's chastity, with\n     Joseph's loveliness to boot and David's songful vein;\nWhilst Jacob's grief to me belongs and Jonah's dreariment, Ay,\n     and Job's torment and despite and Adam's plight of bane.\nSlay ye her not, although I die for love of her, but ask, How\n     came it lawful unto her to shed my blood in vain.\n\nWhen Kemerezzeman heard these verses, they brought refreshment\nand healing to his heart, and he sighed and turning his tongue in\nhis mouth, said to the King, 'O my father, let this young man\ncome and sit by my side.'  The King, hearing these words from his\nson, rejoiced exceedingly, though at the first he had been wroth\nwith Merzewan and thought in himself to have stricken off his\nhead: but when he heard Kemerezzeman speak, his anger left him\nand he arose and drawing Merzewan to him, made him sit down by\nhis son and said to him, 'Praised be God for thy safety!'  'May\nGod bless thee,' answered Merzewan, 'and preserve thy son to\nthee!'  Then said the King, 'From what country comest thou?'\n'From the Islands of the Inland Sea,' replied he, 'the kingdom of\nKing Gha\u00efour, lord of the Islands and the seas and the Seven\nPalaces.'  Quoth the King, 'Maybe thy coming shall be blessed to\nmy son and God vouchsafe to heal him of his malady.'  'God\nwilling,' rejoined Merzewan, 'all shall yet be well.'  Then\nturning to Kemerezzeman, he said to him in his ear, unheard of\nthe King and his court, 'Be of good cheer, O my lord, and take\nheart and courage.  As for her for whose sake thou art thus, ask\nnot of her condition on thine account.  Thou keptest thy secret\nand fellest sick, but she discovered hers and they said she was\nmad; and she is now in prison, with an iron chain about her neck,\nin most piteous case; but, God willing, the healing of  both of\nyou shall be at my hand.'  When Kemerezzeman heard this, his life\nreturned to him and he took heart and courage and signed to his\nfather to help him sit up; at which the King was like to lose his\nreason for joy and lifting him up, set two pillows for him\nto lean upon.  Then, of his fear for his son, he shook the\nhandkerchief of dismissal and all the Amirs and Viziers withdrew;\nafter which he bade perfume the palace with saffron and decorate\nthe city, saying to Merzewan, 'By Allah, O my son, thou hast a\nlucky and a blessed aspect!'  And he made much of him and called\nfor food, which when they brought, Merzewan said to the prince,\n'Come, eat with me.'  So he obeyed him and ate with him, while\nthe King called down blessings on Merzewan and said, 'How\nauspicious is thy coming, O my son!'  When he saw Kemerezzeman\neat, his joy redoubled and he went out and told the prince's\nmother and the people of the palace.  Then he let call abroad the\ngood news of the prince's recovery and proclaimed the decoration\nof the city: so the people rejoiced and decorated the city and it\nwas a day of high festival.  Merzewan passed the night with\nKemerezzeman, and the King also slept with them, in the excess of\nhis joy for his son's recovery.  Next morning, when the King had\ngone away and the two young men were left alone, Kemerezzeman\ntold Merzewan his story from first to last and the latter said to\nhim, 'I know her with whom thou didst foregather; her name is the\nprincess Budour and she is daughter to King Gha\u00efour.'  Then he\ntold him all that had befallen the princess and acquainted him\nwith the excessive love she bore him, saying, 'All that befell\nthee with thy father hath befallen her with hers, and thou art\nwithout doubt her beloved, even as she is thine; so brace up thy\nresolution and take heart, for I will bring thee to her and unite\nyou both anon and deal with you even as saith the poet:\n\nThough to the lover adverse be the fair And drive him with her\n     rigours to despair,\nYet will I soon unite them, even as I The pivot of a pair of\n     scissors were.\n\nAnd he went on to comfort and hearten Kemerezzeman and urged him\nto eat and drink, cheering him and diverting him with talk and\nsong and stories, till he ate food and drank wine and life and\nstrength returned to him.  In good time he became free of his\ndisorder and stood up and sought to go to the bath.  So Merzewan\ntook him by the hand and carried him to the bath, where they\nwashed their bodies and made them clean.  When his father heard\nof this, in his joy he freed the prisoners and gave alms to the\npoor; moreover he bestowed splendid dresses of honour upon his\ngrandees and let decorate the city seven days.  Then said\nMerzewan to Kemerezzeman, 'Know, O my lord, that the sole object\nof my journey hither was to deliver the princess Budour from her\npresent strait; and it remains but for us to devise how we may\nget to her, since thy father cannot brook the thought of parting\nwith thee.  So it is my counsel that tomorrow thou ask his leave\nto go a-hunting, saying, \"I have a mind to divert myself with\nhunting in the desert and to see the open country and pass the\nnight there.\"  Then do thou take with thee a pair of saddle-bags\nfull of gold and mount a swift hackney and I will do the like;\nand we will take each a spare horse.  Suffer not any servant to\nfollow us, for as soon as we reach the open country, we will go\nour ways.'  Kemerezzeman rejoiced mightily in this plan and said,\n'It is good.'  Then he took heart and going in to his father,\nsought his leave to go out to hunt, saying as Merzewan had taught\nhim.  The King consented and said, 'O my son, a thousandfold\nblessed be the day that restores thee to health!  I will not\ngainsay thee in this; but pass not more than one night in the\ndesert and return to me on the morrow; for thou knowest that life\nis not good to me without thee, and indeed I can hardly as yet\ncredit thy recovery, because thou art to me as he of whom quoth\nthe poet:\n\nThough Solomon his carpet were mine both day and night, Though\n     the Choero\u00ebs' empire, yea, and the world were mine,\nAll were to me in value less than a midge's wing, Except mine\n     eyes still rested upon that face of thine.'\n\nThen he equipped the prince and Merzewan for the excursion,\nbidding make them ready four horses, together with a dromedary to\ncarry the money and a camel for the water and victuals; and\nKemerezzeman forbade any of his attendants to follow him.  His\nfather bade him farewell and pressed him to his breast and kissed\nhim, saying, 'I conjure thee by Allah, be not absent from me more\nthan one night, wherein sleep will be denied me, for I am even as\nsaith the poet:\n\nThy presence with me is my heaven of delight And my hell of\n     affliction the loss of thy sight.\nMy soul be thy ransom!  If love be my crime For thee, my offence,\n     of a truth, is not light.\nDoth passion blaze up in thy heart like to mine? I suffer the\n     torments of hell day and night.'\n\n'O my father,' answered Kemerezzeman, 'God willing, I will lie\nbut one night abroad.'  Then he took leave of him, and he and\nMerzewan mounted and taking with them the dromedary and camel,\nrode out into the open country.  They drew not bridle from the\nfirst of the day till nightfall, when they halted and ate and\ndrank and fed their beasts and rested awhile; after which they\nagain took horse and fared on three days, till they came to a\nspacious wooded tract.  Here they alighted and Merzewan, taking\nthe camel and one of the horses, slaughtered them and cut the\nflesh off their bones.  Then he took from Kemerezzeman his shirt\nand trousers and cassock and tearing them in shreds, smeared them\nwith the horse's blood and cast them down in the fork of the\nroad.  Then they ate and drank and taking horse set forward\nagain.  'O my brother,' said Kemerezzeman, 'what is this thou\nhast done and how will it profit us?'  'Know,' answered Merzewan,\n'that thy father, when he finds that we have outstayed the night\nfor which we had his leave, will mount and follow in our track\ntill he comes hither; and when he sees the blood and thy clothes\ntorn and bloodied, he will deem thee to have been slain of\nhighway robbers or wild beasts; so he will give up hope of thee\nand return to his city, and by this devise we shall gain our\nend.'  'By Allah,' said Kemerezzeman, 'this is indeed a rare\ndevice!  Thou hast done well.'  Then they fared on days and\nnights and Kemerezzeman did nought but weep and complain, till\nthey drew near their journey's end, when he rejoiced and repeated\nthe following verses:\n\nWilt thou be harsh to a lover, who's never unmindful of thee, And\n     wilt thou now cast him away to whom thou wast fain\n     heretofore?\nMay I forfeit the favour of God, if I ever was false to thy love!\n     Abandonment punish my crime, if I've broken the vows that I\n     swore!\nBut no, I've committed no crime, that calleth for rigour from\n     thee; Or, if in good sooth I'm at fault, I bring thee\n     repentance therefor.\nOf the marvels of Fortune it is that thou shouldst abandon me\n     thus; But Fortune to bring to the light fresh marvels will\n     never give o'er.\n\nWhen he had made an end of these verses, Merzewan said to him,\n'See, yonder are King Gha\u00efour's Islands.'  Whereat Kemerezzeman\nrejoiced with an exceeding joy and thanked him for what he had\ndone and strained him to his bosom and kissed him between the\neyes.  They entered the city and took up their lodging at a khan,\nwhere they rested three days from the fatigues of the journey;\nafter which Merzewan carried Kemerezzeman to the bath and\nclothing him in a merchant's habit, provided him with a geomantic\ntablet of gold, a set of astrological instruments and an\nastrolabe of silver, plated with gold.  Then he said to him, 'Go,\nO my lord, stand before the King's palace and cry out, \"I am the\nmathematician, I am the scribe, I am he that knows the Sought and\nthe Seeker, I am the skilled physician, I am the accomplished\nastrologer.  Where then is he that seeketh?\"  When the King hears\nthis, he will send after thee and carry thee in to his daughter\nthe princess Budour, thy mistress: but do thou say to him, \"Grant\nme three days' delay, and if she recover, give her to me to wife,\nand if not, deal with me as with those who came before me.\"  If\nhe agree to this, as soon as thou art alone with her, discover\nthyself to her; and when she knows thee, her madness will cease\nfrom her and she will be made whole in one night.  Then do thou\ngive her to eat and drink, and her father, rejoicing in her\nrecovery, will marry thee to her and share his kingdom with thee,\naccording to the condition he hath imposed on himself: and so\npeace be on thee.'  'May I never lack thine excellence!' replied\nKemerezzeman, and taking the instruments aforesaid, sallied forth\nof the khan and took up his station before King Gha\u00efour's palace,\nwhere he began to cry out, saying, 'I am the scribe, I am the\nmathematician, he that knows the Sought and the Seeker, I am he\nwho makes calculations for marriage contracts, who draws\nhoroscopes, interprets dreams and traces the magical characters\nby which hidden treasures are discovered!  Where then is the\nseeker?'  When the people of the city heard this, they flocked to\nhim, for it was long since they had seen a scribe or an\nastrologer, and stood round him, wondering at his beauty and\ngrace and perfect symmetry.  Presently one of them accosted him\nand said, 'God on thee, O fair youth with the eloquent tongue,\ncast not thyself into perdition, in thy desire to marry the\nprincess Budour!  Do but look on yonder heads hung up; they are\nall those of men who have lost their lives in this same venture.'\nHe paid no heed to them, but cried out at the top of his voice,\nsaying, 'I am the doctor, the scribe!  I am the astrologer, the\nmathematician!'  And all the townsfolk forbade him from this, but\nhe heeded them not, saying in himself, 'None knoweth desire save\nhe who suffereth it.'  Then he began again to cry his loudest,\nsaying, 'I am the scribe, I am the mathematician, I am the\nastrologer!'  till all the townsfolk were wroth with him and said\nto him, 'Thou art but a silly self-willed boy!  Have pity on\nthine own youth and tender years and beauty and grace.'  But he\ncried all the more, 'I am the astrologer, I am the mathematician!\nIs there any one that seeketh?'  As he was thus crying and the\npeople remonstrating with him, King Gha\u00efour heard his voice and\nthe clamour of the folk and said to his Vizier, 'Go down and\nbring me yon astrologer.'  So the Vizier went down and taking\nKemerezzeman from the midst of the crowd, carried him up to the\nKing, before whom he kissed the earth, repeating the following\nverses:\n\nEight elements of high renown are all comprised in thee; By them\n     may Fortune never cease thy bounder slave to be!\nMunificence and knowledge sure, glory and piety, Fair fluent\n     speech and eloquence and might and victory.\n\nWhen the King saw him, he made him sit down by his side and said\nto him, 'By Allah, O my son, an thou be not an astrologer,\nventure not thy life nor submit thyself to my condition; for I\nhave bound myself to strike off the head of whoso goeth in to my\ndaughter and healeth her not of her disorder; but him who healeth\nher I will marry to her.  So let not thy beauty and grace delude\nthee; for, by Allah, if thou cure her not, I will assuredly cut\noff thy head!'  'I knew of this condition before I came hither,'\nanswered Kemerezzeman, 'and am ready to abide by it.'  Then King\nGha\u00efour took the Cadis to witness against him and delivered him\nto an eunuch, saying, 'Carry this fellow to the lady Budour.'  So\nthe eunuch took him by the hand and led him along the gallery;\nbut Kemerezzeman out-went him and pushed on before, whilst the\neunuch ran after him, saying, 'Out on thee!  Hasten not to\ndestroy thyself.  By Allah, never yet saw I astrologer so eager\nfor his own destruction: thou knowest not the calamities that\nawait thee.'  But Kemerezzeman turned away his face and repeated\nthe following verses:\n\nA learn\u00e9d man, I'm ignorant before thy beauties bright; Indeed, I\n     know not what I say, confounded at thy sight.\nIf I compare thee to the sun, thou passest not away, Whilst the\n     sun setteth from the sky and fails anon of light.\nPerfect, indeed, thy beauties are; they stupefy the wise Nor ev'n\n     the eloquent avail to praise thy charms aright.\n\nThe eunuch stationed Kemerezzeman behind the curtain of the\nprincess's door and the prince said to him, 'Whether of the two\nwilt thou liefer have me do, cure thy lady from here or go in and\ncure her within the curtain?'  The eunuch marvelled at his words\nand answered, 'It were more to thine honour to cure her from\nhere.'  So Kemerezzeman sat down behind the curtain and taking\nout pen and inkhorn and paper, wrote the following: 'This is the\nletter of one whom passion torments and whom desire consumes and\nsorrow and misery destroy; one who despairs of life and looks for\nnothing but death, whose mourning heart has neither comforter nor\nhelper, whose sleepless eyes have none to succour them against\naffliction, whose day is passed in fire and his night in torment,\nwhose body is wasted for much emaciation and there comes to him\nno messenger from his beloved:\n\nI write with a heart devoted to thee and the thought of thee And\n     an eyelid, wounded for weeping tears of the blood of me.\nAnd a body that love and affliction and passion and long desire\n     Have clad with the garment of leanness and wasted utterly.\nI plain me to thee of passion, for sore hath it baffled me Nor is\n     there a corner left me where patience yet may be.\nWherefore, have mercy, I prithee, show favour unto me, For my\n     heart, my heart is breaking for love and agony.\n\nThe cure of hearts is union with the beloved and whom his love\nmaltreateth, God is his physician.  If either of us have broken\nfaith, may the false one fail of his desire!  There is nought\ngoodlier than a lover who is faithful to a cruel beloved one.'\nThen, for a subscription, he wrote, 'From the distracted and\ndespairing lover, him whom love and longing disquiet, from the\ncaptive of passion and transport, Kemerezzeman, son of Shehriman,\nto the peerless beauty, the pearl of the fair Houris, the Lady\nBudour, daughter of King Gha\u00efour.  Know that by night I am\nwakeful and by day distraught, consumed with ever-increasing\nwasting and sickness and longing and love, abounding in sighs,\nrich in floods of tears, the prisoner of passion, the slain of\ndesire, the debtor of longing, the boon-companion of sickness, he\nwhose heart absence hath seared.  I am the sleepless one, whose\neyes close not, the slave of love, whose tears run never dry, for\nthe fire of my heart is still unquenched and the flaming of my\nlonging is never hidden.'  Then in the margin he wrote this\nadmired verse:\n\nPeace from the stores of the grace of my Lord be rife On her in\n     whose hand are my heart and soul and life!\n\nAnd also these:\n\nVouchsafe thy converse unto me some little, so, perchance, Thou\n     mayst have ruth on me or else my heart be set at ease.\nYea, for the transport of my love and longing after thee, Of all\n     I've suffered I make light and all my miseries.\nGod guard a folk whose dwelling-place is far removed from mine,\n     The secret of whose love I've kept in many lands and seas!\nBut fate, at last, hath turned on me a favourable face And on my\n     loved one's threshold-earth hath cast me on my knees.\nBudour beside me in the bed I saw and straight my moon, Lit by\n     her sun, shone bright and blithe upon my destinies.[FN#39]\n\nThen by way of subscription, he wrote the following verses:\n\nAsk of my letter what my pen hath written, and the scroll Will\n     tell the passion and the pain that harbour in my soul.\nMy hand, what while my tears rain down, writes and desire makes\n     moan Unto the paper by the pen of all my weary dole.\nMy tears roll ever down my cheeks and overflow the page; Nay, I'd\n     ensue them with my blood, if they should cease to roll.\n\nAnd at the end he added this other verse:\n\nI send thee back herewith the ring I took whilere of thee, Whenas\n     we companied; so send me that thou hadst of me.\n\nThen he folded up Budour's ring inside the letter and sealing it,\ngave it to the eunuch, who went in with it to the princess.  She\ntook it from him and opening it, found in it her own ring.  Then\nshe read the letter and when she understood its purport and knew\nthat her beloved stood behind the curtain, her reason fled and\nher breast dilated for joy; and she repeated the following\nverses:\n\nLong, long have I bewailed the sev'rance of our loves, With tears\n     that from my lids streamed down like burning rain,\nAnd vowed that, if the days should reunite us two, My lips should\n     never speak of severance again.\nJoy hath o'erwhelmed me so that, for the very stress Of that\n     which gladdens me, to weeping I am fain.\nTears are become to you a habit, O my eyes, So that ye weep as\n     well for gladness as for pain.\n\nThen she rose and setting her feet to the wall, strained with all\nher might upon the iron collar, till she broke it from her neck\nand snapped the chains; then going forth, she threw herself on\nKemerezzeman and kissed him on the mouth, like a pigeon billing.\nAnd she embraced him with all the stress of her love and longing\nand said to him, 'O my lord, do I wake or sleep and has God\nindeed vouchsafed us reunion after separation?  Praised be He who\nhath reknit our loves, after despair!'  When the eunuch saw this,\nhe ran to King Gha\u00efour and kissing the earth before him, said, 'O\nmy lord, know that this is indeed the prince and paragon of\nastrologers; for he hath cured thy daughter from behind the\ncurtain, without going in to her.'  'Look to it well,' said the\nKing; 'is this news true?'  'O my lord,' answered the eunuch,\n'come and see for thyself how she hath found strength to break\nthe iron chains and is come forth to the astrologer, kissing and\nembracing him.'  So the King arose and went in to his daughter,\nwho, when she saw him, rose and covered her face, reciting the\nfollowing verses:\n\nI love not the toothstick; 'tis hateful to me, For I, when I name\n     it, say, \"Other than thee.\"[FN#40]\nBut I love, notwithstanding, the capparis-tree, For, whenas I\n     name it I say, \"Thee I see.\"[FN#41]\n\nThe King was transported for joy at her recovery and kissed her\nbetween the eyes, for he loved her very dearly; then turning to\nKemerezzeman, he asked him who he was and whence he came.  The\nprince told him his name and rank and that he was the son of King\nShehriman, and related to him the whole story from beginning to\nend; whereat Gha\u00efour marvelled and said, 'Verily, your story\ndeserves to be recorded in books and read after you, generation\nafter generation.'  Then he summoned Cadis and witnesses\nforthright and married the two lovers; after which he bade\ndecorate the city seven days long.  So they decorated the city\nand held high festival, and all the troops donned their richest\nclothes, whilst the drums beat and the criers announced the glad\ntidings.  Then they spread the tables with all manner meats and\nunveiled the princess before Kemerezzeman, and behold, each was\nlike unto the other in beauty and elegance and amorous grace.  So\nthe King rejoiced in the issue of her affair and in her marriage\nand praised God for that He had made her to fall in love with a\ngoodly youth of the sons of the kings.  Then Kemerezzeman went in\nto her and lay with her that night and took his will of her,\nwhilst she in like manner fufilled her desire of him and enjoyed\nhis beauty and grace; and they clipped each other till the\nmorning.  On the morrow, the King made a banquet and spreading\nthe tables with the richest meats, kept open house a whole month\nto all comers from the Islands of the Inner and the Outer Seas.\nNow, when Kemerezzeman had thus attained his desire and had\ntarried awhile with the princess Budour, he bethought him of his\nfather and saw him in a dream, saying, 'O my son, is it thus thou\ndealest with me?' and reciting the following verses:\n\nThe moon o' the dark by his neglect my spirit doth appal And to\n     the watching of his stars hath made my eyelids thrall.\nBut soft, my heart!  It may be yet he will return to thee; And\n     patience, soul, beneath the pain he's smitten thee withal!\n\nKemerezzeman awoke in the morning, afflicted and troubled at what\nhe had seen, whereupon the princess questioned him and he told\nher his dream.  Then they both went in to King Gha\u00efour and\ntelling him what had passed, besought his leave to depart.  He\ngave the prince the leave he sought; but the princess said,\n'O my father, I cannot endure to be parted from him.'  Quoth\nGha\u00efour, 'Then go thou with him,' and gave her leave to be\nabsent a whole year, charging her to visit him once in every year\nthereafterward.  So she kissed his hand and Kemerezzeman did the\nlike; after which he proceeded to equip them for the journey,\nfurnishing them with horses and dromedaries of choice and a\nlitter for his daughter, besides mules and camels laden with\nvictual and all manner of travelling gear.  Moreover, he\ngave them slaves and eunuchs to serve them and bestowed on\nKemerezzeman ten splendid suits of cloth of gold, embroidered\nwith jewels, together with a treasury[FN#42] of money and ten\nriding horses and as many she-camels.  When the day of departure\narrived, the King accompanied them to the farthest limits of his\nislands, where, going in to his daughter Budour in the litter, he\nkissed her and strained her to his bosom, weeping and repeating\nthe following verses:\n\nO thou that seekest parting, stay thy feet, For sure embraces are\n     a lover's right.\nSoftly, for fortune's nature is deceit And parting is the end of\n     love-delight.\n\nThen, leaving her, he kissed her husband and commended his\ndaughter to his care; after which he bade him farewell and giving\nthe signal for departure, returned to his capital with his\ntroops.  The prince and princess and their suite fared on without\nstopping a whole month, at the end of which time they came to a\nspacious champaign, abounding in pasturage, where they alighted\nand pitched their tents.  They ate and drank and rested, and\nthe princess Budour lay down to sleep.  Presently, Kemerezzeman\nwent in to her and found her lying asleep, in a shift of\napricot-coloured silk, that showed all it should have covered,\nand a coif of cloth of gold embroidered with pearls and jewels.\nThe breeze raised her shift and showed her breasts and navel and\na belly whiter than snow, each one of whose dimples contained an\nounce of benzoin ointment.[FN#43] At this sight, his love and\npassion for her redoubled, and he recited the following verses:\n\nIf, whilst within my entrails the fires of hell did stir And\n     flames raged high about me, 'twere spoken in my ear,\n\"Which wilt thou have the rather, a draught of water cold Or\n     sight of her thou lovest?\"  I'd say, \"The sight of her.\"\n\nThen he put his hand to the ribbon of her trousers and drew it\nand loosed it, for that his soul lusted after her, when he saw a\njewel, red as dragon's blood,[FN#44] made fast to the band.  He\nuntied and examined it and seeing two lines of writing graven\nthereon, in a character not to be read, marvelled and said in\nhimself, 'Except she set great store by this, she had not tied it\nto the ribbon of her trousers nor hidden it in the most private\nplace about her person, that she might not be parted from it.  I\nwonder what she doth with it and what is the secret that is in\nit.'  So saying, he took it and went without the tent to look at\nit in the light; but as he was examining it, a bird swooped down\non him and snatching it from his hand, flew off with it and\nlighted on the ground at a little distance.  Fearing to lose the\ntalisman, he ran after the bird; but it flew on before him,\nkeeping just out of his reach, and drew him on from place to\nplace and from hill to hill, till the night came on and the air\ngrew dark, when it roosted on a high tree.  Kemerezzeman stopped\nunder the tree, confounded and faint for hunger and weariness,\nand giving himself up for lost, would have turned back, but knew\nnot the way, for the darkness had overtaken him.  So he\nexclaimed, 'There is no power and no virtue but in God the Most\nHigh, the Supreme!'  and lying down under the tree, slept till\nthe morning, when he awoke and saw the bird also awake and fly\naway.  He arose and walked after it, and it flew on little by\nlittle before him, after the measure of his going; at which he\nsmiled and said, 'By Allah, this is a strange thing!  Yesterday,\nthe bird flew before me as fast as I could run; and to-day,\nknowing that I am tired and cannot run, it flieth after the\nmeasure of my walking.  By Allah, this is wonderful!  But,\nwhether it lead me to my death or to my life, I must needs follow\nit, wherever it goeth, for it will surely not abide save in some\ninhabited land.  So he  followed the bird, eating of the fruits\nof the earth and drinking of its waters, for ten days' space, and\nevery night the bird roosted on a tree.  At the end of this time,\nhe came in sight of an inhabited city, whereupon the bird darted\noff like the glance of the eye and entering the town, was lost to\nview: and Kemerezzeman marvelled at this and exclaimed, 'Praised\nbe God, who hath brought me hither in safety!'  Then he sat down\nby a stream and washed his hands and feet and face and rested\nawhile: and recalling his late easy and pleasant life of union\nwith his beloved and contrasting it with his present plight of\ntrouble and weariness and hunger and strangerhood and severance,\nthe tears streamed from his eyes and he repeated the following\ncinquains:\n\nI strove to hide the load that love on me did lay; In vain, and\n     sleep for me is changed to wake alway.\nWhenas wanhope doth press my heart both night and day, I cry\n     aloud, \"O Fate, hold back thy hand, I pray.\n          For all my soul is sick with dolour and dismay!\"\nIf but the Lord of Love were just indeed to me, Sleep had not\n     fled mine eyes by his unkind decree.\nHave pity, sweet, on one that is for love of thee Worn out and\n     wasted sore; once rich and great was he,\n          Now beggared and cast down by love from his array.\nThe railers chide at thee full sore; I heed not, I, But stop my\n     ears to them and give them back the lie.\n\"Thou lov'st a slender one,\" say they; and I reply, \"I've chosen\n     her and left all else beneath the sky.\"\n          Enough; when fate descends, the eyes are blinded aye.\n\nAs soon as he was rested, he rose and walked on, little by\nlittle, till he came to the city-gate and entered, knowing not\nwhither he should go.  He traversed the city from end to end,\nwithout meeting any of the townsfolk, entering by the land-gate\nand faring on till he came out at the sea-gate, for the city\nstood on the sea-shore.  Presently, he found himself among the\norchards and gardens of the place and passed among the trees,\ntill he came to a garden-gate and stopped before it, whereupon\nthe keeper came out to him and saluted him.  The prince returned\nhis greeting and the other bade him welcome, saying, 'Praised be\nGod that thou hast come off safe from the people of the city!\nQuick, come into the garden, ere any of the townsfolk see thee.'\nSo Kemerezzeman entered the garden, amazed, and said to the\nkeeper, 'Who and what then are the people of this city?'  'Know,'\nanswered the other,' that the people of this city are all\nMagians: but, God on thee, tell me how and why thou camest\nhither.'  Accordingly, Kemerezzeman told him all that had\nbefallen him, at which the gardener marvelled greatly and said,\n'Know, O my son, that from this place to the cities of Islam is\nfour months' journey by sea and a whole year by land.  We have a\nship that sails yearly hence with merchandise to the Ebony\nIslands, which are the nearest Muslim country, and thence to the\nKhalidan Islands, the dominions of King Shehriman.'  Kemerezzeman\nconsidered awhile and concluding that he could not do better than\nabide with the gardener and become his assistant, said to him,\n'Wilt thou take me into thy service, to help thee in this\ngarden?'  'Willingly,' answered the gardener and clothing him in\na short blue gown, that reached to his knees, taught him to lead\nthe water to the roots of the trees.  So Kemerezzeman abode with\nhim, watering the trees and hoeing up the weeds and weeping\nfloods of tears; for he had no rest day or night, by reason of\nhis strangerhood and separation from his beloved, and he ceased\nnot to repeat verses upon her, amongst others the following:\n\nYe made us a promise of yore; will ye not to your promise be\n     true? Ye spoke us a word aforetime; as ye spoke to us, will\n     ye not do?\nWe waken, whilst ye are asleep, according to passion's decree; So\n     have ye the vantage of us, for watchers and sleepers are\n     two.\nWe vowed to each other, whilere, that we would keep secret our\n     loves; But the breedbate possessed you to speak, and you\n     spoke and revealed what none knew.\nBelov\u00e9d in pleasure and pain, chagrin and contentment alike,\n     Whate'er may betide, ye alone are the goal that my wishes\n     ensue.\nThere's one that still holdeth a heart, a heart sore tormented of\n     mine; Ah, would she'd have ruth on my plight and pity the\n     soul that she slew!\nNot every one's eye is as mine, worn wounded and cankered with\n     tears, And hearts that are, even as mine, the bondslaves of\n     passion, are few.\nYe acted the tyrant with me, saying, \"Love is a tyrant, I trow.\"\n     Indeed, ye were right, and the case has proved what ye said\n     to be true.\nAlack!  They've forgotten outright a passion-distraught one,\n     whose faith Time 'minisheth not, though the fires in his\n     entrails rage ever anew.\nIf my foeman in love be my judge, to whom shall I make my\n     complaint? To whom of injustice complain, to whom for\n     redress shall I sue?\nWere it not for my needing of love and the ardour that burns in\n     my breast, I had not a heart love-enslaved and a soul that\n     for passion must rue.\n\nTo return to the princess Budour.  When she awoke, she sought her\nhusband and found him not: then she saw the ribbon of her\ntrousers undone and the talisman missing and said to herself, 'By\nAllah, this is strange!  Where is my husband?  It would seem as\nif he had taken the talisman and gone away, knowing not the\nsecret that is in it.  Whither can he have gone?  It must have\nbeen some extraordinary matter that drew him away, for he cannot\nbrook to leave me an hour.  May God curse the talisman and its\nhour!'  Then she considered awhile and said in herself, 'If I go\nout and tell the servants that my husband is lost, they will\ncovet me: I must use stratagem.'  So she rose and donned some of\nher husband's clothes and boots and spurs and a turban like his,\ndrawing the loose end across her face for a chin-band.  Then\nsetting a slave-girl in her litter, she went forth the tent and\ncalled to the servants, who brought her Kemerezzeman's horse; and\nshe mounted and bade load the beasts and set forward.  So they\nbound on the burdens and departed, none doubting but she was\nKemerezzeman, for she resembled him in face and form; nor did\nthey leave journeying, days and nights, till they came in sight\nof a city overlooking the sea, when they halted to rest and\npitched their tents without the walls.  The princess asked the\nname of the place and was told, 'It is called the City of Ebony:\nits king is named Armanous, and he hath a daughter called Heyat\nen Nufous.'  Presently, the King sent to learn who it was that\nhad encamped without his city; so the messenger, coming to the\ntents, enquired of Budour's servants and was told that she was a\nking's son, bound for the Khalidan Islands, who had strayed\nfrom his road; whereupon he returned and told the King, who\nstraightway took horse and rode out, with his nobles, to meet the\nstrange prince.  As he drew near the tents, the princess came to\nmeet him on foot, whereupon the King alighted and they saluted\neach other.  Then he carried her into the city and bringing her\nto the palace, let spread a banquet and bade transport her\ncompany and baggage to the guest-house, where they abode three\ndays; at the end of which time the King came in to Budour (Now\nshe had that day gone to the bath and her face shone as the moon\nat its full, enchanting all beholders, and she was clad in robes\nof silk, embroidered with gold and jewels) and said to her,\n'Know, O my son, that I am a very old man and am grown unable for\nthe conduct of the state.  Now God has blessed me with no child\nsave one daughter, who resembles thee in beauty and grace; so, O\nmy son, if this my country please thee and thou be willing to\nmake thine abode here, I will marry thee to my daughter and give\nthee my kingdom and so be at rest.'  When Budour heard this, she\nbowed her head and her forehead sweated for shame, and she said\nto herself, 'How shall I do, and I a woman?  If I refuse and\ndepart, I cannot be safe but that he may send after me troops to\nkill me; and if I consent, belike I shall be put to shame.  I\nhave lost my beloved Kemerezzeman and know not what is come of\nhim; wherefore I see nothing for it but to hold my peace and\nconsent and abide here, till God accomplish what is to be.'\nSo she raised her head and made submission to King Armanous,\nsaying, 'I hear and obey,' whereat he rejoiced and bade make\nproclamation, throughout the Ebony Islands, to hold high festival\nand decorate the houses.  Then he assembled his chamberlains and\nAmirs and Viziers and other officers of state and the Cadis of\nthe city, and putting off the kingship, invested Budour therewith\nand clad her in the royal robes.  Moreover, the Amirs and\ngrandees went in to her and did her homage, nothing doubting but\nthat she was a young man, and all who looked on her berayed their\nhose for the excess of her beauty and grace; then, after the lady\nBudour had been made Sultan and the drums had been beaten, in\nannouncement of the joyful event, Armanous proceeded to equip his\ndaughter for marriage, and in a few days, they brought Budour in\nto her, when they seemed as it were two moons risen at one time\nor two suns foregathering.  So they entered the bridal-chamber\nand the doors were shut and the curtains let down upon them,\nafter the attendants had lighted the candles and spread the bed\nfor them.  When Budour found herself alone with the princess\nHeyat en Nufous, she called to mind her beloved Kemerezzeman and\ngrief was sore upon her.  So she wept for his loss and absence\nand repeated the following verses:\n\nO ye who went and left my heart to pine alone fore'er, No spark\n     of life remains in me, since ye away did fare!\nI have an eye that doth complain of sleeplessness alway; Tears\n     have consumed it; would to God that sleeplessness would\n     spare!\nWhen ye departed, after you the lover did abide; But question of\n     him what of pain in absence he doth bear.\nBut for the ceaseless flood of tears my eyes pour forth, the\n     world Would at my burning all catch fire, yea, seas and\n     lands and air.\nTo God Most High I make my moan of dear ones loved and lost, That\n     on my passion have no ruth nor pity my despair.\nI never did them wrong, except my love for them were such; But\n     into blest and curst in love men aye divided were.\n\nWhen she had finished, she sat down beside the princess Heyat en\nNufous and kissed her on the mouth.  Then, rising abruptly, she\nmade the ablution and betook herself to her devotions, nor did\nshe leave praying till Heyat en Nufous was asleep, when she slipt\ninto bed and lay with her back to her till morning; then rose and\nwent out.  Presently, the old king and queen came in to their\ndaughter and asked her how she did, whereupon she told them what\nhad passed and repeated to them the verses she had heard.\n\nMeanwhile, Budour seated herself upon the throne and all the\nAmirs and captains and officers of state came in to her and\nwished her joy of the kingship, kissing the earth before her and\ncalling down blessings upon her.  She smiled on them and clad\nthem in robes of honour, augmenting the fiefs of the Amirs and\ngiving largesse to the troops; wherefore all the people loved her\nand offered up prayers for the continuance of her reign, doubting\nnot but that she was a man.  She sat all day in the hall of\naudience, ordering and forbidding and dispensing justice,\nreleasing those who were in prison and remitting the customs\ndues, till nightfall, when she withdrew to the apartment prepared\nfor her.  Here she found Heyat en Nufous seated; so she sat down\nby her and clapping her on the back, caressed her and kissed her\nbetween the eyes, repeating the following verses:\n\nThe secret that I cherished my tears have public made; The\n     wasting of my body my passion hath bewrayed.\nI hid my love and longing; but on the parting-day My plight,\n     alas!  revealed it to spies; 'twas open laid.\nO ye who have departed the camp, ye've left behind My body worn\n     with languor and spirit all decayed.\nWithin my heart's recesses ye have your dwelling-place; My tears\n     are ever running and lids with blood berayed.\nFor ever will I ransom the absent with my soul; Indeed, for them\n     my yearnings are patent and displayed.\nI have an eye, whose pupil, for love of them, rejects Sleep and\n     whose tears flow ever, unceasing and unstayed.\nMy foes would have me patient for him; but God forbid That ever\n     of my hearing should heed to them be paid!\nI baulked their expectation.  Of Kemerezzeman Sometime I did\n     accomplish the joys for which I prayed.\nHe doth, as none before him, perfections all unite; No king of\n     bygone ages was in the like arrayed.\nHis clemency and bounty Ben Za\u00efdeh's[FN#45] largesse And\n     Muawiyeh's[FN#46] mildness have cast into the shade.\nBut that it would be tedious and verse sufficeth not To picture\n     forth his beauties, I'd leave no rhyme unmade.\n\nThen she wiped away her tears and making the ablution, stood up\nto pray; nor did she give over praying, till drowsiness overcame\nHeyat en Nufous and she slept, whereupon Budour came and lay\nbeside her till the morning.  At daybreak, she arose and prayed\nthe morning-prayer; then, going forth, seated herself on the\nthrone and passed the day in ordering and forbidding and\nadministering justice.  Meanwhile, King Armanous went in to his\ndaughter and asked her how she did; so she told him all that had\npassed and repeated to him the verses that Budour had recited,\nadding, 'O my father, never saw I one more abounding in sense and\nmodesty than my husband, save that he doth nothing but weep and\nsigh.'  'O my daughter,' answered her father, 'have patience with\nhim yet this third night, and if he go not in to thee and do away\nthy maidenhead,  we will take order with him and oust him from\nthe throne and banish him the country.'  When the night came, the\nprincess Budour rose from the throne and betaking herself to the\nbride-chamber, found the candles lighted and the princess Heyat\nen Nufous sitting awaiting her; whereupon she bethought her of\nher husband and recalling the early severance of their loves,\nwept and sighed and groaned groan upon groan, repeating the\nfollowing verses:\n\nI swear the tidings of my woes fills all the country-side, Like\n     the sun shining on the hills of Nejed far and wide.\nHis gesture speaks, but hard to tell the meaning of it is, And\n     thus my yearning without end is ever magnified.\nI hate fair patience since the hour I fell in love with thee.\n     Hast seen a lover hating love at any time or tide?\nOne, in whose glances sickness lies, hath smitten me to death,\n     For looks are deadliest of the things, wherein doth sickness\n     bide.\nHe shook his clustered ringlets down and laid his chin-band by,\n     And beauty thus in him, at once both black and white, I\n     spied.\nSickness and cure are in his hands; for, to the sick of love, By\n     him alone who caused their dole can healing be applied.\nThe softness of his waist hath made his girdle mad for love And\n     of his hips, for jealousy, to rise he is denied.\nHis forehead, covered with his curls, is as a mirky night;\n     Unveiled, 'tis as a shining moon that thrusts the dark\n     aside.\n\nWhen she had finished, she would have risen to pray, but Heyat en\nNufous caught her by the skirt, saying, 'O my lord, art thou not\nashamed to neglect me thus, after all the favour my father hath\ndone thee?'  When Budour heard this, she sat down again and said,\n'O my beloved, what is this thou sayest?'  'What I say,' answered\nHeyat en Nufous, 'is that I never saw any so self-satisfied as\nthou.  Is every fair one so disdainful?  I say not this to\nincline thee to me, but only of my fear for thee from King\nArmanous; for he purposes, an thou go not in to me to-night and\ndo away my maidenhead, to strip thee of the kingship on the\nmorrow and banish thee the realm; and belike his much anger may\nlead him to kill thee.  But I, O my lord, have compassion on thee\nand give thee fair warning; and it is thine to decide.'  At this,\nBudour bowed her head in perplexity and said in herself, 'If I\nrefuse, I am lost, and if I obey, I am shamed.  I am now queen of\nall the Ebony Islands and they are under my rule and I shall\nnever again foregather with Kemerezzeman except it be in this\nplace; for there is no way for him to his native land but through\nthe Ebony Islands.  Verily, I know not what to do, for I am no\nman that I should arise and open this virgin girl; but I commit\nmy case to God, who orders all for the best.'  Then she said to\nHeyat en Nufous, 'O my beloved, it is in my own despite that I\nhave neglected thee and abstained from thee.'  And she discovered\nherself to her and told her her whole story, saying, 'I conjure\nthee by Allah to keep my counsel, till God reunite me with my\nbeloved Kemerezzeman, and then let what will happen.'  Her story\nmoved Heyat en Nufous to wonder and pity, and she prayed God to\nreunite her with her beloved, saying, 'Fear nothing, O my sister,\nbut have patience till God accomplish that which is to be.'  And\nshe repeated the following verses:\n\nNone keepeth counsel saving those who're trusty and discreet. A\n     secret's ever safely placed with honest folk and leal;\nAnd secrets trusted unto me are in a locked-up house, Whose keys\n     are lost and on whose door is set the Cadi's seal.\n\n'O my sister,' continued she, 'the breasts of the noble are the\ngraves of secrets, and I will not discover thine.'  Then they\ntoyed and embraced and kissed and slept till near the call to\nmorning-prayer, when Heyat en Nufous arose and slaughtering a\nyoung pigeon, besmeared herself and besprinkled her shift with\nits blood.  Then she put off her trousers and cried out,\nwhereupon her waiting-women hastened to her and raised cries of\njoy.  Presently, her mother came in to her aad asked her how she\ndid and tended her and abode with her till evening; whilst the\nlady Budour repaired to the bath and after washing herself,\nproceeded to the hall of audience, where she sat down on her\nthrone and dispensed justice among the folk.  When King Armanous\nheard the cries, he asked what was the matter and was informed of\nthe consummation of his daughter's marriage; whereat he rejoiced\nand his breast dilated and he made a great banquet.\n\nTo return to King Shehriman.  When Kemerezzeman and Merzewan\nreturned not at the appointed time, he passed the night without\nsleep, restless and consumed with anxiety.  The night was long\nupon him and he thought the day would never dawn.  He passed the\nforenoon of the ensuing day in expectation of his son's coming,\nbut he came not; whereat his heart forebode separation and he was\ndistraught with fears for Kemerezzeman.  He wept till his clothes\nwere drenched, crying out, 'Alas, my son!'  and repeating the\nfollowing verses from an aching heart:\n\nUnto the votaries of love I still was contrary, Till of its\n     bitter and its sweet myself perforce must taste.\nI quaffed its cup of rigours out, yea, even to the dregs, And to\n     its freemen and its slaves myself therein abased.\nFortune aforetime made a vow to separate our loves; Now hath she\n     kept her vow, alack!  and made my life a waste.\n\nThen he wiped away his tears and bade his troops make ready for a\nlong journey.  So they all mounted and set forth, headed by the\nSultan, whose heart burnt with grief and anxiety for his son.  He\ndivided the troops into six bodies, whom he despatched in as many\ndirections, giving them rendezvous for the morrow at the\ncross-roads.  Accordingly they scoured the country diligently all\nthat day and night, till at noon of the ensuing day they joined\ncompany at the cross-roads.  Here four roads met and they knew\nnot which the prince had followed, till they came to the torn\nclothes and found shreds of flesh and blood scattered by the way\non all sides.  When the King saw this, he cried out from his\ninmost heart, saying, 'Alas, my son!' and buffeted his face and\ntore his beard and rent his clothes, doubting not but his son was\ndead.  Then he gave himself up to weeping and wailing, and the\ntroops also wept for his weeping, being assured that the prince\nhad perished.  They wept and lamented and threw dust on their\nheads till they were nigh upon death, and the night surprised\nthem whilst they were thus engaged.  Then the King repeated the\nfollowing verses, with a heart on fire for the torment of his\ndespair:\n\nBlame not the mourner for the grief to which he is a prey, For\n     yearning sure sufficeth him, with all its drear dismay.\nHe weeps for dreariment and grief and stress of longing pain, And\n     eke his transport doth the fires, that rage in him, bewray.\nAlas, his fortune who's Love's slave, whom languishment hath\n     bound Never to let his eyelids stint from weeping night and\n     day!\nHe mourns the loss of one was like a bright and brilliant moon,\n     That shone out over all his peers in glorious array.\nBut Death did proffer to his lips a brimming cup to drink, What\n     time he left his native land, and now he's far away.\nHe left his home and went from us unto calamity; Nor to his\n     brethren was it given to him farewell to say.\nIndeed, his loss hath stricken me with anguish and with woe; Yea,\n     for estrangement from his sight my wits are gone astray.\nWhenas the Lord of all vouchsafed to him His Paradise, Upon his\n     journey forth he fared and passed from us for aye.\n\nThen he returned with the troops to his capital, giving up his\nson for lost and deeming that wild beasts or highwaymen had set\non him and torn him in pieces, and made proclamation that all in\nthe Khalidan Islands should don black in mourning for him.\nMoreover, he built a pavilion in his memory, naming it House of\nLamentations, and here he was wont to spend his days, (with the\nexception of Mondays and Thursdays, which he devoted to the\nbusiness of the state), mourning for his son and bewailing him\nwith verses, of which the following are some:\n\nMy day of bliss is that whereon thou drawest near to me, And\n     that, whereon thou turn'st away, my day of death and fear.\nWhat though I tremble all the night and go in dread of death, Yet\n     thine embraces are to me than safety far more dear.\n\nAnd again:\n\nMy soul redeem the absent, whose going cast a blight On hearts\n     and did afflict them with anguish and affright!\nLet gladness then accomplish its purification-time,[FN#47] For,\n     by a triple divorcement,[FN#48] I've put away delight.\n\nMeanwhile, the princess Budour abode in the Ebony Islands, whilst\nthe folk would point to her and say, 'Yonder is King Armanous's\nson-in-law;' and every night she lay with Heyat en Nufous, to\nwhom she made moan of her longing for her husband Kemerezzeman,\nweeping and describing to her his beauty and grace and yearning\nto enjoy him, though but in a dream.  And bytimes she would\nrepeat these verses:\n\nGod knows that, since my severance from thee, full sore I've\n     wept, So sore that needs my eyes must run for very tears in\n     debt.\n\"Have patience,\" quoth my censurer, \"and thou shalt win them\n     yet,\" And I, \"O thou that blamest me, whence should I\n     patience get?\"\n\n\nAll this time, Kemerezzeman abode with the gardener, weeping and\nrepeating verses night and day, bewailing the seasons of\nenjoyment and the nights of delight, whilst the gardener\ncomforted him with the assurance that the ship would set sail for\nthe land of the Muslims at the end of the year.  One day, he saw\nthe folk crowding together and wondered at this; but the gardener\ncame in to him and said, 'O my son, give over work for to-day\nneither water the trees; for it is a festival day, on which the\nfolk visit one another.  So rest and only keep thine eye on the\ngarden, whilst I go look after the ship for thee; for yet but a\nlittle while and I send thee to the land of the Muslims.'  So\nsaying, he went out, leaving Kemerezzeman alone in the garden,\nwho fell to musing upon his condition, till his courage gave way\nand the tears streamed from his eyes.  He wept till he swooned\naway, and when he recovered, he rose and walked about the garden\npondering what fate had done with him and bewailing his long\nestrangement from those he loved.  As he went thus, absorbed in\nmelancholy thought, his foot stumbled and he fell on his face,\nstriking his forehead against the stump of a tree.  The blow cut\nit open and his blood ran down and blent with his tears.  He rose\nand wiping away the blood, dried his tears and bound his forehead\nwith a piece of rag; then continued his melancholy walk about the\ngarden.  Presently, he saw two birds quarrelling on a tree, and\none of them smote the other on the neck with its beak and cut off\nits head, with which it flew away, whilst the slain bird's body\nfell to the ground before Kemerezzeman.  As it lay, two great\nbirds flew down and alighting, one at the head and the other at\nthe tail of the dead bird, drooped their wings over it and bowing\ntheir heads towards it, wept; and when Kemerezzeman saw them thus\nbewail their mate, he called to mind his wife  and father and\nwept also.  Then he saw them dig a grave and bury the dead bird;\nafter which they flew away, but presently returned with the\nmurderer and alighting on the grave, stamped on him till they\nkilled him.  Then they rent his belly and tearing out his\nentrails, poured the blood on the grave.  Moreover, they stripped\noff his skin and tearing his flesh in pieces, scattered it hither\nand thither.  All this while Kemerezzeman was watching them and\nwondering; but presently, chancing to look at the dead bird's\ncrop, he saw therein something gleaming.  So he opened it and\nfound the talisman that had been the cause of his separation from\nhis wife.  At this sight, he fell down in a swoon for joy; and\nwhen he revived, he said, 'Praised be God!  This is a good omen\nand a presage of reunion with my beloved.'  Then he examined the\njewel and passed it over his eyes; after which he bound it to his\narm, rejoicing in coming good, and walked about, awaiting the\ngardener's return, till nightfall; when, as he came not, he lay\ndown and slept in his wonted place.  At daybreak he rose and\ngirding himself with a cord of palm-fibre, took hoe and basket\nand went out to his work in the garden.  Presently, he came to a\ncarob-tree and struck the hoe into its roots.  The blow resounded\n[as if it had fallen on metal]; so he cleared away the earth and\ndiscovered a trap-door of brass.  He raised the trap and found a\nwinding stair, which he descended and came to an ancient vault of\nthe time of Aad and Themoud,[FN#49]  hewn out of the rock.  Round\nthe vault stood many brazen vessels of the bigness of a great\noil-jar, into one of which he put his hand and found it full of\nred and shining gold; whereupon he said to himself, 'Verily, the\ndays of weariness are past and joy and solace are come!'  Then he\nreturned to the garden and replacing the trap-door, busied\nhimself in tending the trees till nightfall, when the gardener\ncame back and said to him, 'O my son, rejoice in a speedy return\nto thy native land, for the merchants are ready for the voyage\nand in three days' time the ship will set sail for the City of\nEbony, which is the first of the cities of the Muslims; and\nthence thou must travel by land six months' journey till thou\ncome to the Islands of Khalidan, the dominions of King Shehriman.'\nAt this Kemerezzeman rejoiced and repeated the following verses:\n\nForsake not a lover unused aversion from thee, Nor punish the\n     guiltless with rigour and cruelty.\nAnother, when absence was long, had forgotten thee And changed\n     from his faith and his case; not so with me.\n\nThen he kissed the gardener's hand, saying, 'O my father, even as\nthou hast brought me glad tidings, so I also have great good news\nfor thee,' and told him of his discovery in the garden; whereat\nthe gardener rejoiced and said, 'O my son, fourscore years have I\ndwelt in this garden and have never chanced on aught; whilst\nthou, who hast not sojourned with me a year, hast discovered\nthis thing; wherefore it is God's gift to thee, for the cesser\nof thine ill fortune, and will aid thee to rejoin thy folk\nand foregather with her thou lovest.'  'Not so,' answered\nKemerezzeman, 'it must be shared between us.'  Then he carried\nhim to the underground chamber and showed him the gold, which was\nin twenty jars.  So he took ten and the gardener ten, and the\nlatter said to him, 'O my son, fill thyself jars with the olives\nthat grow in the garden, for they are not found but in our land\nand are sought after; the merchants carry them to all parts and\nthey are called Asafiri[FN#50] olives.  Lay the gold in the jars\nand cover it with olives: then stop them and cover them and take\nthem with thee in the ship.'  So Kemerezzeman took fifty jars and\nlaying in each somewhat of the gold, filled it up with olives.\nAt the bottom of one of the jars he laid the talisman, then\nstopped and covered the jars and sat down to talk with the\ngardener, making sure of speedy reunion with his own people and\nsaying in himself, 'When I come to the Ebony Islands, I will\njourney thence to my father's country and enquire for my beloved\nBudour.  I wonder whether she turned back to her own land or\njourneyed on to my father's country or whether there befell her\nany accident by the way.'  And he repeated the following verses:\n\nLove in my breast they lit and passed away forthright: Far\n     distant is the land that holds my soul's delight.\nFar, far from me the camp and those that dwell therein; No\n     visitation-place again shall us unite.\nPatience and reason fled from me, when they fared forth; Sleep\n     failed me and despair o'ercame me, like a blight.\nThey left me, and with them departed all my joy; Tranquillity and\n     peace with them have taken flight.\nThey made mine eyes run down with tears of love laid waste; My\n     lids for lack of them brim over day and night.\nWhenas my sad soul longs to see them once again And waiting and\n     desire are heavy on my spright,\nMidmost my heart of hearts their images I trace, Love and\n     desireful pain and yearning for their sight.\n\nThen he told the gardener what he had seen pass between the\nbirds, whereat he wondered; and they both lay down and slept till\nthe morning.  The gardener awoke sick and abode thus two days;\nbut on the third day, his sickness increased on him, till they\ndespaired of his life and Kemerezzeman grieved sore for him.\nMeanwhile, the captain and sailors came and enquired for the\ngardener.  Kemerezzeman told them that he was sick, and they\nsaid, 'Where is the young man that is minded to go with us to the\nEbony Islands?'  'He is your servant,' answered the prince and\nbade them carry the jars of olives to the ship.  So they\ntransported them to the ship, saying, 'Make haste, for the wind\nis fair;' and he answered, 'I hear and obey.'  Then he carried\nhis victual on board and returning, to bid the gardener farewell,\nfound him in the agonies of death.  So he sat down at his head\nand closed his eyes, and his soul departed his body; whereupon he\nlaid him out and committed him to the earth to the mercy of God\nthe Most High.  Then he went down to the port, to embark, but\nfound that the ship had already weighed anchor and set sail; nor\ndid she cease to cleave the waters, till she disappeared from\nhis sight.  So he returned to the garden, sorrowful and\nheavy-hearted, and sitting down, threw dust on his head and\nbuffeted his face.  Then he rented the garden of its owner and\nhired a man to help him tend the trees.  Moreover, he went down\nto the underground chamber and bringing up the rest of the gold,\nstowed it in other fifty jars, which he filled up with olives.\nThen he enquired of the ship and was told that it sailed but once\na year; at which his affliction redoubled and he mourned sore for\nthat which had befallen him, above all for the loss of the\nprincess Budour's talisman, and spent his nights and days weeping\nand repeating verses.\n\nMeanwhile, the ship sailed with a favouring wind, till it reached\nthe Ebony Islands.  As fate would have it, the princess Budour\nwas sitting at a window overlooking the sea and saw the ship cast\nanchor in the port.  At this sight, her heart throbbed and she\nmounted and riding down to the port, with her officers, halted by\nthe ship, whilst the sailors broke out the cargo and transported\nthe goods to the storehouses; after which she called the captain\nand asked what he had with him.  'O King,' answered he, 'I have\nwith me drugs and cosmetics and powders and ointments and\nplasters and rich stuffs and Yemen rugs and other costly\nmerchandise, not to be borne of mule or camel, and all manner\nessences and spices and perfumes, civet and ambergris and camphor\nand Sumatra aloes-wood, and tamarinds and Asafiri olives to boot,\nsuch as are rare to find in this country.'  When she heard talk\nof Asafiri olives, her heart yearned for them and she said to the\ncaptain, 'How much olives hast thou?'  'Fifty jars full,'\nanswered he.  'Their owner is not with us, but the King shall\ntake what he will of them.'  Quoth she, 'Bring them ashore, that\nI may see them.'  So he called to the sailors, who brought her\nthe fifty jars; and she opened one and looking at the olives,\nsaid to the captain, 'I will take the whole fifty and pay you\ntheir value, whatever it may be.'  'By Allah, O my lord,'\nanswered he, 'they have no value in our country and the fifty\njars may be worth some hundred dirhems; but their owner tarried\nbehind us, and he is a poor man.'  'And what are they worth\nhere?' asked she.  'A thousand dirhems,' replied he.  'I will\ntake them at that price,' quoth she and bade carry the fifty jars\nto the palace.  When it was night, she called for a jar of olives\nand opened it, there being none present but herself and the\nprincess Heyat en Nufous.  Then, taking a dish, she turned into\nit the contents of the jar, when behold there fell out into the\ndish with the olives a heap of red gold and she said to Heyat en\nNufous, 'This is nought but gold!'  So she sent for the rest of\nthe jars and found each one full of gold and scarce enough olives\nin the whole fifty to fill one jar.  Moreover, she sought among\nthe gold and found the talisman, which she took and examined and\nknew for that which Kemerezzeman had taken from off the riband of\nher trousers; whereupon she cried out for joy and fell down in a\nswoon.  When she revived, she said in herself, 'Verily, this\ntalisman was the cause of my separation from my beloved\nKemerezzeman; but now it is an omen of good.'  Then she showed it\nto Heyat en Nufous and said to her, 'This was the cause of\nseparation and now, please God, it shall be the cause of\nreunion.'  As soon as it was day, she seated herself on her\nthrone and sent for the captain, who came and kissed the ground\nbefore her.  Quoth she, 'Where didst thou leave the owner of\nthese olives?'  'O King of the age,' answered he, 'we left him in\nthe land of the Magians and he is a gardener there.'  'Except\nthou bring him to me,' said she, 'thou knowest not the harm that\nawaits thee and thy ship.'  Then she bade seal up the merchants'\nstorehouses and said to them, 'The owner of these olives is my\ndebtor; and an ye bring him not to me, I will without fail put\nyou all to death and confiscate your goods.'  So they all went to\nthe captain and promised him the hire of the ship, if he would go\nand return a second time, saying, 'Deliver us from this masterful\ntyrant.'  Accordingly, the captain set sail and God decreed him a\nprosperous voyage, till he came to the city of the Magians, and\nlanding by night, went up to the garden.  Now the night was long\nupon Kemerezzeman, and he sat, bethinking him of his beloved and\nweeping over what had befallen him and repeating the following\nverses:\n\nFull many a night I've passed, whose stars their course did stay,\n     A night that seemed of those that will not pass away,\nThat was, as 'twere, for length the Resurrection-morn, To him\n     that watched therein and waited for the day!\n\nAt this moment, the captain knocked at the garden-gate, and\nKemerezzeman opened and went out to him, whereupon the sailors\nseized him and carrying him on board the ship, weighed anchor\nforthright.  They sailed on without ceasing days and nights,\nwhilst Kemerezzeman knew not why they dealt thus with him; but\nwhen he questioned them, they replied, 'Thou hast offended\nagainst the lord of the Ebony Islands, the son-in-law of King\nArmanous, and hast stolen his good, unhappy wretch that thou\nart!'  'By Allah,' said he, 'I know not the country nor was I\never there in all my life!'  However, they fared on with him,\ntill they made the Ebony Islands and landing, carried him up to\nthe princess Budour, who knew him at sight and said, 'Leave him\nwith the eunuchs, that they may take him to the bath.'  Then she\nrelieved the merchant of the embargo and gave the captain a dress\nof honour and ten thousand dinars; after which, she went in that\nnight to the princess Heyat en Nufous and told her what had\npassed, saying, 'Keep thou my counsel, till I accomplish my\npurpose and do a thing that shall be recorded and told to kings\nand commoners after us.'  Meanwhile, they carried Kemerezzeman to\nthe bath and clad him in a royal habit, so that, when he came\nforth, he resembled a willow-wand or a star whose aspect put to\nshame both sun and moon, and his life returned to him.  Then he\nwent in to the princess Budour, who, when she saw him, schooled\nher heart to patience, till she should have accomplished her\npurpose, and bestowed on him slaves and servants, black and\nwhite, and camels and mules.  Moreover, she gave him a treasury\nof money and advanced him from dignity to dignity, till she made\nhim treasurer and committed to his charge all the treasures of\nthe state; nor did she leave day by day to increase his\nallowances and afford him fresh marks of her favour.  As for\nKemerezzeman, he was at a loss for the reason of all the honour\nand favour she showed him and gave gifts and largesse out of the\nabundance of the wealth he owed to her munificence, devoting\nhimself in particular to the service of King Armanous, so that he\nand all the Amirs and people, great and small, loved him and were\nwont to swear by his life.  Nevertheless, he ceased not to marvel\nat the favour shown him by Budour and said in himself, 'By Allah,\nthere must be a reason for this affection!  Peradventure, this\nking favours me thus excessively with some ill purpose and needs\nmust I therefore crave leave of him to depart his realm.'  So he\nwent in to Budour and said to her, 'O King, thou hast overwhelmed\nme with favours, but it will fulfil the measure of thy bounties\nif thou wilt take from me all thou hast given and let me depart.'\nShe smiled and said, 'What makes thee seek to depart and plunge\ninto new perils, whenas thou art in the enjoyment of the greatest\nfavour and prosperity?'  'O King,' answered Kemerezzeman, 'this\nfavour, if there be no reason for it, is indeed a wonder of\nwonders, more by token that thou hast advanced me to dignities\nsuch as befit graybeards, albeit I am but a child.'  'The reason\nis,' answered she, 'that I love thee for thine exceeding grace\nand thy surpassing beauty; and so thou wilt but grant me my\ndesire of thee, I will advance thee yet further in honour and\nfavour and largesse and make thee Vizier, for all thy tender age,\neven as the folk made me Sultan and I no older than thou; so that\nnowadays there is nothing strange in the headship of children,\nand gifted of God was he who said:\n\nOur time is, meseems, of the lineage of Lot; It craves the\n     advancement of younglings, God wot.'\n\nWhen Kemerezzeman heard this, he was confounded and his cheeks\nflushed till they seemed on fire; and he said, 'I reck not of\nfavours that involve the commission of sin; I will live poor in\nwealth but rich in virtue and honour.'  Quoth she, 'I am not the\ndupe of thy scruples, arising from prudery and coquetry: and God\nbless him who says:\n\nI mentioned to him the pact of fruition, and he, \"How long with\n     vexatious discourse wilt thou set upon me?\"\nI showed him a dinar and straightway he sang out and said, \"O\n     whither shall one from Fate irresistible flee!\"\n\n'O King,' replied Kemerezzeman, 'I have not the wont of these\ndoings, nor have I strength, who am but of tender years, to bear\nthese heavy burdens, for which elder than I have proved unable.'\nShe smiled and rejoined, 'Indeed, it is wonderful how error\nsprings from the disorder of the wit.  Since thou art but a boy,\nwhy standest thou in fear of sin or the doing of forbidden\nthings, seeing that thou art not yet come to years of discretion\nand the offences of a child incur neither punishment nor reproof?\nVerily, thou committest thyself to an argument advanced but for\nthe sake of contention, and it behoves thee to bow to the\nordinance of fruition, which has been given against thee.\nWherefore, henceforward, give over denial and coyness, for the\ncommandment of God is a foreordained decree:[FN#51] indeed, I\nhave more reason than thou to fear falling into error; and\nwell-inspired was he who said:\n\nMy pintle is big and the little one said unto me, \"Tilt boldly\n     therewith at my inwards and quit thee thy need.\"\nQuoth I, \"'Tis unlawful;\" but he, \"It is lawful with me;\" So to\n     it I fell, supporting myself by his rede.'\n\nWhen Kemerezzeman heard these words, the light in his eyes became\ndarkness and he said, 'O King, thou hast in thy palace women and\nfemale slaves, that have not their like in this age: may not\nthese suffice thee without me?  Do thy will with them and leave\nme.'  'Thou speakest truth,' answered she; 'but it is not with\nthem that one who loves thee can heal himself of torment and\nfever; for when tastes and inclinations are corrupted, they\nhearken to other than good counsel.  So leave arguing and hear\nwhat the poet says:\n\nSeest not the fruits of the market, how of two kinds they be?\n     Some are for figs,[FN#52] but more for the fruit of the\n     sycamore-tree.[FN#53]\n\nAnd what another says:\n\n\nFull many an one, whose ankle-rings are dumb, her girdle sounds;\n     So this one is content and that a tale of need must tell.\nThou'dst have me, foolwise, in her charms forget thee. God\n     forfend I, that a true believer am, should turn an infidel!\nNo, by a whisker that makes mock of all her curls, I swear, Nor\n     maid nor strumpet from thy side shall me by guile compel!\n\nAnd a third:\n\nO pearl of loveliness, to love thee is my faith; Yea, and my\n     choice of all the faiths that have been aye.\nWomen I have forsworn, indeed, for thy sweet sake, So that the\n     folk avouch I'm grown a monk to-day\n\nAnd a fourth:\n\nCompare not a wench with a boy and to the spy, Who says to thee,\n     \"This is wrong,\" pay thou no heed.\n'Twixt a woman whose feet one's lips kiss and a smooth-faced\n     fawn, Who kisses the earth, the diff'rence is great indeed.\n\nAnd a fifth:\n\nMy soul be thy ransom!  Indeed, I've chosen thee out with intent,\n     Because thou layest no eggs and dost not menstruate.\nFor, an I inclined to foregather with harlots, upon my faith, The\n     wide, wide world for the brats I should get would prove too\n     strait.\n\nAnd a sixth:\n\nQuoth she to me,--and sore enraged for wounded pride was she, For\n     she in sooth had bidden me to that which might not be,--\n\"An if thou swive me not forthright, as one should swive his\n     wife, If thou be made a cuckold straight, reproach it not to\n     me.\nMeseems thy yard is made of wax, for very flaccidness; For, when\n     I rub it with my hand, it softens instantly.\"\n\nAnd a seventh:\n\nQuoth she (for I to lie with her would not consent), \"O fool,\n     that followest on thy folly to the extent,\nIf thou reject my kaze for Kibleh[FN#54] to thy yard, We'll show\n     thee one wherewith thou shalt be sure content.\"\n\nAnd an eighth:\n\nShe proffered me a tender kaze; But I, \"I will not swive,\"\n     replied.\nShe drew back, saying, \"From the truth Needs must he turn who's\n     turned aside;[FN#55]\nAnd swiving frontwise in our day Is all abandoned and decried;\"\nThen turned and showed me, as it were A lump of silver, her\n     backside.\n\"Well done, O mistress mine!  No more Am I in pain for thee,\" I\n     cried,\n\"Whose poke of all God's openings[FN#56] Is sure the amplest and\n     most wide!\"\n\nAnd a ninth:\n\nMen crave forgiveness with uplifted hands; But women pray with\n     lifted legs, I trow.[FN#57]\nOut on it for a pious piece of work! God shall exalt it to the\n     deeps below.[FN#58]\n\nWhen Kemerezzeman heard these verses and was certified that there\nwas no escaping compliance with her will, he said, 'O King, if\nthou must needs have it so, swear to me that thou wilt use me\nthus but once, though it avail not to stay thy debauched\nappetite; and that thou wilt never again require me of this to\nthe end of time; so it may be God will purge me of the sin.'  'I\npromise thee that,' replied she, 'hoping that God of His favour\nwill relent towards us and blot out our mortal sins; for the\ncompass of the Divine forgiveness is not indeed so strait, but it\nmay altogether embrace us and absolve us of the excess of our\ntransgressions and bring us to the light of righteousness out of\nthe darkness of error.  As most excellent well saith the poet:\n\nThe folk imagine of us twain an evil thing, I ween, And with\n     their hearts and souls, indeed, they do persist therein.\nCome, let us justify their thought and free them thus from guilt,\n     This once, 'gainst us; and then will we repent us of our\n     sin.'\n\nThen she swore to him a solemn oath, by Him whose existence is\nunconditioned, that this thing should befall betwixt them but\nonce and never again for all time, and vowed to him that the\ndesire of him was driving her to death and perdition.  So he went\nwith her, on this condition, to her privy closet, that she might\nquench the fire of her passion, saying, 'There is no power and no\nvirtue save in God the Most High, the Supreme!  This is the\nordinance of the All-powerful, the All-wise!'  And did off his\ntrousers, in the utmost confusion, with the tears running from\nhis eyes for stress of affright; whereat she smiled and carrying\nhim on to a couch, said to him, 'After this night, thou shalt see\nnought that will displease thee.'  Then she turned to him,\nkissing and clipping him and twining leg with leg, and said to\nhim, 'Put thy hand, between my thighs, to that thou wottest of,\nso haply it may be won to stand up after prostration.'  He wept\nand said, 'I am not good at aught of this.'  But she said, 'As I\nlive, an thou do as I bid thee, it shall profit thee!'  So he put\nout his hand, with a heart on fire for confusion, and found her\nthighs fresher than cream and softer than silk.  The touching of\nthem pleasured him and he moved his hand hither and thither, till\nhe came to a dome abounding in benedictions and movements and\nsaid in himself, 'Belike this king is a hermaphrodite, nor male\nnor female.'  So he said to her, 'O King, I cannot find that thou\nhast any manly gear, even as other men; what then moved thee to\ndo thus?'  When the princess heard this, she laughed till she\nfell backward, and said, 'O my beloved, how quickly thou hast\nforgotten the nights we have lain together!'  Then she made\nherself known to him and he knew her for his wife, the Lady\nBudour, daughter of King Gha\u00efour.  So he embraced her and she\nembraced him and they kissed each other; then they lay down on\nthe bed of delight, repeating the words of the poet:\n\nWhenas the softness of a shape did bid him to my arms, That, as\n     it were a trailing vine with twinings did him ply\nAnd on the hardness of his heart its very softness shed, He\n     yielded, though at first he feigned reluctance to comply,\nAnd came, provided with a stock of caution safe and sure, Fearing\n     lest, when he did appear, the railers should him spy.\nHis waist of buttocks maketh moan, that lay upon his feet A very\n     camel's load, what time he would a-walking hie.\nGirt with his glances' trenchant swords and cuirassed with the\n     mail Of his bright locks, as 'twere the dusk new fallen from\n     the sky,\nHis fragrance brought me from afar the news of his approach, And\n     forth, as bird let out from cage, to meet my love fled I.\nI laid my cheek within his way, beneath his sandal-soles, And lo,\n     their dust's collyrium healed the ailment of mine eye!\nWith an embrace I hoisted up the flag of loves new linked And\n     loosed the knot of my delight, that made as 'twould deny.\nThen let I call high festival, and gladness, all unmixed With any\n     thought of troublousness, came flocking in reply.\nThe full moon handselled with the stars the teeth, like grains of\n     pearl, That on the laughing face of wine now dance, now\n     stirless lie.\nSo in the niche of their delight I gave me up to joys, The\n     veriest sinner would repent if he their like might try.\nThe morning-glories of his face be pledge I'll ne'er, in him,\n     Forget the writ that biddeth us One only glorify![FN#59]\n\nThen they told one another all that had befallen them since their\nseparation, after which he began to upbraid her, saying, 'What\nmoved thee to deal with me as thou hast done this night?'  'Do\nnot reproach me,' replied she; 'for I did this but by way of jest\nand for increase of pleasure and gladness.'  When it was morning\nand the day arose with its light and shone, she sent to King\nArmanous and acquainted him with the truth of the case and that\nshe was wife to Kemerezzeman.  Moreover, she told him their story\nand the manner of their separation and how his daughter Heyat\nen Nufous was yet a maid.  He marvelled greatly at their story\nand bade record it in letters of gold.  Then he turned to\nKemerezzeman and said, 'O king's son, art thou minded to marry my\ndaughter and become my son-in-law?'  'I must consult the princess\nBudour,' answered he; 'for I owe her favour without stint.'  So\nhe took counsel with her and she said, 'This is well seen; marry\nher and I will be her handmaid, for I am her debtor for kindness\nand favour and good offices, more by token that we are here in\nher place and that the king her father has loaded us with\nbenefits.'  When he saw that she inclined to this and was not\njealous of Heyat en Nufous, he agreed with her thereupon and told\nKing Armanous what she had said, whereat he rejoiced greatly.\nThen he went out and seating himself in his chair of estate,\nassembled all the Viziers and Amirs and chamberlains and\ngrandees, to whom he related the whole story and acquainted them\nwith his desire to marry his daughter to Kemerezzeman and make\nhim king in the stead of the princess Budour.  Whereupon said\nthey all, 'Since he is the husband of the princess Budour, who\nhath been our Sultan till now, whilst we deemed her King\nArmanous's son-in-law, we are all content to have him to Sultan\nover us and will be his servants, nor will we swerve from his\nallegiance.'  At this Armanous rejoiced and summoning Cadis and\nwitnesses and the chief officers of state, let draw up the\ncontract of marriage between Kemerezzeman and his daughter, the\nprincess Heyat en Nufous.  Then he held high festival, giving\nsumptuous banquets and bestowing costly dresses of honour upon\nthe Amirs and captains; moreover, he gave alms to the poor and\nneedy and freed the prisoners.  All the folk rejoiced in the\ncoming of Kemerezzeman to the throne, wishing him abiding glory\nand prosperity and happiness and renown, and as soon as he became\nking, he remitted the customs-dues and released all that\nremained in prison.  Thus he abode a long while, ordering himself\nworthily towards his subjects, and lived with his wives in peace\nand happiness and content, lying the night with each of them in\nturn.  And indeed all his troubles and afflictions were blotted\nout from him and he forgot his father King Shehriman and his\nformer estate of honour and worship with him.\n\nAfter awhile, God the Most High blessed him with two sons, as\nthey were two shining moons, the elder, whose name was prince\nAmjed, by Queen Budour, and the younger, whose name was prince\nAsaad and who was comelier than his brother, by Queen Heyat en\nNufous.  They were reared in splendour and delight and were\ninstructed in penmanship and science and the arts of government\nand horsemanship and other polite arts and accomplishments, till\nthey attained the extreme of perfection and the utmost limit of\nbeauty and grace, and both men and women were ravished by their\ncharms.  They grew up together, till they reached the age of\nseventeen, and loved one another so dear that they were never\napart, eating and drinking together and sleeping in one bed; and\nall the people envied them their beauty and concord.  When they\ncame to man's estate and were endowed with every perfection,\ntheir father was wont, as often as he went on a journey, to make\nthem sit in his stead by turns in the place of judgment, and\neach did justice among the folk one day at a time.  Now, as\nunalterable fate and foreordained destiny would have it, Queen\nBudour fell in love with Asaad, son of Queen Heyat en Nufous, and\nthe latter became enamoured of Amjed; and each of them used to\nsport and play with the other's son, kissing him and straining\nhim to her bosom, whilst each thought that the other's behaviour\narose but from motherly affection.  On this wise, passion got the\nmastery of the two women's hearts and they became madly enamoured\nof the two youths, so that when the other's son came in to either\nof them, she would press him to her bosom and long for him never\nto be parted from her; till, at last, when waiting grew tedious\nto them and they found no way to enjoyment, they refused meat and\ndrink and forewent the solace of sleep.  Presently, the King went\nout to hunt, bidding his sons sit to do justice in his stead,\neach one day in turn, according to their wont.  So prince Amjed\nsat on the throne the first day, ordering and forbidding,\nappointing and deposing, giving and denying; and Queen Heyat\nen Nufous took a scroll and wrote to him the following letter,\nsuing for his favour and discovering to him her passion, in\nfine, altogether putting off the mask and giving him to know\nthat she desired to enjoy him.  'From the wretched lover, the\nsorrowful severed one, whose youth is wasted in the love of\nthee and whose torment for thee is prolonged.  Were I to\nrecount to thee the extent of my affliction and what I suffer\nfor sadness, the passion that is in my breast and all that I\nendure for weeping and groaning and the rending of my sorrowful\nheart, my unremitting cares and my ceaseless griefs and all my\nsuffering for severance and sadness and the ardour of desire,\nno letter could contain it nor calculation compass it. Indeed,\nearth and heaven are straitened upon me, and I have no hope and\nno trust but in thee.  I am come nigh upon death and suffer the\nhorrors of dissolution; burning is sore upon me, and the pangs\nof separation and estrangement.  Were I to set out the yearnings\nthat possess me, no scrolls would suffice thereto: and of the\nexcess of my affliction and wasting away, I have made the\nfollowing verses:\n\nWere I to set down all I feel of heart-consuming dole And all the\n     transport and unease that harbour in my soul,\nNor ink nor pen in all the world thereafter would remain, Nor\n     aught from east to west were left of paper or of scroll.'\n\nThen she folded up the silken tresses of her hair, whose cost\nswallowed up treasures, in the letter, and wrapping it in a piece\nof rich silk, scented with musk and ambergris, laid it in a\nhandkerchief; after which she gave it to an eunuch and bade him\ncarry it to prince Amjed.  The eunuch took it, knowing not what\nthe future hid for him, (for He who knoweth the hidden things\nordereth events according to His will,) and going in to the\nprince, kissed the earth before him and gave him the letter.  He\nopened it and reading it, was ware that his father's wife was in\nintent an adulteress and a traitress to her husband; whereat he\nwas exceeding wroth and railed at women and their works, saying,\n'May God curse women, the traitresses, that lack reason and\nreligion!'  Then he drew his sword and said to the eunuch, 'Out\non thee, thou wicked slave!  Dost thou carry adulterous messages\nfor thy lord's wife?  By Allah, there is no good in thee, O black\nof hue and heart, O foul of face and nature!'  So saying, he\nsmote him on the neck and severed his head from his body; then,\nfolding the letter in the handkerchief, he thrust it into his\npocket and went in to his own mother and told her what had\npassed, reviling and reproaching her and saying, 'Each one of you\nis worse than the other; and by God the Great, did I not fear to\ntransgress against the rights of my father and my brother Asaad,\nI would assuredly go in to her and cut off her head, even as I\ncut off that of her eunuch!'  Then he went out in a great rage;\nand when the news reached Queen Heyat en Nufous of what he had\ndone with her messenger, she reviled him and cursed him and\nplotted perfidy against him.  He passed the night, sick with\nanger and disgust and concern, nor was meat nor drink nor sleep\nsweet to him.  Next morning, prince Asaad went out in his\nturn to rule the folk in his father's stead and sat in the\naudience-chamber, judging and administering justice, appointing\nand deposing, ordering and forbidding, giving and bestowing, till\nnear the time of afternoon-prayer, when Queen Budour sent for a\ncrafty old woman and discovering to her what was in her heart,\nwrote a letter to prince Asaad, complaining of the excess of her\nlove and longing for him, as follows: 'From her who perisheth for\npassion and love-longing to the goodliest of mankind in form and\nnature, him who is conceited of his own loveliness and glories in\nhis amorous grace, who turneth away from those that seek to\nenjoy him and refuseth to show favour unto the lowly and the\nself-abasing, him who is cruel and disdainful; from the\ndespairing lover to prince Asaad, lord of surpassing beauty and\nexcelling grace, of the moon-bright face and the flower-white\nbrow and dazzling splendour.  This is my letter to him whose love\nconsumes my body and rends my skin and my bones.  Know that my\npatience fails me and I am at a loss what to do: longing and\nwakefulness weary me and sleep and patience deny themselves to\nme; but mourning and watching stick fast to me and desire and\npassion torment me, and the extremes of languor and sickness.\nYet may my life be thy ransom, though it be thy pleasure to slay\nher who loveth thee, and may God prolong thy life and preserve\nthee from every ill!'  After this, she wrote the following\nverses:\n\n\nFate hath so ordered it that I must needs thy lover be, O thou\n     whose charms shine as the moon, when at the full is she!\nAll beauty and all eloquence thou dost in thee contain And over\n     all the world of men thou'rt bright and brave to see.\nThat thou my torturer shouldst be, I am indeed content, So but\n     thou wilt one glance bestow, as almous-deed, on me.\nHappy, thrice happy is her lot who dieth for thy love! No good is\n     there in any one that doth not cherish thee.\n\nAnd these also:\n\nTo thee, O Asaad, of the pangs of passion I complain; Have pity\n     on a slave of love, that burns for longing pain.\nHow long, I wonder, shall the hands of passion sport with me And\n     love and dole and sleeplessness consume me, heart and brain?\nWhiles do I plain me of a sea within my heart and whiles Of\n     flaming; surely, this is strange, O thou my wish and bane!\nGive o'er thy railing, censor mine, and set thyself to flee From\n     love that maketh eyes for aye with burning tears to rain.\nHow oft, for absence and desire, I cry, \"Alas, my grief!\" But all\n     my crying and lament in this my case are vain.\nThou hast with rigours made me sick, that passed my power to\n     bear: Thou'rt the physician; do thou me with what befits\n     assain.\nO thou my censurer, forbear to chide me for my case, Lest, of\n     Love's cruel malady, perdition thee attain.\n\nThen she scented the letter with odoriferous musk and winding it\nin the tresses of her hair, which were of Irak silk, with tassels\nof oblong emeralds, set with pearls and jewels, delivered it to\nthe old woman, bidding her carry it to prince Asaad.  She\nundertook the errand, to pleasure her, and going in straightway\nto the prince, found him in his closet and delivered him the\nletter; after which she stood waiting for the answer.  When Asaad\nhad read the letter and knew its purport, he wrapped it up again\nin the tresses and put it in his pocket, cursing false women;\nthen, for he was beyond measure wroth, he sprang up and drawing\nhis sword, smote the old woman on the neck and cut off her head.\nThen he went in to his mother, Queen Heyat en Nufous, whom he\nfound lying on her bed, sick for that which had betided her with\nprince Amjed, and railed at her and cursed her; after which he\nleft her and betook himself to his brother, to whom he related\nwhat had befallen him with Queen Budour, adding, 'By Allah, O my\nbrother, but that I feared to grieve thee, I had gone in to her\nforthright and smitten her head off her shoulders!'  'By Allah, O\nmy brother,' replied Amjed, 'the like of what hath befallen thee\nbefell me also yesterday with thy mother Queen Heyat en Nufous.'\nAnd he told him what had passed, adding, 'By Allah, O my brother,\nnought but respect for thee withheld me from going in to her and\ndealing with her even as I dealt with the eunuch!'  They passed\nthe rest of the night in trouble and affliction, conversing and\ncursing false women, and agreed to keep the matter secret, lest\ntheir father should hear of it and kill the two women.\n\n\nOn the morrow, the King returned with his suite from hunting and\nsat awhile in his chair of estate; after which he dismissed the\nAmirs and went up to his harem, where he found his two wives\nlying on the bed, exceeding sick.  Now they had made a plot\nagainst the two princes and concerted to do away their lives, for\nthat they had exposed themselves before them and feared to be at\ntheir mercy.  When Kemerezzeman saw them on this wise, he said to\nthem, 'What ails you?'  Whereupon they rose and kissing his\nhands, answered, perverting the case and saying, 'Know, O King,\nthat thy sons, who have been reared in thy bounty, have played\nthee false and outraged thee in the persons of thy wives.'  When\nhe heard this, the light in his eyes became darkness and his\nreason fled for the excess of his rage; then said he to them,\n'Expound this thing to me.'  'O King of the age,' answered\nBudour, 'know that these many days past thy son Asaad has been\nwont to send me letters and messages to solicit me to lewdness,\nand I still forbade him from this, but he would not be forbidden.\nWhen thou wentest forth to hunt, he rushed in on me, drunk and\nwith a drawn sword in his hand, and smiting my eunuch, slew him.\nThen he mounted on my breast, still holding the sword, and I\nfeared lest he should slay me even as he had slain my eunuch, if\nI gainsaid him; so he took his will of me by force; and now an\nthou do me not justice on him, O King, I will slay myself with my\nown hand, for I reck not of life in the world after this foul\ndeed.'  Queen Heyat en Nufous, choking with tears, told him a\nlike story respecting prince Amjed, after which she fell a-\nweeping and wailing and said, 'Except thou avenge me on him, I\nwill tell my father, King Armanous.'  Then they both wept sore\nbefore King Kemerezzeman, who, when he saw their tears and heard\ntheir words, concluded that their story was true and waxing\nbeyond measure wroth, went out, thinking to fall upon his two\nsons and put them to death.  On his way he met his father-in-law\nKing Armanous, who hearing of his return from the chase, had come\nto salute him and seeing him with the naked sword in his hand and\nthe blood dripping from his nostrils, for excess of rage,\nenquired what ailed him.  Kemerezzeman told him what his sons\nAmjed and Asaad had done and added, 'I am now going in to them,\nto slay them on the foulest wise and make of them the most\nshameful of examples.'  'O my son,' said King Armanous, (and\nindeed he too was wroth with them,) 'thou dost well, and may God\nnot bless them nor any sons that offend thus against their\nfather's honour!  But, O my son, the proverb says, \"Whoso looks\nnot to the issues, Fortune is no friend to him.\"  In any case,\nthey are thy sons, and it befits not that thou put them to death\nwith thine own hand, lest thou drink of their agony and after\nrepent of having slain them, whenas repentance will avail thee\nnothing.  Rather do thou send one of thine officers with them\ninto the desert and let him kill them there, out of thy sight,\nfor, as says the adage, \"When the eye sees not, the heart grieves\nnot.\"' Kemerezzeman saw his father-in-law's words to be just, so\nhe sheathed his sword and turning back, sat down upon his throne\nand called his treasurer, a very old man, versed in affairs and\nin the shifts of fortune, to whom he said, 'Go in to my sons\nAmjed and Asaad; bind fast their hands behind them and lay them\nin two chests and set them on a mule.  Then take horse and carry\nthem into the mid-desert, where do thou put them to death and\nfill two vials with their blood and bring them to me in haste.'\n'I hear and obey,' answered the treasurer and went out forthright\nto do his bidding.  On his way, he met the princes coming out of\nthe palace-vestibule, for they had donned their richest clothes\nand were on their way to salute their father and give him joy of\nhis safe return from the chase.  When he saw them, he laid hands\non them, saying, 'O my sons, know that I am but a slave commanded\nand that your father hath laid a commandment on me: will ye obey\nhis commandment?'  'Yes,' answered they; whereupon he bound their\nhands and laying them in the chests, set the latter on the back\nof a mule, with which he left the city and rode into the open\ncountry, till near midday, when he halted in a waste and desert\nspot and dismounting, set down the two chests.  He opened them\nand took out Amjed and Asaad; whom when he saw, he wept sore for\ntheir beauty and grace; then drawing his sword, he said to them,\n'O my lords, indeed it irks me to deal so foully by you; but I am\nto be excused in this, being but a slave commanded, for that your\nfather King Kemerezzeman hath bidden me strike off your heads.'\n'O Amir,' answered they, 'do the King's bidding, for we submit\nwith patience to that which God (to whom be ascribed might and\nmajesty) hath decreed to us; and thou art quit of our blood.'\nThen they embraced and bade each other farewell, and Asaad said\nto the treasurer, 'God on thee, O uncle, spare me the sight of my\nbrother's agony and make me not drink of his anguish, but kill me\nfirst, that it may be the easier for me.'  Amjed said the like\nand entreated the treasurer to kill him before Asaad, saying, 'My\nbrother is younger than I; so make me not taste of his anguish.'\nAnd they both wept sore, whilst the treasurer wept for their\nweeping, and they said to each other, 'All this comes of the\nmalice of those traitresses, our mothers; and this is the reward\nof our forbearance towards them.  But there is no power and no\nvirtue but in God the Most High, the Supreme!  Verily, we are His\nand unto Him we return.'  And Asaad embraced his brother, sobbing\nand repeating the following verses:\n\nO Thou to whom the sad complain, to whom the fearful flee, Thou\n     that art evermore prepared for all that is to be,\nLord, there is left me no resource but at Thy door to knock; Yea,\n     at whose portal shall I knock, if Thou be deaf to me?\nO Thou, the treasures of whose grace are in the one word \"Be,\" Be\n     favourable, I beseech, for all good is with Thee!\n\nWhen Amjed heard his brother's weeping, he wept also and pressed\nhim to his bosom, repeating the following verses:\n\nO Thou, whose bounties unto me are more than one, I trow, Whose\n     favours lavished on my head are countless as the sand,\nNo blow of all the blows of fate has ever fall'n on me, But I\n     have found Thee ready still to take me by the hand.\n\nThen said he to the treasurer, 'I conjure thee by the One God the\nOmnipotent King and Protector, kill me before my brother Asaad\nand allay the fire of my heart!'  But Asaad wept and exclaimed,\n'Not so: I will die first;' whereupon said Amjed, 'It were best\nthat we embrace each other, so the sword may fall upon us and\nkill us both at one stroke.'  So they embraced, face to face, and\nclipped each other straitly, whilst the treasurer bound them fast\nwith cords, weeping the while.  Then he drew his sword and said\nto them, 'By Allah, O my lords, it is indeed hard to me to kill\nyou!  But have ye no last wishes or injunctions that I may fulfil\nor message that I may carry?'  'We have no wish,' replied Amjed,\n'and my only injunction to thee is that thou set my brother\nundermost, that the blow may fall on me first; and when thou hast\nslain us and returnest to the King and he asks thee, \"What said\nthey before their death?\" do thou answer, \"Thy sons salute thee\nand say to thee, 'Thou knewest not if we were innocent or guilty,\nyet hast thou put us to death and hast not certified thyself of\nour guilt nor looked into our case.'\"  Then do thou repeat to him\nthese verses:\n\n\nWomen are very devils, made to work us dole and death; Refuge I\n     seek with God Most High from all their craft and scaith.\nPrime source are they of all the ills that fall upon mankind,\n     Both in the fortunes of this world and matters of the faith.\n\n'We desire of thee nought but this,' continued Amjed, 'except\nthat thou have patience with us, whilst I repeat other two lines\nto my brother.'  Then he wept sore and recited the following\nverses:\n\nExamples many, thou and I, We have in kings of days gone by,\nHow many, alack, have trod this road, Of great and small and low\n     and high!\n\nAt this the treasurer wept, till his beard was wet, whilst\nAsaad's eyes filled with tears and he in turn repeated these\nverses:\n\nFate, when the thing itself is past, afflicteth with the trace,\n     And weeping is not, of a truth, for body or form or\n     face.[FN#60]\nWhat ails the nights?[FN#61] May God blot out our error from the\n     nights And may the hand of change bewray and bring them to\n     disgrace!\nThey wreaked their malice to the full on Ibn ez Zubeir[FN#62]\n     erst, And on the House and Sacred Stone[FN#63] his safeguard\n     did embrace.\nWould God, since Kharijeh[FN#64] they took for Amrou's sacrifice,\n     They'd ransomed Ali with whome'er they would of all our\n     race!\n\nThen, with cheeks stained with thick-coming tears, he recited\nthese also:\n\nThe days and nights are fashioned for treachery and despite; Yea,\n     they are full of perfidy and knavish craft and sleight.\nThe mirage is their lustre of teeth, and to their eyes The horror\n     of all darkness the kohl that keeps them bright.\nMy crime against them (hateful their nature is!) is but The\n     sword's crime, when the sworder sets on into the fight.\n\nThen he sobbed and said:\n\nO thou that seeketh the worthless world, give ear to me and know\n     The very net of ruin it is and quarry of dole and woe;\nA stead, whom it maketh laugh to-day, to-morrow it maketh weep:\n     Out on it then for a dwelling-place, since it is even so!\nIts raids and its onsets are never done, nor can its bondsman win\n     To free himself from its iron clutch by dint of stress and\n     throe.\nHow many an one in its vanities hath gloried and taken pride,\n     Till froward and arrogant thus he grew and did all bounds\n     o'ergo!\nThen did she[FN#65] turn him the buckler's back and give him to\n     drink therein Full measure and set her to take her wreak of\n     the favours she did show.\nFor know that her blows fall sudden and swift and unawares,\n     though long The time of forbearance be and halt the coming\n     of fate and slow.\nSo look to thyself, lest life in the world pass idle and\n     profitless by, And see that thou fail not of taking thought\n     to the end of all below.\nCast loose from the chains of the love and the wish of the world\n     and thou shalt find Guidance and help unto righteousness and\n     peace of heart, I trow.\n\nWhen he had made an end of these verses, he clipped his brother\nin his arms, till they seemed as it were one body, and the\ntreasurer, raising his sword, was about to strike them, when,\nbehold, his horse took fright at the wind of his upraised hand\nand breaking its tether, fled into the desert.  Now the horse was\nworth a thousand dinars and on his back was a splendid saddle,\nworth much money: so the treasurer threw down his sword, in\ngreat concern, and ran after him, to catch him.  The horse\ngalloped on, snorting and neighing and pawing the earth in his\nfright, till he raised a cloud of dust, and presently coming to a\nwood, fled into the midst of it, whither the treasurer followed\nhim.  Now there was in this wood a terrible lion, foul of face,\nwith eyes that cast forth sparks; his look was grim and his\naspect struck terror into men's souls.  He heard the noise made\nby the horse and came out to see what was to do.  Presently the\ntreasurer turned and saw the lion making towards him; but found\nno way of escape, nor had he his sword with him.  So he said in\nhimself, 'There is no power and no virtue but in God the Most\nHigh, the Supreme!  This stress is come upon me because of Amjed\nand Asaad; and indeed this journey was unblest from the first!'\nMeanwhile Amjed and Asaad were grievously oppressed by the heat\nand grew sore athirst, so that their tongues hung out and they\ncried for succour; but none came to their relief and they said,\n'Would God we were dead and at peace from this torment!  But we\nknow not whither the treasurer's horse hath fled, that he has\ngone and left us bound.  If he would but come back and kill us,\nit were easier to us than to suffer this torture.'  'O my\nbrother,' said Asaad, 'be patient and the relief of God (blessed\nand exalted be He) will surely come to us; for the horse ran not\naway save of His favour towards us, and nought irks us but this\nthirst.'  So saying, he stretched himself and strained right and\nleft, till he burst his bonds; then he unbound his brother and\ntaking up the Amir's sword, said, 'By Allah, we will not go\nhence, till we know what is come of him!'  So they followed the\ntrack, till it led them to the wood and they said to one another,\n'Of a surety, the horse and the treasurer have not overgone this\nwood.'  Quoth Asaad, 'Stay thou here, whilst I enter the wood and\nsearch it.'  'I will not let thee go in alone,' answered Amjed.\n'We will both go in; so if we escape, we shall escape together,\nand if we perish, we shall perish together.'  So they entered\nboth and found the lion standing over the treasurer, who lay like\na sparrow in his grip, calling upon God for help and lifting his\nhands to heaven.  When Amjed saw this, he took the sword and\nrunning to the lion, smote him between the eyes and laid him dead\non the ground.  The Amir arose, marvelling at this, and seeing\nAmjed and Asaad his lord's sons, standing there, cast himself at\ntheir feet and exclaimed, 'By Allah, O my lords, it were foul\nwrong in me to put you to death!  May the man never be who would\nkill you!  Indeed, I will ransom you with my life.'  Then he rose\nand embracing them, enquired how they had loosed their bonds and\ncome thither, whereupon they told him how the bonds of one of\nthem had fallen loose and he had unbound the other, that they\nmight quit their intent, and how they had followed his track till\nthey came upon him.  He thanked them for their deed and went with\nthem forth of the wood, where they said to him, 'O uncle, do our\nfather's bidding.'  'God forbid,' answered he, 'that I should\ndraw near to you with hurt!  I mean to take your clothes and\nclothe you with mine; then will I fill two vials with the lion's\nblood and go back to the King and tell him I have put you to\ndeath.  But as for you, fare ye forth into the lands, for God's\nearth is wide; and know, O my lords, that it irks me to part from\nyou.'  At this, they all fell a-weeping; then the two youths put\noff their clothes and the treasurer covered them with his own.\nMoreover, he filled two vials with the lion's blood and making\ntwo parcels of the princes' clothes, set them before him on his\nhorse's back.  Then he took leave of them and making his way back\nto the city, went in to King Kemerezzeman and kissed the earth\nbefore him.  The King saw him pale and troubled and deeming this\ncame of the slaughter of the two princes (though in truth it came\nof his adventure with the lion) rejoiced and said to him, 'Hast\nthou done the business?'  'Yes, O our lord,' answered the\ntreasurer and gave him the two parcels of clothes and the two\nvials of blood.  'How bore they themselves,' asked the King, 'and\ndid they give thee any charge?'  'I found them patient and\nresigned to their fate,' answered the treasurer; 'and they said\nto me, \"Verily, our father is excusable; bear him our salutation\nand say to him, 'Thou art quit of our blood;' and repeat to him\nthe following verses:\n\nWomen are very devils, made to work us dole and death; Refuge I\n     seek with God Most High from all their craft and scaith.\nPrime source are they of all the ills that fall upon mankind,\n     Both in the fortunes of this world and matters of the\n     faith.\"'\n\nWhen the King heard this, he bowed his head a long while and knew\nthis to mean that they had wrongfully been put to death.  Then he\nbethought himself of the perfidy of women and the calamities\nbrought about by them, and opening the two parcels fell to\nturning over his sons' clothes and weeping.  Presently, he found\nin the pocket of his son Asaad's clothes a letter in Queen\nBudour's hand, enclosing the tresses of her hair, and reading it,\nknew that the prince had been falsely accused.  Then he searched\nAmjed's clothes and found in his pocket a letter in the\nhandwriting of Queen Heyat en Nufous, enclosing the tresses of\nher hair; so he opened and read it and knew that Amjed also had\nbeen wronged; whereupon he beat hand upon hand and exclaimed,\n'There is no power and no virtue but in God!  I have slain my\nsons unjustly.'  And he buffeted his face, crying out, 'Alas, my\nsons!  Alas, my long grief!'  Then he bade build two tombs in one\nhouse, which he styled 'House of Lamentations,' and let grave\nthereon his sons' names; and he threw himself on Amjed's tomb,\nweeping and groaning and lamenting, and repeated these verses:\n\nO moon, that hast set beneath the earth for aye, For whose loss\n     weep the shining stars of the sky,\nO wand, after whom no more shall the flexile grace Of the\n     willow-like bending shape enchant the eye,\nMy sight I've bereft of thee, of my jealousy, And ne'er shall I\n     see thee again, till I come to die.\nI'm drowned in the sea of my tears, for sheer unrest; Indeed, for\n     sleepless sorrow in hell am I.\n\nThen he threw himself on Asaad's tomb and recited the following\nverses, whilst the tears poured from his eyes:\n\nFain had I shared with thee, dear heart, in death and ill; But\n     God, that ordereth all, willed other than my will.\nAll that I see, my dole makes black, whilst from my eyes All\n     black I've blotted out with weeping all my fill.[FN#66]\nI weep and never stint; mine eyes run never dry; My entrails\n     ulcered are and blood and tears distil.\nSore, sore it irketh me to see thee in a place[FN#67] Where\n     slaves and kings alike foregather, will or nill.\n\nThen he forsook his friends and intimates, and denying himself to\nhis women and his family, shut himself up in the House of\nLamentations, where he passed his time in weeping for his sons.\n\nMeanwhile, Amjed and Asaad fared on into the desert a whole\nmonth's journey, eating of the fruits of the earth and drinking\nof the rain-pools, till their travel brought them to a mountain\nof black stone, where the road divided in two, one skirting the\nfoot of the mountain and the other leading to its summit.  They\ntook the former way, for fear of thirst, and followed it five\ndays, but saw no end to it and were overcome with weariness,\nbeing unused to walking in mountains or elsewhere.  At last,\ndespairing of coming to the end of the road, they retraced their\nsteps and taking the other, that led over the mountain, followed\nit all that day, till nightfall, when Asaad, weary with much\ntravel, said to Amjed, 'O my brother, I can go no farther, for I\nam exceeding weak.'  'Courage,' replied Amjed; 'may be God will\nsend us relief.'  So they walked on part of the night, till the\ndarkness closed in upon them, when Asaad became beyond measure\nweary and saying, 'O my brother, I am worn out and spent with\nwalking,' threw himself on the ground and wept.  Amjed took him\nin his arms and fared on with him, halting bytimes to rest, till\nbreak of day, when they came to the mountain-top and found there\na stream of running water and by it a pomegranate-tree and a\nprayer-niche.  They could hardly believe their eyes, but, sitting\ndown by the spring, drank of its water and ate of the fruit of\nthe tree; after which they lay down and slept till sunrise, when\nthey washed in the spring and eating of the pomegranates, slept\nagain till the time of afternoon-prayer.  Then they thought to\ncontinue their journey, but Asaad could not walk, for his feet\nwere swollen.  So they abode there three days, till they were\nrested, after which they set out again and fared on over the\nmountain days and nights, well-nigh perished for thirst, till\nthey came in sight of a city afar off, at which they rejoiced and\nmade towards it.  When they drew near it, they thanked God the\nMost High and Amjed said to Asaad, 'O my brother, sit here,\nwhilst I go to yonder city and see what and whose it is and where\nwe are in God's wide world, that we may know through what lands\nwe have passed in crossing this mountain, whose skirts if we had\nfollowed, we had not reached this city in a whole year: so\npraised be God for safety!'  'By Allah,' replied Asaad, 'none\nshall go but myself, and may I be thy ransom!  If thou leave me,\nI shall imagine a thousand things and suffer tortures of anxiety\non thine account, for I cannot brook thine absence from me.'  'Go\nthen,' rejoined Amjed, 'and do not tarry.'  So Asaad took money\nand leaving his brother awaiting him, descended the mountain and\nfared on, till he entered the city.  As he passed through the\nstreets, he met an old man, with a beard that flowed down upon\nhis breast and was parted in twain; he bore a walking-staff in\nhis hand and was richly clad, with a great red turban on his\nhead.  When Asaad saw him, he wondered at his mien and habit;\nnevertheless, he went up to him and saluting him, enquired the\nway to the market.  The old man smiled in his face and said, 'O\nmy son, meseems thou art a stranger?'  'Yes,' answered Asaad; 'I\nam a stranger.'  'O my son,' rejoined the other, 'verily, thou\ngladdenest our country with thy presence and makest thine own\nland desolate by reason of thine absence.  What wantest thou of\nthe market?'  'O uncle,' replied Asaad, 'I have an elder brother,\nwith whom I have journeyed these three months, for we come from a\nfar country.  When we sighted this city, I left my brother in the\nmountain and came hither, purposing to buy food and what else and\nreturn therewith to him, that we might feed thereon.'  'Rejoice\nin all good, O my son!' said the old man.  'Know that to-day I\ngive a marriage-feast, to which I have bidden many guests, and I\nhave made ready great plenty of the best and most delicious meats\nthat the heart can desire.  So, if thou wilt come home with me, I\nwill give thee freely all thou lackest, without price.  Moreover,\nI will teach thee the ways of the city; and praised be God, O my\nson, that thou hast fallen in with me and none other!'  'As thou\nwilt,' answered Asaad; 'but make haste, for my brother awaits me\nand his whole heart is with me.'  So the old man took Asaad by\nthe hand, smiling in his face and saying, 'Glory be to Him who\nhath delivered thee from the people of this city!'  Then he\ncarried him to a narrow lane and entering a spacious house,\nbrought him into a saloon, wherein were forty old men, seated in\na circle about a lighted fire, to which they were doing worship\nand prostrating themselves.  When Asaad saw this he was\nconfounded and his flesh quaked, though he knew not what they\nwere; and the old man said to them, 'O elders of the fire, how\nblessed is this day!'  Then he cried out, saying, 'Ho, Ghezban!'\nWhereupon there came out to him a tall black slave of forbidding\naspect, grim-visaged and flat-nosed.  The old man made a sign to\nhim, and he bound Asaad straitly; after which the old man said\nto him, 'Bear him to the dungeon under the earth and bid my\nslave-girl Kewam torture him day and night and give him a cake of\nbread to eat morning and evening, against the time come of the\nvoyage to the Blue Sea and the Mountain of Fire, when we will\nslaughter him on the mountain as a sacrifice.'  So the black\ncarried him out at another door and raising a flag in the floor,\ndiscovered a flight of twenty steps leading to a chamber under\nthe earth, into which he descended with him and laying his\nfeet in irons, committed him to the slave-girl and went away.\nMeanwhile, the old men said to one another, 'When the day of\nthe Festival of the Fire comes, we will sacrifice him on the\nmountain, as a propitiatory offering to the Fire.'  Presently the\ndamsel went down to him and beat him grievously, till the blood\nstreamed from his sides and he fainted away; after which she set\nat his head a cake of bread and a cruse of brackish water and\nwent away and left him.  In the middle of the night, he revived\nand found himself bound and sore with beating: so he wept\nbitterly and recalling his former estate of ease and honour and\nlordship and dominion, groaned and lamented and repeated the\nfollowing verses:\n\nHalt by the ruins of the house and question of our fate Nor think\n     we sojourn in the land, as in our first estate.\nFortune, the sunderer, hath wrought the severance of our loves;\n     Yet doth our enemies' despite against us nought abate.\nA filthy cockatrice is set to torture me with whips, Whose breast\n     against me is fulfilled with rancour and with hate.\nBut haply God shall yet reknit our severed loves again And turn\n     our enemies from us with vengeance stern and strait.\n\nThen he put out his hand and finding the bread and water at his\nhead, ate enough to keep life in him and drank a little water,\nbut could get no sleep for the swarms of bugs and lice.  As soon\nas it was day, the slave-girl came down to him and changed his\nclothes, which were drenched with blood and stuck to him, so that\nhis skin came off with the shirt; wherefore he shrieked aloud and\ncried, 'Alas!' and said, 'O my God, if this be Thy pleasure,\nincrease it upon me!  O Lord, verily Thou art not unmindful of\nhim that oppresses me: do Thou then avenge me upon him!'  And he\ngroaned and repeated the following verses:\n\nLord, I submit myself to that Thou dost decree, Contented to\n     endure, if but it pleasure Thee;\nTo suffer at Thy will with patience nor complain, Though I be\n     cast to burn on coals of tamarisk-tree.[FN#68]\nMine enemies oppress and torture me; but Thou With benefits\n     belike shall 'quite and comfort me.\nFar be 't from Thee to let th' oppressor go unscathed; Thou art\n     my hope and stay, O Lord of Destiny!\n\n\nAnd what another says:\n\nAvert thy face from thought-taking and care And trust to fate to\n     order thine affair;\nFor many a weary and a troublous thing Is, in its issue,\n     solaceful and fair.\nThat which was strait is oftentimes made wide And straitened\n     that, which easy was whilere.\nGod orders all, according to His will; Gainsay Him not in what He\n     doth prepare,\nBut trust in happy fortune near at hand, Wherein thou shalt\n     forget the woes that were.\n\nThen the slave-girl beat him till he fainted away and throwing\nhim a cake of bread and a cruse of brackish water, went away and\nleft him sad and lonely, bound in chains of iron, with the blood\nstreaming from his sides  and far from those he loved.  So he\ncalled to mind his brother and his former high estate and\nrepeated the following verses, shedding floods of tears the\nwhile:\n\nHow long wilt thou wage war on me, O Fate, and bear away My\n     brethren from me?  Hold thy hand and spare awhile, I pray!\nIs it not time, O thou whose heart is as the rock, that thou My\n     long estrangement and my dole shouldst pity and allay?\nIll hast thou wrought to those I love and made my foes exult With\n     all that thou hast wreaked on me of ruin and dismay.\nYea, for the pains he sees me brook of exile and desire And\n     loneliness, my foeman's heart is solaceful and gay.\nThou'rt not content with what is fallen on me of bitter dole, Of\n     loss of friends and swollen eyes, affliction and affray.\nBut I must lie and rot, to boot, in prison strait and dour, Where\n     nought but gnawing of my hands I have for help and stay,\nAnd tears that shower in torrents down, as from the rain-charged\n     clouds, And fire of yearning, never quenched, that rages\n     night and day,\nAnd memory and longing pain and melancholy thought And sobs and\n     sighs and groans and cries of \"Woe!\" and \"Wellaway!\"\nPassion and soul-destroying grief I suffer, and unto Desire, that\n     knoweth not relent nor end, am fallen a prey.\nNo kindly soul is found to have compassion on my case And with\n     his visits and his grace my misery allay.\nLives there a true and tender friend, who doth compassionate My\n     sickness and my long unrest, that unto him I may\nMake moan of all that I endure for dole and drearihead And of my\n     sleepless eyes, oppressed of wakefulness alway?\nMy night in torments is prolonged; I burn, without reprieve, In\n     flames of heart-consuming care that rage in me for aye.\nThe bug and flea do drink my blood, even as one drinks of wine,\n     Poured by the hand of damask-lipped and slender-waisted may.\nThe body of me, amongst the lice, is as an orphan's good, That in\n     an unjust Cadi's hands doth dwindle and decay.\nMy dwelling-place is in a tomb, three scanty cubits wide, Wherein\n     in shackles and in bonds I languish night and day.\nMy tears my wine are and my chains my music: my dessert Woeworthy\n     thought and cares the bed whereon myself I lay.\n\nMeanwhile his brother abode, awaiting him, till mid-day, but he\nreturned not: whereupon Amjed's heart fluttered and the tears\nwelled from his eyes.  The pangs of severance were sore upon him\nand he wept sore, exclaiming, 'Alas, my brother!  Alas, my\ncompanion!  Alas, my grief!  I fear me we are separated!'  Then\nhe descended the mountain, with the tears running down his\ncheeks, and entering the city, made for the market.  He asked\nthe folk the name of the city and of its people, and they said,\n'This is called the City of the Magians, and its people serve\nthe Fire, not the Omnipotent King.'  Then he enquired of the\nCity of Ebony and they answered, 'It is a year's journey\nthither by land and six months' by sea: it was governed erst by\na King called Armanous, but he took to son-in-law a prince called\nKemerezzeman, distinguished for justice and loyalty, munificence\nand benevolence, and made him king in his stead.'  When Amjed\nheard tell of his father, he groaned and wept and lamented and knew\nnot whither to go.  However, he bought food and carried it with him,\ntill he came to a retired spot, where he sat down, thinking to\neat: but, recalling his brother, he fell a-weeping and ate but a\nmorsel to stay his stomach, and that against his will.  Then he\nrose and walked about the city, seeking news of his brother, till\nhe saw a Muslim, a tailor, sitting in his shop; so he sat down by\nhim and told him his story; whereupon quoth the tailor, 'If he\nhave fallen into the hands of any of the Magians, thou shalt\nhardly see him again: yet it may be God will reunite you. But\nthou, O my brother,' added he, 'wilt thou lodge with me?' 'Yes,'\nanswered Amjed, and the tailor rejoiced at this.  So Amjed abode\nwith him many days, what while the tailor comforted him and\nexhorted him to patience and taught him his craft, till he became\nexpert.  One day, he went forth to the sea-shore and washed his\nclothes; after which he entered the bath and put on clean\nraiment.  Then he walked about the streets, to divert himself,\nand presently fell in with a woman of surpassing beauty and\nsymmetry, unequalled for grace and loveliness.  When she saw him,\nshe raised her face-veil and winked to him and ogled him,\nreciting the following verses:\n\nAfar, I saw thee coming and cast mine eyes down straight, As if,\n     loveling slender, thou wert the very sun.\nIndeed, thou art the fairest of all beholden; yea, Even than\n     thyself thou'rt fairer, since yesterday was done.\nWere beauty but allotted, to every one his due, One-fifth of it\n     were Joseph's or but a part of one,\nAnd all the rest were surely thine own and only thine; May all\n     men be thy ransom, yea, every mother's son!\n\nWhen he heard this, his heart inclined to her and the  hands of\nlove sported with him: so he winked to her in  answer and\nrepeated the following verses:\n\nOver the rose of the cheek, the thorns of the eyelashes rise; So\n     who shall adventure himself to gather the flowery prize?\nLift not your hands to the rose, for long have the lashes waged\n     war And poured on us battle, because we lifted to it-ward\n     our eyes.\nTell her the tyrant who plays and yet is temptation itself,\n     (Though still more seductive she'd be, if she dealt but in\n     loyaller wise),\nI see that, for beauty like thine, exposure's the surest of\n     guards, For the veiling thy face but augments its seductions\n     and adds to our sighs;\nLike the sun, on whose visage undimmed the eye still refuses to\n     look, And yet we may gaze at our ease, when the thinnest of\n     clouds o'er it lies.\nThe honey's protected, forsooth, by the sting of the bees of the\n     hive: So question the guards of the camp why they stay us in\n     this our emprise.\nIf my slaughter be what they desire, let them put off their\n     rancours and stand From between us and leave her to deal\n     with me and my life at her guise;\nFor, I wot, not so deadly are they, when they set on a foe with\n     their swords, As the eyes of the fair with the mole, when\n     her glances upon us she plies.\n\nAt this she sighed deeply and signing to him again, repeated the\nfollowing verses:\n\n'Tis thou that hast trodden the road of aversion and coyness; not\n     I Vouchsafe me the promised delight, for the time of\n     fulfilment draws nigh.\nO thou that mak'st morning to dawn with the lustre and light of\n     thy brows And eke, with thy brow-locks unloosed, the night\n     to sink down from the sky,\nThou hast, with an idol's asp\u00e9ct, seduced me and made me thy\n     slave And hast stirred me up troubles galore in many a\n     season past by.\nAnd yet it is just that my heart with the ardour of passion\n     should burn, For the fire is their due who adore aught other\n     than God the Most High.\nThou sellest the like of myself for nothing, yea, free, without\n     price; If needs thou must sell, and no help, take a price,\n     then, of those that would buy.\n\nWhen he heard this, he said to her, 'Wilt thou come to my lodging\nor shall I go with thee to thine?'  At this, she hung her head\nbashfully and repeated the words of the Most High, 'Men shall\nhave precedence over women, for that God hath preferred these\nover those.'[FN#69] By this, Amjed understood that she wished to\ngo with him and felt himself bounden to find a place wherein to\nreceive her, but was ashamed to carry her to the house of his\nhost, the tailor.  So he walked on and she followed him from\nstreet to street, till she was tired and said to him, 'O my lord,\nwhere is thy house?'  'But a little way before us,' answered he.\nThen he turned aside into a handsome street, followed by the\nyoung lady, and walked on, till he came to the end, when he found\nit had no issue and exclaimed, 'There is no power and no virtue\nbut in God the Most High, the Supreme!'  Then, raising his eyes,\nhe saw, at the upper end of the street, a great door, with two\nstone benches; but it was locked.  So he sat down on one of the\nbenches and the lady on the other; and she said to him, 'O my\nlord, wherefore waitest thou?'  He bowed his head awhile, then\nraised it and answered, 'I am waiting for my servant, who has the\nkey: for I bade him make me ready meat and drink and flowers for\nthe wine-service against my return from the bath.'  But he said\nin himself, 'Belike she will grow tired of waiting and go about\nher business, leaving me here, when I will go my own way.'\nHowever, when she was weary of waiting, she said, 'O my lord, thy\nservant tarries long; and here are we waiting in the street.'\nAnd she took a stone and went up to the lock.  'Be not in haste,'\nsaid Amjed; 'but have patience till the servant comes.'  However,\nshe hearkened not to him, but smote the lock with the stone and\nbroke it in half, whereupon the door opened.  Quoth he, 'What\npossessed thee to do this?'  'Pooh, pooh, my lord!' answered she.\n'What matters it?  Is not the house thine?'  'Yes,' said he; 'but\nthere was no need to break the lock.'  Then she entered, leaving\nAmjed confounded and knowing not what to do for fear of the\npeople of the house; but she said to him, 'Why dost thou not\nenter, O light of mine eyes and darling of my heart?'  'I hear\nand obey,' answered he; 'but my servant tarries long upon me and\nI know not if he have done aught of what I bade him or not.'  So\nsaying, he entered, sore in fear of the people of the house, and\nfound himself in a handsome saloon, full of buffets and niches\nand settles, furnished with stuffs of silk and brocade.  It had\nfour raised recesses, each facing other, and in the midst was a\nfountain of costly fashion, on whose margin stood a covered tray\n(of meats), with a leather table-cloth hanging up and dishes set\nwith jewels, full of fruits and sweet-scented flowers.  Hard by\nstood drinking vessels and a candlestick with a candle therein.\nThe place was full of precious stuffs, and therein were chests\nand stools set, on each of which latter lay a parcel of clothes\nand a purse full of gold and silver.  The floor was paved with\nmarble and the house bore witness in every part to its owner's\nfortune.  When Amjed saw all this, he was confounded and said in\nhimself, 'I am a lost man!  Verily, we are God's and to God we\nreturn!'  As for the lady, she was transported at what she saw\nand said to him, 'By Allah, O my lord, thy servant has not failed\nof his duty; for see, he has swept the place and cooked the meat\nand set on the fruit; and indeed I come at the best of times.'\nBut he paid no heed to her, his heart being taken up with fear of\nthe people of the house; and she said, 'Fie, O my lord, O my\nheart!  What ails thee to stand thus?'  Then she sighed and\ngiving him a kiss, that sounded like the cracking of a walnut,\nsaid, 'O my lord, and thou have bidden other than me, I will gird\nmy middle and serve her and thee.'  Amjed laughed from an\nangerful heart and sat down, panting and saying in himself,\n'Alack, how I shall smart for it, when the owner of the house\nreturns!'  She seated herself by him and fell to jesting and\nlaughing, whilst he sat careful and frowning, thinking a thousand\nthoughts and saying in himself, 'The master of the house will\nsurely come and what shall I say to him?  He will assuredly kill\nme without mercy.'  Presently, she rose and tucking up her\nsleeves, took a table, on which she laid the cloth and the tray\nof food; then set it before Amjed and began to eat, saying, 'Eat,\nO my lord.'  So he came forward and ate; but the food was not\npleasant to him and he ceased not to look towards the door, till\nthe lady had eaten her fill, when she took away the meats and\nsetting on the dessert, fell to eating of the dried fruits.  Then\nshe brought the wine-service and opening the jar, filled a cup\nand gave it to Amjed, who took it, saying in himself, 'Alas!\nwhat will become of me, when the master of the house comes and\nsees me!'  Presently, as he sat, with the cup in his hand and his\neyes fixed on the vestibule, in came the master of the house, who\nwas one of the chief men of the city, being Master of the Horse\nto the King.  He had fitted up this house for his privy\npleasures, that he might make merry therein and be private with\nwhom he would, and had that day bidden one whom he loved and had\nmade this entertainment for him.  When, therefore, this man\n(whose name was Behadir and who was a kindly, liberal and open-\nhanded man) came thither and found the door open and the lock\nbroken, he entered softly and putting in his head at the door of\nthe saloon, saw Amjed and the lady sitting, with the dish of\nfruit and the wine-jar before them.  Amjed at that moment had the\ncup in his hand and his face turned to the door; and when his\neyes met Behadir's, he turned pale and trembled in every nerve.\nBehadir, seeing his trouble, signed to him, with his finger on\nhis lips, as who should say, 'Be silent and come hither to me.'\nSo he set down the cup and rose, whereupon quoth the lady,\n'Whither away?'  He shook his head and signing to her that he\nwished to make water, went out into the corridor, barefoot.  When\nhe saw Behadir, he knew him for the master of the house; so he\nhastened to him and kissing his hands, said to him, 'God on thee,\nO my lord, before thou do me any hurt, hear what I have to say.'\nThen he told him who he was and what caused him leave his native\nland and royal state, and how he had not entered his house of his\nfree will, but that it was the lady who had broken the lock and\ndone all this.  When Behadir heard his story and knew that he was\na king's son, he inclined to him and taking compassion on him,\nsaid to him, 'O Amjed, hearken to me and do what I bid thee, and\nI will ensure thee safety from that thou fearest; but, if thou\ncross me, I will kill thee.'  'Command me as thou wilt,' answered\nAmjed.  'I will not gainsay thee in aught, for I am the freedman\nof thy bounty.'  'Then go back forthright into the saloon,'\nrejoined Behadir, 'and sit down in thy place and take thine ease.\nI will presently come in to thee, and when thou seest me (now my\nname is Behadir) do thou revile me and rail at me, saying, \"Why\nhast thou tarried till now?\"  And accept no excuse from me, but\nrise and beat me; and if thou spare me, I will do away thy life.\nEnter now and make merry and whatsoever thou seekest of me, I\nwill bring thee forthwith.  So pass the night as thou wilt and on\nthe morrow go thy way.  This in honour of thy strangerhood, for I\nlove strangers and hold myself bounden to do them honour.'  So\nAmjed kissed his hand and returning to the saloon, with his face\nclad in its native white and red, said to the lady, 'O my\nmistress, the place is gladdened by thy presence, and this is\nindeed a blessed night.'  'Verily,' said she, 'this is a\nwonderful change in thee, that thou now welcomest me so\ncordially!'  'By Allah, O my lady,' answered he, 'methought my\nservant Behadir had robbed me of some necklaces of jewels, worth\nten thousand dinars each; however, when I went out but now, in\nconcern for this, I sought for them and found them in their\nplace.  I know not why the knave tarries thus, and needs must I\npunish him for it.'  She was satisfied with his answer, and they\ndrank and sported and made merry, till near upon sundown, when\nBehadir came in to them, having changed his clothes and girt his\nmiddle and put on shoes, such as are worn of servants.  He\nsaluted and kissed the earth, then clasped his hands behind him\nand stood, with his head hanging down, as one who confesses to a\nfault.  Amjed looked at him with angry eyes and said, 'Why hast\nthou tarried till now, O most pestilent of slaves?'  'O my lord,'\nanswered Behadir, 'I was busy washing my clothes and knew not of\nthy being here; for thou hadst appointed me for nightfall and not\nfor the daytime.'  But Amjed cried out at him, saying, 'Thou\nliest, O vilest of slaves!  By Allah, I must beat thee!'  So he\nrose and laying Behadir on the ground, took a stick and beat him\ngingerly: but the lady sprang up and snatching the stick from his\nhand, laid on to Behadir so lustily, that the tears ran from his\neyes and he ground his teeth together and called out for succour;\nwhilst Amjed cried out to the lady to hold her hand and she\nanswered, 'Let me stay my anger on him;' till at last he snatched\nthe stick from her hand and pushed her away.  Behadir arose and\nwiping away his tears, waited upon them awhile; after which he\nswept the hall and lighted the lamps; but, as often as he went in\nand out, the lady railed at him and cursed him, till Amjed was\nwroth with her and said, 'For God's sake, leave my servant; he is\nnot used to this.'  Then they sat eating and drinking, whilst\nBehadir waited upon them, till midnight, when the latter, weary\nwith service and beating, fell asleep in the midst of the hall\nand snored and snorted; whereupon the lady, who was heated with\nwine, said to Amjed, 'Arise, take the sword that hangs yonder and\ncut off this slave's head, or I will be the death of thee.'\n'What possesses thee to kill my slave?' asked Amjed; and she\nanswered, 'Our delight will not be fulfilled but by his death.\nIf thou wilt not kill him, I will do it myself.'  'For God's\nsake,' cried Amjed, 'do not this thing!'  'It must be,' replied\nshe and taking down the sword, drew it and made at Behadir to\nkill him; but Amjed said in himself, 'This man hath entreated us\ncourteously and sheltered us and done us kindness and made\nhimself my servant: and shall we requite him by killing him?\nThis shall never be.  Then he said to the lady, 'If my slave must\nbe killed, better I should do it than thou.'  So saying, he took\nthe sword from her and raising his hand, smote her on the neck\nand made her head fly from her body.  It fell upon Behadir, who\nawoke and sitting up, saw Amjed standing by him, with the\nbloodstained sword in his hand, and the damsel lying dead.  He\nenquired what had passed, and Amjed told him what she had said,\nadding, 'Nothing would serve her but she must kill thee; and this\nis her reward.'  Behadir rose and kissing the prince's hand, said\nto him, 'Would God thou hadst spared her!  But now there is\nnothing for it but to rid us of her forthright, before the day\nbreak.'  So saying, he wrapped the body in a mantle and laying it\nin a basket, said to Amjed, 'Thou art a stranger here and knowest\nno one: so sit thou here and await my return.  If I come back, I\nwill assuredly do thee great good service and use my endeavour to\nhave news of thy brother; but if I return not by sunrise, know\nthat all is over with me; in which case the house and all it\ncontains are thine, and peace be on thee.'  Then he shouldered\nthe basket and going forth, made for the sea, thinking to throw\nit therein: but as he drew near the shore, he turned and found\nhimself surrounded by the chief of the police and his officers.\nThey knew him and wondered and opened the basket, in which they\nfound the slain woman.  So they seized him and laid him in irons\ntill the morning, when they carried him and the basket to the\nKing and acquainted the latter with the case.  The King was sore\nenraged and said to Behadir, 'Out on thee!  This is not the first\ntime thou hast slain folk and cast them into the sea and taken\ntheir goods.  How many murders hast thou done ere this?'  Behadir\nhung his head, and the King cried out at him, saying, 'Woe to\nthee!  Who killed this young lady?'  'O my lord,' answered\nBehadir, 'I killed her, and there is no power and no virtue but\nin God the Most High, the Supreme!'  At this the King's anger\nredoubled and he commanded to hang him.  So the hangman and\nthe chief of the police went down with him, by the King's\ncommandment, and paraded him through the streets and markets of\nthe town, whilst a crier forewent them, bidding all the folk to\nthe execution of Behadir, the King's Master of the Horse.\n\nMeanwhile, Amjed awaited his host's return till the day broke and\nthe sun rose, and when he saw that he came not, he exclaimed,\n'There is no power and no virtue but in God the Most High, the\nSupreme!  I wonder what is come of him?'  As he sat musing, he\nheard the crier proclaiming aloud Behadir's sentence and bidding\nthe people to his hanging at midday; whereat he wept and\nexclaimed, 'Verily, we are God's and to Him we return!  He means\nto sacrifice himself unjustly for my sake, when it was I killed\nher.  By Allah, this shall never be!'  Then he went out and\nshutting the door after him, hurried through the streets, till he\novertook Behadir, when he accosted the chief of the police and\nsaid to him, 'O my lord, put not Behadir to death, for he is\ninnocent.  By Allah, none killed her but I.'  When the Master of\nthe Police heard this, he took them both and carrying them before\nthe King, told him what Amjed had said; whereupon he looked at\nthe prince and said to him, 'Didst thou kill the young lady?'\n'Yes,' answered he, and the King said, 'Tell me why thou killedst\nher, and speak the truth.'  'O King,' replied Amjed, 'indeed, it\nis a rare event and a strange matter that hath befallen me: were\nit graven with needles on the corners of the eye, it would serve\nas a lesson to whoso can profit by admonition.'  Then he told him\nhis whole story and all that had befallen him and his brother,\nfirst and last; whereat the King wondered greatly and said to\nhim, 'O youth, I know thee now to be excusable.  Wilt thou be my\nVizier?'  'I hear and obey,' answered Amjed; whereupon the King\nbestowed magnificent dresses of honour on him and Behadir and\ngave him a handsome house, with servants and officers and all\nthings needful, appointing him stipends and allowances and\nbidding him make search for his brother Asaad.  So Amjed sat down\nin the seat of office and governed and did justice and invested\nand deposed and gave and took.  Moreover, he sent out a crier to\ncry his brother throughout the city, and he made proclamation in\nthe streets and markets many days, but heard no news of Asaad nor\nhappened on any trace of him.\n\nMeanwhile, the Magians ceased not to torture Asaad, night and\nday, for a whole year's space, till the day of their festival\ndrew near, when the old man (whose name was Behram) made ready\nfor the voyage and fitted out a ship for himself.  When all was\nready, he laid Asaad in a chest and locking it, transported it to\nthe ship.  As fate would have it, Amjed was at that very time\nstanding looking upon the sea; and when he saw the men carrying\nthe chest and other gear on board the ship, his heart throbbed\nand he called to his servants to bring him his horse.  Then,\nmounting with a company of his officers, he rode down to the port\nand halted before the Magian's ship, which he commanded his men\nto search.  So they boarded the vessel and searched it in every\npart, but found nothing and returned and told Amjed, who mounted\nagain and rode back to his palace, with a troubled mind.  As he\nentered, he cast his eyes on the wall and saw written thereon the\nfollowing verses, which when he read, he called to mind his\nbrother and wept:\n\nBelov\u00e9d ones, for all you're absent from my sight, Yet in my\n     heart and thought you have your sojourn still.\nYou leave me here to pine and languish for desire; You rob mine\n     eyes of sleep and sleep yourselves your fill.\n\nMeanwhile, Behram embarked and shouted to his crew to make sail\nin all haste.  So they loosed the sails and departing, fared on\nwithout ceasing many days and nights; and every other day, Behram\ntook out Asaad and gave him a little bread and water, till they\ndrew near the Mountain of Fire, when there came out on them a\ncontrary wind and the sea rose against them, so that they were\ndriven out of their course into strange waters and came in sight\nof a city builded upon the shore, with a citadel whose windows\noverlooked the sea.  Now the ruler of this city was a queen\ncalled Merjaneh, and the captain said to Behram, 'O my lord, we\nhave strayed from our course and come to the island of Queen\nMerjaneh, who is a devout Muslim; and if she know that we are\nMagians, she will take our ship and slay us to the last man.  Yet\nneeds must we put in here to rest [and refit].'  Quoth Behram,\n'Let us clothe this Muslim we have with us in a slave's habit and\ncarry him ashore with us, so that, when the queen sees him, she\nwill think and say,  \"This is a slave.\"  As for me, I will tell\nher that I am a dealer in white slaves and that I had with me\nmany, but have sold all but this one, whom I have retained to\nkeep my accounts, for he can read and write.'  And the captain\nsaid, 'This device should serve well.'  Presently they reached\nthe city and slackening sail, cast anchor; when, behold, Queen\nMerjaneh came down to them, attended by her guards, and halting\nbefore the ship, called out to the captain, who landed and kissed\nthe earth before her.  Quoth she, 'What is the lading of thy ship\nand whom hast thou with thee?'  'O queen of the age,' answered\nhe, 'I have with me a merchant who deals in slaves.'  And she\nsaid, 'Bring him to me;' whereupon Behram came ashore to her,\nfollowed by Asaad in a slave's habit, and kissed the earth before\nher.  'What is thy condition?' asked the queen; and Behram\nanswered, 'I am a slave-dealer.'  Then she looked at Asaad and\ntaking him for a slave, said to him, 'What is thy name?'  Quoth\nhe, 'Dost thou ask my present or my former name?'  'Hast thou\nthen two names?' asked she, and he answered (and indeed his voice\nwas choked with tears), 'Yes; my name aforetime was Asaad,[FN#70]\nbut now it is Muterr.'[FN#71] Her heart inclined to him and she\nsaid, 'Canst thou write?'  'Yes,' answered he; and she gave him\ninkhorn and pen and paper and said to him, 'Write somewhat, that\nI may see it.'  So he wrote the following verses:\n\nHarkye, O thou that judgest, what can a mortal do, When fate, in\n     all conditions, doth him to death ensue?\nIt casts him in the ocean, bound hand and foot, and says, \"Beware\n     lest with the water you wet yourself, look you!\"\n\nWhen she read this, she had compassion upon him and said to\nBehram, 'Sell me this slave.'  'O my lady,' answered he, 'I\ncannot sell him, for he is the only slave I have left.'  Quoth\nshe, 'I must have him of thee, either by purchase or as a gift.'\nBut Behram said, 'I will neither sell him nor give him.'  Whereat\nshe was wroth and taking Asaad by the hand, carried him up to the\npalace and sent to Behram, saying, 'Except thou set sail and\ndepart our city this very night, I will seize all thy goods and\nbreak up thy ship.'  When the message reached the Magian, he was\nsore troubled and said, 'Verily, this voyage is every way\nunfortunate.'  Then he made ready and took all he needed and\nawaited the coming of the night, to resume his voyage, saying to\nthe sailors, 'Provide yourselves and fill the waterskins, that we\nmay set sail at the last of the night.'  So the sailors did their\noccasions and awaited the coming of the night.\n\nTo return to Queen Merjaneh.  When she had brought Asaad into the\npalace, she opened the windows overlooking the sea and bade her\nhandmaids bring food.  Accordingly, they set food before Asaad\nand herself, and they ate, after which the queen called for wine\nand fell to drinking with him.  Now God (may He be exalted and\nglorified!) filled her heart with love for Asaad and she plied\nhim with wine, till his reason fled and presently he rose and\nleft the hall, to do an occasion.  Seeing a door open, he went\nout and walked on, till he came to a vast garden full of all\nmanner fruits and flowers and sitting down under a tree, did his\noccasion.  Then he went up to a fountain in the garden and made\nthe ablution and washed his hands and face, after which he would\nhave risen to go away; but the air smote him and he fell back,\nwith his clothes undone, and slept, and night overcame him thus.\n\nMeanwhile, Behram, the night being come, cried out to the sailors\nto spread sail and depart.  'We hear and obey,' answered they;\n'but give us time to fill our water-skins.'  Then they landed\nwith their water-skins and coasting the palace, found nothing but\nwalls: so they climbed over into the garden and followed the\ntrack of feet, that led them to the fountain, where they found\nAsaad lying on his back, asleep.  They knew him and taking him\nup, climbed the wall again with him, after they had filled their\nskins, and carried him back in haste to Behram, to whom said\nthey, 'Beat thy drums and sound thy pipes; for we have found thy\nprisoner, whom Queen Merjaneh took from thee by force, and have\nbrought him back to thee.'  And they threw Asaad down before\nhim. When Behram saw him, his heart leapt for joy and his\nbreast dilated with gladness.  Then he bestowed largesse on\nthe sailors and bade them weigh anchor in haste.  So they set\nsail forthright, intending for the Mountain of Fire, and stayed\nnot their course till the morning.\n\nAs for Queen Merjaneh, she abode awhile, awaiting Asaad's return;\nand when she saw that he came not, she rose and sought him, but\nfound no trace of him.  Then she bade her women light flambeaux\nand search for him, whilst she herself went forth and seeing the\ngarden-door open, knew that he had gone thither.  So she went out\nand finding his slippers lying by the fountain, searched the\ngarden in every part, but found no sign of him.  Nevertheless,\nshe gave not over the search till morning, when she enquired for\nthe Magian's ship and was told that it had set sail in the first\nwatch of the night; wherefore she knew that they had taken Asaad\nwith them and this was grievous to her and she was angry.  So she\nbade equip ten great ships forthwith and arming herself, embarked\nin one of them, with her guards and women and troops, richly\naccoutred and armed for war.  They spread the sails and she said\nto the captain, 'If you overtake the Magian's ship, ye shall have\nof me dresses of honour and largesse; but if ye let it escape, I\nwill kill you all.'  Whereat fear and great hope fell upon the\nseamen, and they sailed three days and nights, till, on the\nfourth day, they sighted Behram's ship.  Ere ended day, they came\nup with it and surrounded it on all sides, even as Behram had\ntaken Asaad forth of the chest and was beating and torturing him,\nwhilst the prince cried out for succour and relief, but found\nneither helper nor deliverer; and indeed he was sorely tormented\nwith much beating.  Presently Behram chanced to look up and\nseeing himself encompassed by the queen's ships, as the white of\nthe eye encompasses the black, gave himself up for lost and\ngroaned and said to Asaad, 'Out on thee, O Asaad!  This is all\nthy doing; but, by Allah, I will kill thee ere I die myself.'\nThen he bade the sailors throw him overboard; so they took him by\nthe hands and feet and cast him into the sea and he sank.  But\nGod (may He be exalted and glorified!) willed that his life\nshould be saved and that his last day should be deferred; so He\ncaused him to rise again and he struck out with his hands and\nfeet, till the Almighty gave him ease and relief and the waves\nbore him far from the Magian's ship and threw him ashore.  He\nlanded, scarce crediting his escape, and putting off his clothes,\nwrung them and spread them out to dry, whilst he sat, naked and\nweeping over his misfortunes and desolate and forlorn condition\nand repeating the following verses:\n\nMy fortitude fails me for travail and pain; My patience is spent,\n     my endeavour in vain;\nMy sinews are sundered; O Lord of all lords, To whom but his Lord\n     shall the wretched complain?\n\nThen, rising, he donned his clothes and set out at a venture,\nknowing not whither he went.  He fared on day and night, eating\nof the herbs of the earth and the fruits of the trees and\ndrinking of the streams, till he came in sight of a city;\nwhereupon he rejoiced and hurried on; but before he reached it,\nthe night overtook him and the gates were shut.  Now, as chance\nwould have it, this was the very city in which he had been a\nprisoner and to whose king his brother Amjed was vizier. When\nhe saw the gate was shut, he turned back and made for the\nburial-ground, where finding a tomb without a door, he entered\nand lay down and fell asleep, with his face in his sleeve.\n\nMeanwhile, Queen Merjaneh, coming up with Behram's ship,\nquestioned him of Asaad; but he swore to her that he was not with\nhim and that he knew nothing of him.  She searched the ship, but\nfound no trace of Asaad, so took Behram and carrying him back to\nher castle, would have put him to death; but he ransomed himself\nfrom her with all his good and his ship and she released him and\nhis men.  They went forth from her, hardly believing in their\nescape, and fared on ten days' journey, till they came to their\nown city and found the gate shut, it being eventide.  So they\nmade for the burial-ground, thinking to lie the night there, and\ngoing round about the tombs, as fate would have it, saw that, in\nwhich Asaad lay, open; whereat Behram marvelled and said,' I must\nlook into this tomb.'  Then he entered and found Asaad lying\nasleep, with his head on his sleeve; so he raised his head and\nlooking in his face, knew him for him on whose account he had\nlost his goods and his ship, and said, 'Art thou yet alive?'\nThen he bound him and gagged him, without further parley, and\ncarried him to his house, where he clapped heavy shackles on his\nfeet and lowered him into the underground dungeon aforesaid,\naffected to the tormenting of Muslims, bidding a daughter of his,\nby name Bustan, torture him night and day, till the next year,\nwhen they would again visit the Mountain of Fire and offer him up\nas a sacrifice there.  Then he beat him grievously and locking\nthe dungeon door upon him, gave the keys to his daughter.  By and\nby, she opened the door and went down to beat him, but finding\nhim a comely sweet-faced youth, with arched brows and melting\nblack eyes, fell in love with him and said to him, 'What is thy\nname?'  'My name is Assad,'[FN#72] answered he.  'Mayst thou\nindeed be happy,' exclaimed she, 'and happy be thy days!  Thou\ndeservest not torture and blows, and I see thou hast been\nunjustly entreated.'  And she comforted him with kind words and\nloosed his bonds.  Then she questioned him of the faith of Islam,\nand he told her that it was the true and orthodox faith and that\nour lord Mohammed had approved himself by surpassing miracles and\nmanifest signs and that the [worship of] fire was not profitable,\nbut harmful; and he went on to expound to her the tenets of\nIslam, till she was persuaded and the love of the True Faith\nentered her heart.  Then (for God the Most High had filled her\nwith love of Asaad), she made profession of the faith and became\nof the people of felicity.  After this, she brought him meat and\ndrink and talked with him and they prayed together: moreover, she\nmade him chicken-broths and fed him therewith, till he regained\nstrength and his sickness left him and he was restored to health.\nOne day, as she stood at the door of the house, she heard the\ncrier proclaiming aloud and saying, 'Whoso hath with him a\nhandsome young man, whose favour is thus and thus, and bringeth\nhim forth, shall have all he seeketh of wealth; but if any have\nhim and discover it not, he shall be hanged over his own door and\nhis goods shall be confiscated and his blood go for nought.'  Now\nAsaad had acquainted her with his whole history: so, when she\nheard the crier, she knew that it was he who was sought for and\ngoing down to him, told him the news.  Then she went forth with\nhim to the palace of the Vizier, whom when Asaad saw, he\nexclaimed, 'By Allah, this is my brother Amjed!'  And threw\nhimself upon him; whereupon Amjed also knew him and they embraced\neach other and lay awhile insensible, whilst the Vizier's\nofficers stood round them.  When they came to themselves, Amjed\ntook his brother and carried him to the Sultan, to whom he\nrelated the whole story, and the Sultan charged him to plunder\nBehram's house and take himself.  So Amjed despatched thither a\ncompany of men, who sacked the house and took Behram and brought\nhis daughter to the Vizier, who received her with all honour, for\nAsaad had told his brother all the torments he had suffered and\nthe kindness that she had done him.  Moreover, Amjed, in his\nturn, related to Asaad all that had passed between the lady and\nhimself and how he had escaped hanging and become Vizier; and\nthey made moan, each to the other, of the anguish they had\nsuffered for separation.  Then the Sultan sent for Behram and\nbade strike off his head; but he said, 'O most mighty King, art\nthou indeed resolved to put me to death?'  'Yes,' replied the\nKing, 'except thou save thyself by becoming a Muslim.'  And\nBehram said, 'O King, have patience with me a little.'  Then he\nbowed his head awhile and presently raising it again, made\nprofession of the faith and avowed himself a Muslim at the hands\nof the Sultan.  They all rejoiced at his conversion and Amjed and\nAsaad told him all that had befallen them, whereat he wondered\nand said, 'O my lords, make ready for the journey and I will\ndepart with you and carry you back to your father's court in a\nship.'  At this they rejoiced and wept sore; but he said, 'O my\nlords, weep not for your departure, for ye shall be re-united\n[with those you love], even as were Nimeh and Num.'  'And what\nbefell Nimeh and Num?' asked they.  'It is told,' replied Behram,\n'(but God alone is all-knowing), that\n\n\n\n\nStory of Nimeh Ben Er Rebya and Num His Slave-girl\n\n\n\nThere lived once in the city of Cufa a man called Er Rebya ben\nHatim, who was one of the chief men of the town, rich in goods\nand prosperous, and God had vouchsafed him a son, whom he named\nNimet Allah.[FN#73] One day, being in the slave-dealers' mart, he\nsaw a female slave exposed for sale, with a little girl of\nwonderful beauty and grace in her hand.  So he beckoned to the\nbroker and said to him, \"What is the price of this woman and her\nchild?\"  \"Fifty dinars,\" answered he.  \"Write the contract of\nsale,\" said Er Rebya, \"and take the money and give it to her\nowner.\"  Then he gave the broker the price and his brokerage and\ntaking the woman and her child, carried them to his house.  When\nhis wife saw the slave, she said to her husband (who was the son\nof her father's brother), \"O my cousin, what is this damsel?\"\nQuoth he, \"I bought her for the sake of the little one on her\narm, for know that, when she grows up, there will not be her like\nfor beauty, either in the land of the Arabs or elsewhere.\"  \"It\nwas well seen of thee,\" answered his wife.  Then said she to the\nwoman, \"What is thy name?\"  \"O my lady,\" replied she, \"my name is\nTaufic.\"  \"And what is thy daughter's name?\" asked she.\n\"Saad,\"[FN#74] answered the slave.  \"Thou sayst sooth,\" rejoined\nher mistress.  \"Thou art indeed happy, and happy is he who hath\nbought thee.\"  Then said she to her husband, \"O my cousin, what\nwilt thou call her?\"  \"What thou choosest,\" answered he.  \"Then\nlet us call her Num,\"[FN#75] quoth she, and he said, \"Good.\"  The\nlittle Num was reared with Er Rebya's son Nimeh in one cradle and\neach grew up handsomer than the other.  They were wont to call\neach other brother and sister, till they came to the age of ten,\nwhen Er Rebya said to Nimeh, \"O my son, Num is not thy sister,\nbut thy slave.  I bought her in thy name, whilst thou wast yet in\nthe cradle; so call her no more 'sister' from this day forth.\"\n\"If that be so,\" quoth Nimeh, \"I will take her to wife.\"  Then he\nwent to his mother and told her of this, and she said to him, \"O\nmy son, she is thy handmaid.\"  So he went in to Num and loved her\nand two years passed over them, whilst Num grew up, nor was there\nin all Cufa a fairer or sweeter or more graceful girl than she.\nShe learnt the Koran and all manner of knowledge and excelled in\nmusic and singing and playing upon all kinds of instruments, so\nthat she surpassed all the folk of her time.  One day, as she sat\nwith her husband in the wine-chamber, she took the lute and\ntuning it, sang the following verses:\n\nSince thou'rt my lord, by whose good grace I live in fair estate,\n     A sword wherewith I smite in twain the neck of adverse fate,\nNo need is mine to have recourse to Amr[FN#76] or to Zeid,[FN#77]\n     Nor any but thyself, an if the ways on me grow strait.\n\nNimeh was charmed with these verses and said to her, \"I conjure\nthee, by my life, O Num, sing to us with the tambourine and other\ninstruments!\"  So she sang the following verses to a lively air:\n\nBy him whose hand possesses the reins of my affair, On passion's\n     score, I swear it, my enviers I'll dare.\nYea, I will vex my censors and thee alone obey And sleep and ease\n     and solace, for thy sweet sake, forswear\nAnd dig midmost my entrails, to hold the love of thee, A grave,\n     of which not even my heart shall be aware.\n\nAnd Nimeh exclaimed, \"Gifted of God art thou, O Num!\"\n\nBut whilst they led thus the most delightsome life, El Hejjaj,\n[FN#78] [the governor of Cufa, heard of Num and] said in\nhimself, \"Needs must I make shift to take this girl Num and send\nher to the Commander of the Faithful Abdulmelik ben Merwan, for\nhe hath not in his palace her like for beauty and sweet singing.\"\nThen, calling an old woman, one of his body-servants, he said to\nher, \"Go to Er Rebya's house and foregather with the girl Num and\ncast about to steal her away, for her like is not to be found on\nthe face of the earth.\"  She promised to do his bidding; so next\nmorning she donned clothes of wool[FN#79] and threw round her\nneck a rosary of thousands of beads; then, taking in her hand a\nstaff and water-bottle of Yemen make, went forth, exclaiming,\n\"Glory be to God!  Praised be God!  There is no god but God!  God\nis most great!  There is no power and no virtue but in God the\nMost High, the Supreme!\"  Nor did she leave making devout\nejaculations, whilst her heart was full of craft and fraud, till\nshe came to Nimeh's house, at the hour of noonday-prayer, and\nknocked at the door.  The doorkeeper opened and said to her,\n\"What dost thou want?\"  Quoth she, \"I am a poor pious woman, whom\nthe time of noonday-prayer hath overtaken, and I would fain pray\nin this blessed place.\"  \"O old woman,\" answered the porter,\n\"this is no mosque nor oratory, but the house of Nimeh ben er\nRebya.\"  \"I know there is neither mosque nor oratory like the\nhouse of Nimeh ben er Rebya,\" rejoined she.  \"I am a chamberwoman\nof the palace of the Commander of the Faithful and am come out\nupon a pilgrimage of devotion.\"  But the porter replied, \"Thou\ncanst not enter;\" and many words passed between them, till at\nlast she caught hold of him, saying, \"Shall the like of me, who\nhave free access to the houses of Amirs and grandees, be denied\nadmission to the house of Nimeh ben er Rebya?\"  Presently, out\ncame Nimeh and hearing their dispute, laughed and bade the old\nwoman enter.  So she followed him into the presence of Num, whom\nshe saluted after the goodliest fashion; and when she looked on\nher, she was confounded at her exceeding beauty and said to her,\n\"O my lady, I commend thee to the safeguard of God, who made thee\nand thy lord to accord in beauty and grace!\"  Then she stood up\nin the prayer-niche and betook herself to inclination and\nprostration and prayer, till the day departed and the night came\nwith the darkness, when Num said to her, \"O my mother, rest thy\nfeet awhile.\"  \"O my lady,\" answered the old woman, \"whoso\nseeketh the world to come must weary himself in this world, and\nwhoso wearieth not himself in this world shall not attain the\ndwellings of the just in the world to come.\"  Then Num brought\nher food and said to her, \"O my mother, eat of my victual and\npray that God may relent towards me and have mercy on me.\"  But\nshe replied, \"O my lady, I am fasting.  As for thee, thou art but\na girl and it befits thee to eat and drink and make merry.  May\nGod be indulgent to thee!  Quoth the Most High, '(None shall be\nsaved) except those that repent and believe and work the works of\nrighteousness.'\"[FN#80] Num sat awhile, conversing with the old\nwoman, and presently said to Nimeh, \"O my lord, conjure this old\nwoman to sojourn with us awhile, for piety is imprinted on her\nface.\"  Quoth he, \"Set apart for her a chamber, where she may do\nher devotions, and let none go in to her: peradventure God\n(glorified and exalted be He!) shall prosper us by the blessing\nof her presence and part us not.\"  The old woman passed the night\nin prayer and recitation,[FN#81] till daybreak, when she went in\nto Nimeh and Num and giving them good morning, said to them, \"I\npray God to have you in His holy keeping!\"  \"Whither away, O my\nmother?\" said Num.  \"My lord hath bidden me set apart for thee a\nchamber, where thou mayst retire for thy devotions.\"  \"God give\nhim long life,\" replied the old woman, \"and continue His favour\nto you both!  I would have you charge the doorkeeper not to stay\nmy coming in to you, and (God willing) I will go the round of the\nHoly Places and pray for you at the end of my devotions every day\nand night.\"  Then she went out (whilst Num wept for parting with\nher, knowing not the purpose of her coming) and returned to El\nHejjaj, who said to her, \"What news?\"  She answered, \"I have seen\nthe girl, and indeed never bore woman of her day a lovelier than\nshe.\"  And El Hejjaj said to her, \"So thou do my bidding, thou\nshalt have of me abundant good.\"  Quoth she, \"I ask of thee a\nmonth's time.\"  And he replied, \"It is well.\"  Then she fell to\npaying frequent visits to Nimeh and Num, who redoubled in honour\nand kindness to her, and she used to go in to them morning and\nevening, and all in the house welcomed her, till, one day, being\nalone with Num, she said to her, \"By Allah, O my lady, when I go\nto the Holy Places, I will pray for thee; but I should love thee\nto go thither with me, that thou mightest look on the Elders\nof the Faith that resort thither, and they should pray for\nthee, according to thy desire.\"  \"O my mother,\" said Num, \"I\nconjure thee by Allah, take me with thee!\"  \"Ask leave of thy\nmother-in-law,\" replied the old woman, \"and I will take thee.\"\nSo Num said to her mother-in-law, \"O my lady, ask my master to\nlet us go, thee and me, one day, with this my old mother, to pray\nand worship with the fakirs in the Holy Places.\"  Presently,\nNimeh came in and sat down, whereupon the old woman went up to\nhim and would have kissed his hand, but he forbade her; so she\ncalled down blessings on him and left the house.  Next day, she\ncame again, in the absence of Nimeh, and said to Num, \"We prayed\nfor thee yesterday; but arise now and divert thyself and return\nere thy lord come home.\"  So Num said to her mother-in-law, \"I\nbeseech thee, for God's sake, let me go with this pious woman,\nthat I may look upon the friends of God in the Holy Places and\nreturn speedily, ere my lord come.\"  Quoth Nimeh's mother, \"I\nfear lest thy lord know.\"  \"By Allah,\" said the old woman, \"I\nwill not let her sit down; but she shall look, standing on her\nfeet, and not tarry.\"  So on this wise she took the damsel by\nguile and carrying her to El Hejjaj's palace, bestowed her in a\nprivy chamber and told him of her coming; whereupon he went in to\nher and looking upon her, saw her to be the loveliest of the\npeople of the day, never had he beheld her like.  When Num saw\nhim, she veiled her face from him; but he left her not till he\nhad called his chamberlain, whom he commanded to take fifty\nhorsemen and mounting the damsel on a swift dromedary, carry her\nto Damascus and there deliver her to the Commander of the\nFaithful, Abdulmelik ben Merwan.  Moreover, he gave him a letter\nfor the Khalif, saying, \"Bear him this letter and bring me his\nanswer in all haste.\"  So the chamberlain took the damsel, all\ntearful for separation from her lord, and setting out with her\nfor Syria, gave not over journeying till he reached Damascus and\nsought an audience of the Commander of the Faithful, to whom he\ndelivered the damsel and the letter.  The Khalif appointed her a\nseparate apartment and going into his harem, said to his wife,\n\"El Hejjaj has bought me a female slave of the daughters\n(descendants) of the (ancient) Kings of Cufa, for ten thousand\ndinars, and has sent her to me with this letter.\"  \"May God\nincrease thee of his favour!\"  answered she.  Then the Khalif's\nsister went into Num and when she saw her, she said, \"By Allah,\nhappy the man who hath thee in his house, were thy cost a hundred\nthousand dinars!\"  \"O fair-faced one,\" said Num, \"what King's\npalace is this?\"  \"This is the city of Damascus,\" answered the\nprincess, \"and the palace of my brother, the Commander of the\nFaithful, Abdulmelik ben Merwan.  Didst thou not know this?\"  \"By\nAllah, O my lady,\" said Num, \"I had no knowledge of this!\"  \"And\nhe who sold thee and took thy price,\" asked the princess, \"did he\nnot tell thee that the Khalif had bought thee?\"  When Num heard\nthis, she wept and said in herself, \"I have been cozened; but, if\nI speak, none will credit me; so I will hold my peace and take\npatience, knowing that the relief of God is near.\"  Then she bent\nher head for shame, and indeed her cheeks were tanned with the\njourney and the sun.  So the Khalif's sister left her that day\nand returned to her on the morrow with clothes and necklaces of\njewels and dressed her; after which the Khalif came in to her and\nsat down by her side, and his sister said to him, \"Look on this\ndamsel, in whom God hath united every perfection of beauty and\ngrace.\"  So he said to Num, \"Draw back the veil from thy face;\"\nbut she would not unveil, and he beheld not her face.  However,\nhe saw her wrists and love of her entered his heart; and he said\nto his sister, \"I will not go in to her for three days, till she\nbe cheered by thy converse.\"  Then he left her, but Num ceased\nnot to brood over her case and sigh for her separation from\nNimeh, till, at eventide, she fell sick of a fever and ate not\nnor drank; and her face grew pale and her charms faded.  They\ntold the Khalif of this, and it grieved him; so he visited her\nwith physicians and men of skill, but none could come at a cure\nfor her.\n\nAs for Nimeh, when he returned home, he sat down on his bed and\ncried, \"Ho, Num!\"  But she answered not; so he rose in haste and\ncalled out, but none came to him, for all the women in the house\nhad hidden themselves, for fear of him.  Then he went in to his\nmother, whom he found sitting with her cheek on her hand, and\nsaid to her, \"O my mother, where is Num?\"  \"O my son,\" answered\nshe, \"she is with one who is worthier than I to be trusted with\nher, namely, the devout old woman; she went forth with her to\nvisit the fakirs and return.\"  \"Since when has this been her\nwont,\" asked Nimeh, \"and at what hour went she forth?\"  Quoth his\nmother, \"She went out early in the morning.\"  \"And how camest\nthou to give her leave for this?\" said he, and she replied, \"O my\nson, it was she persuaded me.\"  \"There is no power and no virtue\nbut in God the Most High, the Supreme!\" exclaimed Nimeh and going\nforth, in a state of distraction, repaired to the chief of the\npolice, to whom said he, \"Dost thou practice on me and steal my\nslave-girl away from me?  I will assuredly complain of thee to\nthe Commander of the Faithful.\"  \"Who has taken her?\" asked the\nchief of the police, and Nimeh answered, \"An old woman of such\nand such a favour, clad in woollen raiment and carrying a rosary\nof thousands of beads.\"  \"Find me the old woman,\" rejoined the\nother, \"and I will get thee back thy slave-girl.\"  \"Who knows\nthe old woman?\" said Nimeh.  \"And who knows the hidden things\nsave God, may He be glorified and exalted?\" replied the official,\nwho knew her for El Hejjaj's agent.  Quoth Nimeh, \"I look to thee\nfor my slave-girl, and El Hejjaj shall judge between thee and\nme.\"  And the master of police answered, \"Go to whom thou wilt.\"\nNow Nimeh's father was one of the chief men of Cufa; so he went\nto the palace of the governor, whose chamberlain went in to him\nand told him what was to do.  El Hejjaj bade admit him and\nenquired his business.  Quoth Nimeh, \"Such and such things have\nbefallen me.\"  And the governor said, \"Bring me the chief of the\npolice, and we will bid him seek for the old woman.\"  Now he knew\nthat the chief of the police knew her; so, when he came, he said\nto him, \"I wish thee to make search for the slave-girl of Nimeh\nben er Rebya.\"  And he answered, \"None knoweth the hidden things\nsave God the Most High.\"  \"Thou must send out horsemen,\" rejoined\nEl Hejjaj, \"and look for the damsel in all the roads and towns.\"\nThen he turned to Nimeh and said to him, \"An thy slave-girl\nreturn not, I will give thee ten slave-girls from my house and\nten from that of the chief of the police.\"  And he said to the\nlatter, \"Go and seek for the girl.\"  So he went out and Nimeh\nreturned home, full of trouble and despairing of life.  He had\nnow reached the age of fourteen and there was yet no hair on his\ncheeks.  He shut himself up from his household and ceased not to\nweep and lament, he and his mother, till the morning, when his\nfather came in to him and said, \"O my son, El Hejjaj hath put a\ncheat on the damsel and stolen her away; but from hour to hour\nGod giveth relief.\"  But grief redoubled on Nimeh, so that he\nknew not what he said nor who came in to him, and indeed his\ncharms were changed and he was in sorry case.  In this plight he\nabode three months, till his father despaired of him, and the\nphysicians visited him and said, \"There is no cure for him but\nthe damsel.\"  One day, Er Rebya heard tell of a skilful Persian\nphysician, whom the folk gave out for accomplished in medicine\nand astrology and geomancy.  So he sent for him and seating him\nby his side, entreated him with honour and said to him, \"Look\ninto my son's case.\"  So he said to Nimeh, \"Give me thy hand.\"\nAccordingly, the young man gave him his hand and he felt his\npulse and his joints and looked in his face; then he laughed and\nturning to Er Rebya, said, \"Thy son's only ailment is in his\nheart.\"  \"Thou sayst sooth, O sage,\" answered Er Rebya; \"but\napply thy skill to the consideration of his state and case and\nacquaint me with the whole thereof and hide nought from me.\"\nQuoth the Persian, \"He is enamoured of a girl, who is either in\nBassora or Damascus; and there is no cure for him but reunion\nwith her.\"  \"An thou bring them together,\" said Er Rebya, \"thou\nshalt have of me what will rejoice thee and shalt live all thy\nlife in wealth and delight.\"  \"This is an easy matter,\" answered\nthe Persian, \"and soon brought about;\" and he turned to Nimeh and\nsaid to him, \"Fear not; no hurt shall befall thee; so take heart\nand be of good cheer.\"  Then said he to Er Rebya, \"Give me four\nthousand dinars of your money.\"  So he gave them to him, and he\nsaid, \"I wish to carry thy son with me to Damascus, and God\nwilling, we will not return thence but with the damsel.\"  Then\nsaid he to the youth, \"What is thy name?\"  And he answered,\n\"Nimeh.\"  \"O Nimeh,\" said the Persian, \"sit up and be of good\nheart, for God will reunite thee with the damsel.  So put thy\ntrust in Him and eat and drink and be cheerful and fortify\nthyself for travel, for we set out for Damascus this very day.\"\nSo he sat up whilst the Persian made his preparations and took of\nEr Rebya, in all, the sum of ten thousand dinars, together with\nhorses and camels and beasts of burden such as he needed for the\njourney.  Then Nimeh took leave of his father and mother and\njourneyed with the physician to Aleppo.  They could get no news\nof Num there, so fared on to Damascus, where they abode three\ndays, after which the Persian took a shop and adorned its shelves\nwith gilding and stuffs of price and stocked them with vessels of\ncostly porcelain, with covers of silver.  Moreover, he set before\nhimself vases and flagons of glass full of all manner ointments\nand syrups, surrounded by cups of crystal, and donning a\nphysician's habit, took his seat in the shop, with his astrolabe\nand geomantic tablet before him.  Then he clad Nimeh in a shirt\nand gown of silk and girding his middle with a silken kerchief\nembroidered with gold, made him sit before himself, saying to\nhim, \"O Nimeh, henceforth thou art my son; so call me nought but\nfather and I will call thee son.\"  And he replied, \"I hear and\nobey.\"  The people of Damascus flocked to gaze on the youth's\ngoodliness and the beauty of the shop and its contents, whilst\nthe physician spoke to Nimeh in Persian and he answered him in\nthe same tongue, for he knew the language, after the wont of the\nsons of the notables.  The Persian soon became known among the\ntownsfolk and they began to resort to him and acquaint him with\ntheir ailments, for which he prescribed.  Moreover, they brought\nhim the water of the sick in phials, and he would examine it and\nsay, \"He, whose water this is, is suffering from such and such a\ndisease.\"  And the patient would say, \"Verily, this physician\nsays sooth.\"  So he continued to do the occasions of the folk and\nthey to flock to him, till his fame spread throughout the city\nand into the houses of the great.  One day, as he sat in his\nshop, there came up an old woman riding on an ass with housings\nof brocade, embroidered with jewels, and drawing bridle before\nhis shop, beckoned to him, saying, \"Take my hand.\"  So he took\nher hand, and she alighted and said to him, \"Art thou the Persian\nphysician from Irak?\"  \"Yes,\" answered he, and she said, \"Know\nthat I have a sick daughter.\"  Then she brought out to him\na phial and he looked at it and said to her, \"Tell me thy\ndaughter's name, that I may calculate her horoscope and learn the\nhour in which it will befit her to take medicine.\"  \"O brother of\nthe Persians,\" answered she, \"her name is Num.\"  When he heard\nthis, he fell to calculating and writing on his hand and\npresently said to her, \"O my lady, I cannot prescribe for the\ngirl, till I know what countrywoman she is, because of the\ndifference of climate: so tell me where she was brought up and\nwhat is her age.\"  \"She is fourteen years old,\" replied the old\nwoman, \"and was brought up in Cufa of Irak.\"  \"And how long,\"\nasked he, \"has she sojourned in this country?\"  \"But a few\nmonths,\" answered she.  When Nimeh heard the old woman's words\nand the name of his slave-girl, his heart fluttered and he was\nlike to swoon.  Then said the Persian to the old woman, \"Such and\nsuch medicines will suit her case;\" and she rejoined, \"Then make\nthem up and give them to me, with the blessing of God the Most\nHigh!\"  So saying, she threw him ten dinars, and he bade Nimeh\nprepare the necessary drugs; whereupon she looked at the youth\nand exclaimed, \"God have thee in His holy keeping, O my son!\nVerily, she is like thee in age and favour.\"  Then said she to\nthe physician, \"O brother of the Persians, is this thy slave or\nthy son?\"  \"He is my son,\" answered he.  So Nimeh made up the\nmedicine and laying it in a little box, took a piece of paper and\nwrote thereon the following verses:\n\nSo Num but vouchsafe me a glance, to gladden my heart and my\n     mind, Let Suada unfavouring prove and Juml, an't please her,\n     unkind.[FN#82]\n\"Forget her,\" quoth they unto me, \"And thou shalt have twenty\n     like her.\" I will not forget her, I swear, for never her\n     like should I find.\n\nHe put the paper in the box and sealing it up, wrote on the cover\nthe following words in the Cufic character, \"I am Nimeh ben er\nRebya of Cufa.\"  Then he gave it to the old woman, who bade them\nfarewell and returning to the Khalif's palace, went in to Num, to\nwhom she delivered the box, saying, \"O my lady, know that there\nis lately come to our town a Persian physician, than whom I never\nsaw a more skilful nor a better versed in matters of sickness.  I\nshowed him the phial and told him thy name, and he knew thine\nailment and prescribed a remedy.  Then, by his order, his son\nmade thee up this medicine; and there is not in Damascus a\ncomelier or more elegant youth than this son of his nor hath any\nthe like of his shop.\"  Num took the box and seeing the names of\nher lord and his father written thereon, changed colour and said\nto herself, \"Doubtless, the owner of this shop is come in search\nof me.\"  So she said to the old woman, \"Describe this youth to\nme.\"  \"His name is Nimeh,\" answered the old woman; \"he is richly\nclad and perfectly handsome and has a mole on his right eyebrow.\"\n\"Give me the medicine,\" cried Num, \"and may the blessing and help\nof God the Most High attend it!\"  So she drank off the potion and\nsaid, laughing, \"Indeed, it is a blessed medicine.\"  Then she\nsought in the box and finding the paper, read it and knew that\nthis was indeed her lord, whereat her heart was solaced and she\nrejoiced.  When the old woman saw her laughing, she exclaimed,\n\"This is indeed a blessed day!\"  And Num said, \"O nurse, I\nhave a mind to eat and drink.\"  So the old woman said to the\nserving-women, \"Bring a tray of dainty viands for your mistress;\"\nwhereupon they set food before her and she sat down to eat.\nPresently, in came the Khalif and seeing her sitting eating,\nrejoiced; and the old woman said to him, \"O Commander of the\nFaithful, I give thee joy of thy slave's recovery!  Know that\nthere is lately come to our city a physician, than whom I never\nsaw a better versed in diseases and their cure.  I fetched her\nmedicine from him and she has taken of it but once and is\nrestored to health.\"  Quoth he, \"Take a thousand dinars and\nprovide for her treatment, till she be completely recovered.\" And\nhe went away, rejoicing in the damsel's recovery, whilst the old\nwoman betook herself to the physician, to whom she delivered the\nthousand dinars and a letter that Num had written, giving him to\nknow that she was become the Khalif's slave.  He gave the letter\nto Nimeh, who knew her hand and fell down in a swoon.  When he\ncame to himself, he opened the letter and found these words\nwritten therein: \"From the slave despoiled of her delight,[FN#83]\nher whose reason hath been beguiled and who is separated from the\nbeloved of her heart.  Thy letter hath reached me and hath\ndilated my bosom and rejoiced my heart, even as saith the poet:\n\nThe letter reached me, never may the fingers fail thee aught,\n     That traced its characters, until with sweetest scent\n     they're fraught!\n'Twas as unto his mother's arms when Moses was restored Or as to\n     blind old Jacob's hands when Joseph's coat was\n     brought.\"[FN#84]\n\nWhen he read these verses, his eyes ran over with tears and the\nold woman said to him, \"What ails thee to weep, O my son?  May\nGod never make thine eye to shed tears!\"  \"O my lady,\" answered\nthe Persian, \"how should my son not weep, seeing that this is his\nslave-girl and he her lord Nimeh ben er Rebya of Cufa?  Indeed,\nher recovery depends on her seeing him, for nought ails her but\nthe love of him.  So, O my lady, take these thousand dinars to\nthyself (and thou shalt have of me yet more than this) and look\non us with eyes of compassion; for we know not how to bring this\naffair to a happy issue but through thee.\"  Then she said to\nNimeh, \"Art thou indeed her lord?\"  \"Yes,\" answered he, and she,\n\"Thou sayst truly; for she ceases not to name thee.\"  Then he\ntold her all that had passed from first to last, and she said, \"O\nyouth, thou shalt owe thy reunion with her to none but me.\"  So\nshe mounted at once and returning to Num, looked in her face and\nsmiled, saying, \"O my daughter, it is just that thou weep and\nfall sick for thy separation from thy master Nimeh ben er Rebya\nof Cufa.\"  Quoth Num, \"Verily, the veil has been withdrawn for\nthee and the truth revealed to thee.\"  \"Be of good cheer,\"\nrejoined the old woman, \"and take heart, for I will surely bring\nyou together, though it cost me my life.\"  Then she returned to\nNimeh and said to him, \"I have seen thy slave-girl and find that\nshe longs for thee yet more than thou for her; for the Commander\nof the Faithful is minded to foregather with her, but she refuses\nherself to him.  But if thou be stout of heart and firm of\ncourage, I will bring you together and venture myself for you and\nmake shift to bring thee to her in the Khalif's palace; for she\ncannot come forth.\"  And Nimeh answered, \"God requite thee with\ngood!\"  Then she went back to Num and said to her, \"Thy lord is\nindeed dying of love for thee and would fain see thee and\nforegather with thee.  What sayst thou?\"  \"And I also,\" answered\nNum, \"am dying for his sight.\"  So the old woman took a parcel of\nwomen's clothes and ornaments and repairing to Nimeh, said to\nhim, \"Come apart with me into a privy place.\"  So he brought her\ninto the room behind the shop, where she painted him and decked\nhis wrists and plaited his hair, after which she clad him in a\nslave-girl's habit and adorned him after the fairest fashion of\nwoman's adornment, till he was as one of the houris of Paradise;\nand when she saw him thus, she exclaimed, \"Blessed be God, the\nmost excellent Creator!  By Allah, thou art handsomer than the\ndamsel!  Now, walk with thy left shoulder forward and swing thy\nbuttocks.\"  So he walked before her, as she bade him; and when\nshe saw he had caught the trick of women's gait, she said to him,\n\"Expect me to-morrow night, when, God willing, I will come and\ncarry thee to the palace.  When thou seest the chamberlains and\nthe eunuchs, fear not, but bow thy head and speak not with any,\nfor I will ward thee from their speech; and with God is success.\"\nAccordingly, on the morrow she returned at the appointed hour and\ncarrying him to the palace, entered and he after her.  The\nchamberlain would have stayed him, but the old woman said to him,\n\"O most ill-omened of slaves, this is the handmaid of Num, the\nKhalif's favourite.  How darest thou stay her?\"  Then said she,\n\"Enter, O damsel!\"  And they went on, till they drew near the\ndoor leading to the inner court of the palace, when the old woman\nsaid to him, \"O Nimeh, take courage and enter and turn to the\nleft.  Count five doors and enter the sixth, for it is that of\nthe place prepared for thee.  Fear nothing, and if any speak to\nthee, answer not neither stop.\"  Then she went up with him to the\ndoor, and the chamberlain on guard hailed her, saying, \"What\ndamsel is that?\"  Quoth the old woman, \"Our lady hath a mind to\nbuy her.\"  And he said, \"None may enter save by leave of the\nCommander of the Faithful; so go thou back with her.  I cannot\nlet her pass, for thus am I commanded.\"  \"O chief chamberlain,\"\nreplied the old woman, \"use thy reason.  Thou knowest that Num,\nthe Khalif's slave-girl, of whom he is enamoured, is but now\nrestored to health and the Commander of the Faithful hardly yet\ncredits her recovery.  Now she is minded to buy this girl; so\noppose thou not her entrance, lest it come to Num's knowledge and\nshe be wroth with thee and suffer a relapse and this bring thy\nhead to be cut off.\"  Then said she to Nimeh, \"Enter, O damsel;\npay no heed to what he says and tell not the princess that he\nopposed thine entrance.\"  So Nimeh bowed his head and entered,\nbut mistook and turned to his right, instead of his left, and\nmeaning to count five doors and enter the sixth, counted six\nand entering the seventh, found himself in a  place carpeted\nwith brocade and hung with curtains of gold-embroidered silk.\nHere and there stood censers of aloes-wood and ambergris and\nsweet-scented musk, and at the upper end was a couch covered with\nbrocade, on which he seated himself, marvelling at the exceeding\nmagnificence of the place and knowing not what was appointed to\nhim in the secret purpose of God.  As he sat musing on his case,\nthe Khalif's sister entered, followed by her handmaid, and seeing\nhim seated there took him for a slave-girl and said to him, \"What\nart thou, O damsel, and who brought thee hither?\"  He made no\nreply and she continued, \"If thou be one of my brother's\nfavourites and he be wroth with thee, I will intercede with him\nfor thee.\"  But he answered her not a word; so she said to her\nmaid, \"Stand at the door and let none enter.\"  Then she went up\nto Nimeh and looking at him, was amazed at his beauty and said to\nhim, \"O lady, tell me who thou art and how thou camest here; for\nI have never seen thee in the palace.\"  Still he answered not,\nwhereat she was angered and putting her hand to his bosom, found\nno breasts and would have unveiled him, that she might know who\nhe was; but he said to her, \"O my lady, I am thy slave and cast\nmyself on thy protection; do thou protect me.\"  \"No harm shall\ncome to thee,\" said she; \"but tell me who thou art and who\nbrought thee into this my lodging.\"  \"O princess,\" answered he,\n\"I am known as Nimeh ben er Rebya of Cufa, and I have ventured my\nlife for my slave-girl Num, whom El Hejjaj took by sleight and\nsent hither.\"  \"Fear not,\" rejoined the princess; \"no harm shall\nbefall thee.\"  Then, calling her maid, she said to her, \"Go to\nNum's chamber and bid her to me.\"\n\nMeanwhile, the old woman went to Num's bed-chamber and said to\nher, \"Has thy lord come to thee?\"  \"No, by Allah!\" answered Num,\nand the other said, \"Belike he hath gone astray and entered some\nchamber other than thine.\"  \"There is no power and no virtue but\nin God the Most High, the Supreme!\" exclaimed Num.  \"Our last\nhour is come and we are all lost.\"  As they sat, pondering, in\ncame the princess's maid and saluting Num, said to her, \"My lady\nbids thee to her entertainment.\"  \"I hear and obey,\" answered the\ndamsel, and the old woman said, \"Belike thy lord is with the\nKhalif's sister and the veil has been done away.\"  So Num rose\nand betook herself to the princess, who said to her, \"Here is thy\nlord sitting with me; it seems he has gone astray; but, please\nGod, neither thou nor he has any cause for fear.\"  When Num heard\nthis, she took heart and went up to Nimeh, who rose to meet her,\nand they embraced and fell down in a swoon.  As soon as they came\nto themselves, the princess said to them, \"Sit down and let us\ntake counsel for your deliverance from this your strait.\"  And\nthey answered, \"O our lady, we hear and obey: it is thine to\ncommand.\"  \"By Allah,\" quoth she, \"no harm shall befall you from\nus!\"  Then she called for meat and drink, and they sat down and\nate till they had enough, after which they sat drinking.  The cup\nwent round amongst them and their cares ceased from them; but\nNimeh said, \"Would I knew how this will end!\"  \"O Nimeh,\" quoth\nthe princess, \"dost thou love thy slave Num?\"  \"O my lady,\"\nanswered he, \"it is my passion for her that has brought me thus\nin peril of my life.\"  Then she said to the damsel, \"O Num, dost\nthou love thy lord Nimeh?\"  And she replied, \"O my lady, it is\nthe love of him that has wasted my body and brought me to evil\ncase.\"  \"By Allah,\" rejoined the princess, \"since ye love each\nother thus, may he not live who would sunder you!  Take heart and\nbe of good cheer.\" At this they both rejoiced, and Num, calling\nfor a lute, tuned it and preluded enchantingly, then sang the\nfollowing verses:\n\nWhenas, content with nothing less, the spies our sev'rance\n     sought, Allbe no debt of blood they had 'gainst me or thee\n     in aught,\nWhenas they poured upon our ears the hurtling din of war, Whilst\n     helpers and protectors failed and succour came there nought,\nI fought the railers with my tears, my spirit and thine eyes;\n     Yea, with the torrent, fire and sword, to fend them off I\n     wrought.\n\nThen she gave the lute to Nimeh, saying, \"Sing thou to us.\"  So\nhe took it and playing a lively measure, sang these verses:\n\nThe moon were like thee at its full, were it of freckles free,\n     And did it never brook eclipse, the sun would favour thee.\nIndeed, I marvel, (but in love how many a marvel is! Therein are\n     passion and desire and cares and ecstasy,)\nShort seems the distance, when I fare towards my love's abode;\n     But when I journey from her sight, the way is long to me.\n\nWhen he had made an end of his song, Num filled the cup and gave\nit to him, and he drank it off; then she filled again and gave\nthe cup to the princess, who took it and emptied it; after which\nshe in her turn took the lute and sang as follows:\n\nMourning and grief possess my heart and in my breast The ardour\n     of desire abideth as a guest.\nThe wasting of my frame, alas! is manifest And all my soul is\n     sick with passion and unrest.\n\nThen she filled the cup and gave it to Num, who drank  it off and\ntaking the lute, sang the following verses:\n\nO thou, upon whom I bestowed my soul and thou rack'dst it to\n     death And I would have ta'en it again, but could not release\n     it i' faith,\nRelent to a lover forlorn; vouchsafe him, I pray, ere he die,\n     What may from perdition redeem, for this is the last of his\n     breath.\n\nThey ceased not to sing and make merry and drink to the sweet\nsound of the strings, full of mirth and joyance and good cheer,\ntill, behold, in came the Commander of the Faithful.  When they\nsaw him, they rose and kissed the ground before him; and he,\nseeing Num with the lute in her hand, said to her, \"O Num,\npraised be God who hath done away from thee pain and affliction!\"\nThen he looked at Nimeh (who was still disguised as a woman) and\nsaid to the princess, \"O my sister, what damsel is this by Num's\nside?\"  \"O Commander of the Faithful,\" answered she, \"she is one\nof thy slave-girls and the bosom friend of Num, who will neither\neat nor drink without her.\"  And she repeated the words of the\npoet:\n\nTwo opposites, dissevered still in charms and straitly knit, And\n     each one's beauty brightlier shows against its opposite.\n\n\"By the Great God,\" said the Khalif, \"she is as handsome as Num,\nand to-morrow, I will appoint her a separate chamber beside that\nof Num and send her furniture and linen and all that befits her,\nin honour of Num.\"  Then, the princess called for food and set it\nbefore her brother, who ate and filling a cup, signed to Num to\nsing.  So she took the lute, after drinking two cups, and sang\nthe following verses:\n\nWhenas my cup-companion hath poured me out of wine Three foaming\n     cups, brimmed over with nectar from the vine,\nI trail my skirts in glory all night, as if o'er thee, Commander\n     of the Faithful, the empery were mine.\n\nThe Khalif was delighted and filling another cup, gave it to Num\nand bade her sing again.  So she drank off the cup, and sweeping\nthe strings of the lute, sang as follows:\n\nO thou, the noblest man of men that live in this our day, Whose\n     equal none may boast himself in power and mightiness,\nO all unpeered in pride of place, to whom munificence Is as a\n     birthright, Lord and King, whom all in all confess,\nThou, that dost lord it, sovran-wise, o'er all the kings of earth\n     And without grudging or reproach, giv'st bountiful largesse,\nGod have thee ever in His guard, despite thine every foe, And be\n     thy fortune ever bright with victory and success!\n\nWhen the Khalif heard this, he exclaimed, \"By Allah, it is good!\nBy Allah, it is excellent!  Verily, God hath been good to thee, O\nNum!  How sweet is thy voice and how clear thy speech!\"  They\npassed the time thus in mirth and good cheer, till midnight, when\nthe Khalif's sister said to him, \"O Commander of the Faithful,\ngive ear to a tale I have read in books of a certain man of\nrank.\"  \"And what is this tale?\" asked he.  \"Know,\" said she,\n\"that there lived once in the city of Cufa, a youth called Nimeh\nben er Rebya, and he had a slave-girl whom he loved and who loved\nhim.  They had been reared in one bed; but when they grew up and\nmutual love took possession of them, fate smote them with its\ncalamities and decreed separation unto them.  For designing folk\nenticed her by sleight forth of his house and stealing her away\nfrom him, sold her to one of the Kings for ten thousand dinars.\nNow the girl loved her lord even as he loved her; so he left\nhouse and home and fortune and setting out in quest of her, made\nshift, at the peril of his life, to gain access to her; but they\nhad not been long in company, when in came the King, who had\nbought her of her ravisher, and hastily bade put them to death,\nwithout waiting to enquire into the matter, as was just.  What\nsayest thou, O Commander of the Faithful, of this King's\nconduct?\"  \"This was indeed a strange thing,\" answered the\nKhalif; \"it behoved the King to use his power with clemency, and\nhe should have considered three things in their favour; first,\nthat they loved one another; secondly, that they were in his\nhouse and under his hand; and thirdly, that it behoves a King to\nbe deliberate in judging between the folk, and how much more so\nwhen he himself is concerned!  Wherefore the King in this did\nunkingly.\"  Then said his sister, \"O my brother by the Lord of\nheaven and earth, I conjure thee, bid Num sing and give ear to\nthat she shall sing!\"  And he said, \"O Num, sing to me.\"  So she\nplayed a lively measure and sang the following verses:\n\nFortune hath played the traitor; indeed, 'twas ever so,\n     Transpiercing hearts and bosoms and kindling care and woe\nAnd parting friends in sunder, that were in union knit, So down\n     their cheeks thou seest the tears in torrents flow.\nThey were, and I was with them, in all delight of life, And\n     fortune did unite us full straitly whiles ago.\nSo gouts of blood, commingled with tears, both night and day I'll\n     weep, my sore affliction for loss of thee to show.\n\nWhen he heard this, he was moved to great delight, and his sister\nsaid to him, \"O my brother, he who decideth in aught against\nhimself, it behoveth him to abide by it and do according to his\nword; and thou hast by this judgment decided against thyself.\"\nThen said she, \"O Nimeh, stand up, and do thou likewise, O Num!\"\nSo they stood up and she continued, \"O Commander of the Faithful,\nshe who stands before thee is Num, whom El Hejjaj ben Yousuf eth\nThekefi stole and sent to thee, falsely pretending in his letter\nto thee that he had bought her for ten thousand dinars.  This\nother is her lord, Nimeh ben er Rebya; and I beseech thee, by the\nhonour of thy pious forefathers and by Hemzeh and Akil and\nAbbes,[FN#85] to pardon them and bestow them one on the other,\nthat thou mayst earn the recompense in the next world of thy\njust dealing with them; for they are under thy hand and have\neaten of thy meat and drunken of thy drink; and behold, I make\nintercession for them and beg of thee the boon of their lives.\"\n\"Thou sayst sooth,\" replied the Khalif, \"I did indeed give\njudgment as thou sayst, and I use not to go back on my word.\"\nThen said he, \"O Num, is this thy lord?\"  And she answered, \"Yes,\nO Commander of the Faithful.\"  \"No harm shall befall you,\" said\nhe; \"I give you to one another.\"  Then he said to the young man,\n\"O Nimeh, who told thee where she was and taught thee how to get\nat her?\"  \"O Commander of the Faithful,\" replied he, \"give ear to\nmy story; for by the virtue of thy pious forefathers, I will hide\nnothing from thee!\"  And he told him all that had passed between\nhimself and the Persian physician and the old woman and how she\nhad brought him into the palace and he had mistaken one door for\nanother; whereat the Khalif wondered exceedingly and said, \"Fetch\nme the Persian.\"  So they fetched him and he made him one of his\nchief officers.  Moreover, he bestowed on him robes of honour and\nordered him a handsome present, saying, \"Him, who has shown such\ngood sense and skill in his ordinance, it behoves us to make one\nof our chief officers.\"  He also loaded Nimeh and Num with gifts\nand honours and rewarded the old woman; and they abode with him\nin joy and content and all delight of life seven days; at the end\nof which time Nimeh craved leave to return to Cufa with his\nslave-girl.  The Khalif gave leave and they departed accordingly\nand arrived in due course at Cufa, where Nimeh foregathered with\nhis father and mother, and they abode in the enjoyment of all the\ndelights and comforts of life, till there came to them the\nDestroyer of Delights and the Sunderer of Companies.'\n\n                 * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *\n\nThe princes wondered mightily at Behram's story and said, 'By\nAllah, this is indeed a rare story!'  They passed the night thus,\nand next morning, Amjed and Asaad mounted and riding to the\npalace, sought an audience of the King, who received them with\nhonour.  As they sat talking, of a sudden they heard the\ntownsfolk crying aloud and shouting to one another and calling\nfor help, and the chamberlain came in to the King and said to\nhim, 'Some King hath encamped before the city, he and his army,\nwith arms displayed, and we know not who they are nor what they\nseek.'  The King took counsel with his Vizier and Asaad, and\nAmjed said, 'I will go out to him and learn the cause of his\ncoming.'  So he took horse and riding forth the city, repaired to\nthe stranger's camp, where he found the King and with him many\nsoldiers and mounted officers.  When the guards saw him, they\nknew him for an ambassador from the King of the city; so they\ntook him and brought him to their King.  Amjed kissed the ground\nbefore him; but lo, the King was a queen, who wore a chin-band\nover her face, and she said to Amjed, 'Know that I have no design\non your city and am only come hither in quest of a beardless\nslave of mine, whom if I find with you, I will do you no hurt;\nbut if I find him not, then shall there befall sore battle\nbetween you and me.'  'O Queen,' asked Amjed, 'what is thy\nslave's name and what like is he?'  Said she, 'His name is Asaad\nand he is of such and such a favour.  My name is Merjaneh, and\nthis slave came to my town in company of Behram, a Magian, who\nrefused to sell him to me; so I took him by force, but the Magian\nfell upon him by night and took him away by stealth.'  When Amjed\nheard this he knew that it was his brother Asaad whom she sought\nand said to her, 'O Queen of the age, praised be God who hath\nbrought us relief!  Know that he whom thou seekest is my\nbrother.'  Then he told her their story and all that had befallen\nthem in the land of exile, and acquainted her with the cause of\ntheir departure from the Islands of Ebony, whereat she marvelled\nand rejoiced to have found Asaad.  So she bestowed a dress of\nhonour upon Amjed, and he returned to the King and told him what\nhad passed, at which they all rejoiced and the King and the two\nprinces went forth to meet Queen Merjaneh.  They were admitted to\nher presence and sat down to converse with her, but as they were\nthus engaged, behold, a cloud of dust arose and grew, till it\ncovered the landscape.  Presently, it lifted and discovered an\narmy, in numbers like the swollen sea, armed cap-a-pie, who,\nmaking for the city with naked swords, encompassed it as the ring\nencompasses the little finger.  When Amjed and Asaad saw this,\nthey exclaimed, 'We are God's and to Him we return.  What is this\ngreat army?  Doubtless, these are enemies; and except we agree\nwith this Queen Merjaneh to resist them, they will take the town\nfrom us and slay us.  There is nothing for us but to go out to\nthem and see who they are.'  So Amjed mounted and passing through\nQueen Merjaneh's camp, came to the approaching army and was\nadmitted to the presence of their King, to whom he delivered his\nmessage, after kissing the earth before him.  Quoth the King, 'I\nam called King Gha\u00efour, lord of the Islands and the Seas and the\nSeven Castles, and am come out in quest of my daughter Budour, of\nwhom fortune hath bereft me; for she left me and returned not to\nme, nor have I heard any news of her or her husband Kemerezzeman.\nHave ye any tidings of them?'  When Amjed heard this, he knew\nthat this King was none other than his grandfather, his mother's\nfather, and kissing the earth before him, told him that he was\nthe son of his daughter Budour; whereupon Gha\u00efour threw himself\nupon him and they both fell a-weeping.  Then said Gha\u00efour,\n'Praised be God, O my son, for safety, since I have foregathered\nwith thee!'  And Amjed told him that his daughter Budour and her\nhusband Kemerezzeman were well and abode in a city called the\nCity of Ebony.  Moreover, he related to him how his father, being\nwroth with him and his brother, had commanded his treasurer to\nput them to death, but that the latter had taken pity on them and\nlet them go with their lives.  Quoth King Gha\u00efour, 'I will go\nback with thee and thy brother to your father and make your peace\nwith him.'  Amjed kissed the ground before him and the King\nbestowed a dress of honour upon him, after which he returned,\nsmiling, to the King of the city of the Magians and told him what\nhe had learnt, at which he wondered exceedingly.  Then he\ndespatched guest-gifts of sheep and horses and camels and\nprovender and so forth to King Gha\u00efour and the like to Queen\nMerjaneh and told her what had chanced, whereupon quoth she, 'I\ntoo will accompany you with my troops and will do my endeavour to\nmake peace [between the princes and their father.]' At this\nmoment, there arose another cloud of dust and spread, till it\ncovered the prospect and darkened the day; and under it, they\nheard shouts and cries and neighing of horses and saw the sheen\nof swords and the glint of lance-points.  When this new host drew\nnear the city and saw the two other armies, they beat their drums\nand the King of the Magians exclaimed, 'This is indeed a blessed\nday!  Praised be God who hath made us of accord with these two\narmies!  If it be His will, He will give us peace with yon other\nalso.'  Then said he to Amjed and Asaad, 'Go forth and bring us\nnews of them, for they are a mighty host, never saw I a\nmightier.'  So they opened the city gates, which the King had\nshut for fear of the surrounding troops, and Amjed and Asaad went\nforth and coming to the new host, found that it was the army of\nthe King of the Ebony Islands, led by their father, King\nKemerezzeman in person.  When they came before him, they kissed\nthe earth and wept; but, when he saw them, he threw himself upon\nthem, weeping sore, and strained them long to his breast.  Then\nhe excused himself to them and told them how sore desolation he\nhad suffered for their loss; and they acquainted him with King\nGha\u00efour's arrival, whereupon he mounted with his chief officers\nand proceeded to the King of China's camp, he and his sons.  As\nthey drew near, one of the princes rode forward and informed King\nGha\u00efour of Kemerezzeman's coming, whereupon he came out to meet\nhim and they joined company, marvelling at these things and\nhow Fortune had ordered their encounter in that place.  Then\nthe townsfolk made them banquets of all manner of meats and\nconfections and brought them sheep and horses and camels and\nfodder and other guest-gifts and all that the troops needed.\nPresently, behold, yet another cloud of dust arose and spread\ntill it covered the landscape, whilst the earth shook with the\ntramp of horse and the drums sounded like the storm-winds.  After\nawhile, the dust lifted and discovered an army clad in black and\narmed cap-a-pie, and in their midst rode a very old man clad\nalso in black, whose beard flowed down over his breast.  When the\nKing of the city saw this great host, he said to the other Kings,\n'Praised be God the Most High, by whose leave ye are met here,\nall in one day, and proved all known one to the other!  But what\nvast army is this that covers the country?'  'Have no fear of\nthem,' answered they; 'we are here three Kings, each with a great\narmy, and if they be enemies, we will join thee in doing battle\nwith them, were three times their number added to them.'  As they\nwere talking, up came an envoy from the approaching host, making\nfor the city.  They brought him before the four Kings and he\nkissed the earth and said, 'The King my master comes from the\nland of the Persians; many years ago he lost his son and is\nseeking him in all countries.  If he find him with you, well and\ngood; but if he find him not, there will be war between him and\nyou, and he will lay waste your city.'  'That shall he not,'\nrejoined Kemerezzeman; 'but how is thy master called in the land\nof the Persians?'  'He is called King Shehriman, lord of the\nKhalidan Islands,' answered the envoy; 'and he hath levied these\ntroops in the lands traversed by him, whilst seeking his son.'\nWhen Kemerezzeman heard his father's name, he gave a great cry\nand fell down in a swoon; then, presently coming to himself, he\nwept sore and said to Amjed and Asaad, 'Go, O my sons, with the\nmessenger: salute your grandfather, King Shehriman, and give him\nglad tidings of me, for he mourns my loss and even now wears\nblack for my sake.'  Then he told the other Kings all that had\nbefallen him in his youth, at which they all wondered and\nmounting with him, repaired to his father, whom he saluted, and\nthey embraced and fell down in a swoon, for excess of joy.  When\nthey revived, Kemerezzeman acquainted his father with all his\nadventures, and the other Kings saluted Shehriman.  Then they\nmarried Merjaneh to Asaad and sent her back to her kingdom,\ncharging her not to leave them without news of her.  Moreover,\nAmjed took Bustan, Behram's daughter, to wife, and they all set\nout for the City of Ebony.  When they arrived there, Kemerezzeman\nwent in to his father-in-law, King Armanous, and told him all\nthat had befallen him and how he had found his sons; whereat\nArmanous rejoiced and gave him joy of his safe return.  Then King\nGha\u00efour went in to his daughter, Queen Budour, and satisfied his\nlonging for her company, and they all abode a month's space in\nthe City of Ebony; after which the King of China and his daughter\nreturned to their own country with their company, taking prince\nAmjed with them, whom, as soon as Gha\u00efour was settled again in\nhis kingdom, he made king in his stead.  Moreover, Kemerezzeman\nmade Asaad king in his room over the Ebony Islands, with the\nconsent of his grandfather, King Armanous, and set out himself,\nwith his father, King Shehriman, for the Islands of Khalidan.\nThe people of the capital decorated the city in their honour and\nthey ceased not to beat the drums for glad tidings a whole month;\nnor did Kemerezzeman leave to govern in his father's room, till\nthere overtook them the Destroyer of Delights and the Sunderer of\nCompanies.\"\n\n\"O Shehrzad,\" said King Shehriyar, \"this is indeed a right\nwonderful story!\"  \"O King,\" answered she, \"it is not more\nwonderful than that of Alaeddin Abou esh Shamat.\"  \"What is\nthat?\" asked he, and she said, \"I have heard tell, O august King,\nthat\n\n\n\n\n                   ALAEDDIN ABOU ESH SHAMAT.\n\n\n\nThere lived once in Cairo, of old time, a merchant named\nShemseddin, who was of the best and truest-spoken of the traders\nof the city and had great store of money and goods and slaves and\nservants, white and black and male and female. Moreover, he was\nProvost of the Merchants of Cairo and had a wife, whom he loved\nand who loved him; but he had lived with her forty years, yet had\nnot been blessed with son or daughter by her. One Friday, as he\nsat in his shop, he noted that each of the merchants had a son or\ntwo or more, sitting in shops like their fathers. Presently, he\nentered the bath and made the Friday ablution; after which he\ncame out and took the barber's glass, saying, 'I testify that\nthere is no god but God and that Mohammed is His Apostle!' Then\nhe looked at his beard and seeing that the white hairs in it\noutnumbered the black, bethought himself that hoariness is the\nharbinger of death. Now his wife knew the time of his coming and\nhad washed and made ready for him; so when he came in to her, she\nsaid, 'Good even;' but he replied, 'I see no good.' Then she\ncalled for the evening meal and said to her husband, 'Eat, O my\nlord.' Quoth he, 'I will eat nothing,' and pushing the table away\nwith his foot, turned his back to her. 'Why dost thou thus?' said\nshe. 'What has vexed thee?' And he answered, 'Thou art the cause\nof my vexation.' 'How so?' asked she. 'This morning,' replied he,\n'when I opened my shop, I saw that each of the other merchants\nhad a son or two or more, and I said to myself, \"He who took thy\nfather will not spare thee.\" Now the night I wedded thee, thou\nmadest me swear that I would never take a second wife nor a\nconcubine, Abyssinian or Greek or other, nor would lie a night\nfrom thee: and behold, thou art barren, and swiving thee is like\nboring into the rock.' 'God is my witness,' rejoined she, 'that\nthe fault lies with thee, for that thy seed is thin.' 'And how is\nit with him whose seed is thin?' asked he, and she, 'He cannot\nget women with child nor beget children.' 'What thickens seed?'\nasked he. 'Tell me and I will try it: haply, it will thicken\nmine.' Quoth she, 'Enquire for it of the druggists.' They slept\nthat night and arose on the morrow, repenting each of having\nspoken angrily to the other. Then he went to the market and\naccosting a druggist, said to him, 'Hast thou wherewithal to\nthicken the seed?' 'I had it, but am spent of it,' answered the\ndruggist; 'ask my neighbour.' So Shemseddin made the round of the\nbazaar, till he had asked every one; but they all laughed at him\nand he returned to his shop and sat down, troubled. Now there was\nin the market a man called Sheikh Mohammed Semsem, who was syndic\nof the brokers and was given to the use of opium and bang and\nhashish. He was poor and used to wish Shemseddin good morrow\nevery day; so he came to him according to his wont and saluted\nhim. The merchant returned his salute, and the other, seeing him\nvexed, said to him, 'O my lord, what hath crossed thee?' Quoth\nShemseddin, 'These forty years have I been married to my wife,\nyet hath she borne me neither son nor daughter; and I am told\nthat the cause of my failure to get her with child is the\nthinness of my seed; so I have been seeking wherewithal to\nthicken it, but found it not.' 'I have a thickener,' said Sheikh\nMohammed; 'but what wilt thou say to him who makes thy wife\nconceive by thee, after forty years' barrenness? 'An thou do\nthis,' answered the merchant, 'I will largely reward thee.' 'Then\ngive me a dinar,' rejoined the broker, and Shemseddin said, 'Take\nthese two dinars.' He took them and said, 'Give me also yonder\nbowl of porcelain.' So he gave it him, and the broker betook\nhimself to a hashish-seller, of whom he bought two ounces of\nconcentrated Turkish opium and equal parts of Chinese cubebs,\ncinnamon, cloves, cardamoms, white pepper, ginger and mountain\nlizard[FN#86] and pounding them all together, boiled them in\nsweet oil; after which he added three ounces of frankincense and\na cupful or coriander-seed and macerating the whole, made it into\na paste with Greek honey. Then he put the electuary in the bowl\nand carried it to the merchant, to whom he delivered it, saying,\n'This is the seed-thickener, and the manner of using it is this.\nMake the evening-meal of mutton and house-pigeon, plentifully\nseasoned and spiced; then take of this electuary with a spoon\nand wash it down with a draught of boiled date-wine.' So the\nmerchant bought mutton and pigeons and sent them to his wife,\nbidding her dress them well and lay up the electuary till he\nshould call for it. She did as he bade her and he ate the\nevening-meal, after which he called for the bowl and ate of the\nelectuary. It liked him well, so he ate the rest and lay with his\nwife. That very night she conceived by him and after three\nmonths, her courses ceased and she knew that she was with child.\nWhen the days of her pregnancy were accomplished, the pangs\nof labour took her and they raised cries of joy. The midwife\ndelivered her with difficulty [of a son], then, taking the new-\nborn child, she pronounced over him the names of Mohammed and Ali\nand said, 'God is Most Great!' Moreover, she called in his ear\nthe call to prayer; then swathed him and gave him to his mother,\nwho took him and put him to her breast; and he sucked his full\nand slept. The midwife abode with them three days, till they had\nmade the mothering-cakes and sweetmeats; and they distributed\nthem on the seventh day. Then they sprinkled salt[FN#87] and the\nmerchant, going in to his wife, gave her joy of her safe delivery\nand said, 'Where is the gift of God?' So they brought him a babe\nof surpassing beauty, the handiwork of the Ever-present Orderer\nof all things, whoever saw him would have deemed him a yearling\nchild, though he was but seven days old. Shemseddin looked on his\nface and seeing it like a shining full moon, with moles on both\ncheeks, said to his wife, 'What hast thou named him?' 'If it were\na girl,' answered she, 'I had named her; but it is a boy, so none\nshall name him but thou.' Now the people of that time used to\nname their children by omens; and whilst the merchant and his\nwife were taking counsel of the name, they heard one say to his\nfriend, 'Harkye, my lord Alaeddin!' So the merchant said, 'We\nwill call him Alaeddin Abou esh Shamat.'[FN#88] Then he committed\nthe child to the nurses, and he drank milk two years, after which\nthey weaned him and he grew up and throve and walked upon the\nearth. When he came to seven years old, they put him in a chamber\nunder the earth, for fear of the evil eye, and his father said,\n'He shall not come out, till his beard grows.' And he gave him in\ncharge to a slave-girl and a black slave; the former dressed him\nhis meals and the latter carried them to him. Then his father\ncircumcised him and made him a great feast; after which he\nbrought him a doctor of the law, who taught him to write and\nrepeat the Koran and other parts of knowledge, till he became an\naccomplished scholar. One day, the slave, after bringing him the\ntray of food, went away and forgot to shut the trap-door after\nhim: so Alaeddin came forth and went in to his mother, with whom\nwas a company of women of rank. As they sat talking, in came he\nupon them, as he were a drunken white slave,[FN#89] for the\nexcess of his beauty; and when they saw him, they veiled their\nfaces and said to his mother, 'God requite thee, O such an one!\nHow canst thou let this strange slave in upon us? Knowest thou\nnot that modesty is a point of the Faith?' 'Pronounce the name of\nGod,'[FN#90] answered she. 'This is my son, the darling of my\nheart and the son of the Provost Shemseddin.' Quoth they, 'We\nnever knew that thou hadst a son:' and she, 'His father feared\nthe evil eye for him and shut him up in a chamber under the\nearth, nor did we mean that he should come out, before his beard\nwas grown; but it would seem as if the slave had unawares left\nthe door open, and he hath come out.' The women gave her joy of\nhim, and he went out from them into the courtyard, where he\nseated himself in the verandah.[FN#91] Presently, in came the\nslaves with his father's mule, and he said to them, 'Whence comes\nthis mule?' Quoth they, 'Thy father rode her to the shop, and we\nhave brought her back.' 'And what is my father's trade?' asked\nhe. And they replied, 'He is Provost of the merchants of Cairo\nand Sultan of the Sons of the Arabs.' Then he went in to his\nmother and said to her, 'O my mother, what is my father's trade?'\nSaid she, 'He is a merchant and Provost of the merchants of Cairo\nand Sultan of the Sons of the Arabs. His slaves consult him not\nin selling aught whose price is less than a thousand dinars, but\nsell it at their own discretion; nor doth any merchandise, little\nor much, enter or leave Cairo, without passing through his hands;\nfor, O my son, God the Most Great hath given thy father wealth\npast count.' 'Praised be God,' exclaimed he, 'that I am son of\nthe Sultan of the Sons of the Arabs and that my father is Provost\nof the merchants! But why, O my mother, did you put me in the\nunderground chamber and leave me prisoner there?' 'O my son,'\nanswered she, 'we did this for fear of (men's) eyes, for it is\ntrue that the evil eye hath power to harm and the most part of\nthe sojourners in the tombs are of its victims.' 'O my mother,'\nrejoined he, 'where is a place of refuge against destiny? Verily,\ntaking care estoppeth not fate nor is there any escape from that\nwhich is written. He who took my grandfather will not spare\nmyself nor my father; for, though he live to-day, he shall not\nlive to-morrow. And when my father dies and I come forth and say,\n\"I am Alaeddin, son of Shemseddin the merchant,\" none of the\npeople will believe me, but the aged will say, \"Never in our\nlives saw we a son or a daughter of Shemseddin.\" Then the\nTreasury will come down and take my father's estate; and may\nAllah have mercy on him who saith, \"The noble dies and his wealth\npasses away and the meanest of men take his women.\" So do thou, O\nmy mother, speak to my father, that he take me with him to the\nmarket and set me up in a shop with merchandise and teach me to\nbuy and sell and give and take.' 'O my son,' answered his mother,\n'when thy father returns, I will tell him this.' So when the\nmerchant came home, he found his son sitting with his mother and\nsaid to her, 'Why hast thou brought him forth of the underground\nchamber?' 'O my cousin,' answered she, 'it was not I that brought\nhim out; but the servants forgot to shut the door and left it\nopen; so he came forth and came in to me, as I sat with a company\nof women of rank.' And she went on to repeat to him what the boy\nhad said; and Shemseddin said to the latter, 'O my son, to-\nmorrow, God willing, I will take thee with me to the market; but\nI would have thee know that the commerce of the markets and the\nshops demands good manners and an accomplished carriage in all\nconditions.' So Alaeddin passed the night, rejoicing in his\nfather's promise; and on the morrow the merchant carried him to\nthe bath and clad him in a suit worth much money. As soon as they\nhad broken their fast and drunken sherbets, Shemseddin mounted\nhis mule and rode to the market, followed by his son; but when\nthe market-folk saw their Provost making towards them, followed\nby a youth as he were a piece of the moon on its fourteenth\nnight, they said, one to another, 'See yonder boy behind the\nProvost of the merchants. Verily, we thought well of him; but he\nis like the leek, grayheaded and green at the heart.' And Sheikh\nMohammed Semsem before mentioned, the Deputy of the market, said,\n'O merchants, never will we accept the like of him for our\nchief.' Now it was the custom, when the Provost came from his\nhouse and sat down in his shop of a morning, for the Deputy of\nthe market and the rest of the merchants to go in a body to his\nship and recite to him the opening chapter of the Koran, after\nwhich they wished him good morrow and went away, each to his\nshop. Shemseddin seated himself in his shop as usual, but the\nmerchants come not to him as of wont; so he called the Deputy and\nsaid to him, 'Why come not the merchants together as usual?' 'I\nknow not how to tell thee,' answered Mohammed Semsem; 'for they\nhave agreed to depose thee from the headship of the market and to\nrecite the first chapter to thee no more.' 'And why so?' asked\nShemseddin. 'What boy is this that sits beside thee,' asked the\nDeputy, 'and thou a man of years and chief of the merchants? Is\nhe a slave or akin to thy wife? Verily, I think thou lovest him\nand inclinest [unlawfully] to the boy.' With this, the Provost\ncried out at him, saying, 'God confound thee, hold thy peace!\nThis is my son.' 'Never knew we that thou hadst a son,' rejoined\nthe Deputy; and Shemseddin answered, 'When thou gavest me the\nseed-thickener, my wife conceived and bore this youth, whom I\nreared in a chamber under the earth, for fear of the evil eye,\nnor was it my purpose that he should come forth, till he could\ntake his beard in his hand. However, his mother would not agree\nto this, and he would have me bring him to the market and stock\nhim a shop and teach him to sell and buy.' So the Deputy returned\nto the other merchants and acquainted them with the truth of\nthe case, whereupon they all arose and going in a body to\nShemseddin's shop, stood before him and recited the first chapter\nof the Koran to him; after which they gave him joy of his son and\nsaid to him, 'God prosper root and branch! But even the poorest\nof us, when son or daughter is born to him, needs must he make a\npot of custard and bid his friends and acquaintances; yet thou\nhast not done this.' Quoth he, 'This is your due from me; be our\nrendezvous in the garden.' So next morning, he sent the carpet-\nlayer to the pavilion in the garden and bade him furnish it.\nMoreover, he sent thither all that was needful for cooking, such\nas sheep and butter and so forth, and spread two tables, one in\nthe saloon and another in the upper chamber. Then he and his son\ngirded themselves, and he said to the latter, 'O my son, when a\ngraybeard enters, I will meet him and carry him into the upper\nchamber and seat him at the table; and do thou, in like manner,\nreceive the beardless youths and seat them at the table in the\nsaloon.' 'O my father,' asked Alaeddin, 'why dost thou spread two\ntables, one for men and another for youths?' 'O my son,' answered\nShemseddin, 'the beardless boy is ashamed to eat with men.' And\nhis son was content with this answer. So when the merchants\narrived, Shemseddin received the men and seated them in the upper\nchamber, whilst Alaeddin received the youths and seated them in\nthe saloon. Then the servants set on food and the guests ate and\ndrank and made merry, whilst the attendants served them with\nsherbets and perfumed them with the fragrant smoke of scented\nwoods; and the elders fell to conversing of matters of science\nand tradition. Now there was amongst them a merchant called\nMehmoud of Balkh, a Muslim by profession but at heart a Magian, a\nman of lewd life, who had a passion for boys. He used to buy\nstuffs and merchandise of Alaeddin's father; and when he saw the\nboy, one look at his face cost him a thousand sighs and Satan\ndangled the jewel before his eyes, so that he was taken with\ndesire and mad passion for him and his heart was filled with love\nof him. So he arose and made for the youths, who rose to receive\nhim. At this moment, Alaeddin, being taken with an urgent\noccasion, withdrew to make water; whereupon Mehmoud turned to the\nother youths and said to them, 'If ye will incline Alaeddin's\nmind to journeying with me, I will give each of you a dress worth\nmuch money.' Then he returned to the men's party; and when\nAlaeddin came back, the youths rose to receive him and seated him\nin the place of honour. Presently, one of them said to his\nneighbour, 'O my lord Hassan, tell me how thou camest by the\ncapital on which thou tradest.' 'When I came to man's estate,'\nanswered Hassan, 'I said to my father, \"O my father, give me\nmerchandise.\" \"O my son,\" answered he, \"I have none by me: but go\nthou to some merchant and take of him money and traffic with it\nand learn to buy and sell and give and take.\" So I went to one of\nthe merchants and borrowed of him a thousand dinars, with which I\nbought stuffs and carrying them to Damascus, sold them there at a\nprofit of two for one. Then I bought Syrian stuffs and carrying\nthem to Aleppo, disposed of them there at a like profit; after\nwhich I bought stuffs of Aleppo and repaired with them to\nBaghdad, where I sold them with the same result; nor did I cease\nto buy and sell, till I was worth nigh ten thousand dinars.' Each\nof the others told a like tale, till it came to Alaeddin's turn,\nwhen they said to him, 'And thou, O my lord Alaeddin?' Quoth he,\n'I was brought up in a chamber underground and came forth from it\nbut this week and I do but go to the shop and return home.' 'Thou\nart used to abide at home,' rejoined they, 'and knowest not the\ndelight of travel, for travel is for men only.' 'I reck not of\ntravel,' answered he, 'and value ease above all things.'\nWhereupon quoth one to the other, 'This youth is like the fish:\nwhen he leaves the water he dies.' Then they said to him, 'O\nAlaeddin, the glory of the sons of the merchants is not but in\ntravel for the sake of gain.' Their talk angered him and he left\nthem, weeping-eyed and mourning-hearted, and mounting his mule,\nreturned home. When his mother saw him thus, she said to him,\n'What ails thee to weep, O my son?' And he answered, 'All the\nsons of the merchants made mock of me and said to me, \"There is\nno glory for a merchant's son save in travel for gain.\"' 'O my\nson,' rejoined she, 'hast thou a mind for travel?' 'Yes,' said\nhe. 'And whither wilt thou go?' asked she. 'To the city of\nBaghdad,' answered he; 'for there folk make a profit of two to\none on their goods.' 'O my son,' said she, 'thy father is a very\nrich man, and if he provide thee not with merchandise, I will do\nso of my own monies.' Quoth he, 'The best of favours is that\nwhich is quickly bestowed; if it is to be, now is the time for\nit.' So she called the servants and sent them for packers; then\nopening a store-house, brought out ten loads of stuffs, which the\npackers made up into bales for him. Meanwhile Shemseddin missed\nhis son and enquiring after him, was told that he had mounted and\ngone home; so he too mounted and followed him. When he entered\nthe house, he saw the bales packed ready and asked what they\nwere; whereupon his wife told him what had passed between\nAlaeddin and the young merchants and he said, 'O my son, may God\ncurse foreign travel! Verily, the Prophet (whom God bless and\npreserve) hath said, \"It is of a man's good fortune that he have\nhis livelihood in his own land;\" and it was said of the ancients,\n\"Leave travel, though but for a mile.\"' Then he said to his son,\n'Art thou indeed resolved to travel and wilt thou not turn back\nfrom it?' 'Needs must I journey to Baghdad with merchandise,'\nanswered Alaeddin, 'else will I put off my clothes and don a\ndervish's habit and go a-wandering over the world.' Quoth\nShemseddin, 'I am no lackgood, but have great plenty of wealth\nand with me are stuffs and merchandise befitting every country in\nthe world.' Then he showed him his goods and amongst the rest,\nforth bales ready packed, with the price, a thousand dinars,\nwritten on each, and said to him, 'Take these forty loads,\ntogether with those thy mother gave thee, and set out under the\nsafeguard of God the Most High. But, O my son, I fear for thee a\ncertain wood in thy way, called the Lion's Copse, and a valley\ncalled the Valley of Dogs, for there lives are lost without\nmercy.' 'How so?' asked Alaeddin. 'Because of a Bedouin\nhighwayman, hight Ajlan,' answered his father, 'who harbours\nthere.' Quoth Alaeddin, 'Fortune is with God; if any part in it\nbe mine, no harm will befall me.' Then they rode to the cattle\nmarket, where a muleteer alighted from his mule and kissing the\nProvost's hand, said to him, 'O my lord, by Allah, it is long\nsince thou hast employed me to carry merchandise for thee!'\n'Every time hath its fortune and its men,' answered Shemseddin;\n'and may God have mercy on him who said:\n\nAn old man went walking the ways of the world, So bowed and so\n     bent that his beard swept his knee.\n\"What makes thee go doubled this fashion?\" quoth I. He answered\n     (and spread out his hands unto me),\n\"My youth hath escaped me; 'tis lost in the dust, And I bend me\n     to seek it, where'er it may be.\"\n\nO captain,'[FN#92] added he, 'it is not I, but this my son that\nis minded to travel.' 'God preserve his to thee!' said the\nmuleteer. Then Shemseddin made a contract between Alaeddin and\nthe muleteer, appointing that the former should be to the latter\nas a son, and gave him into his charge, saying, 'Take these\nhundred dinars for thy men.' Moreover, he bought his son\nthreescore mules and a lamp and covering of honour for the tomb\nof Sheikh Abdulcadir el Jilani[FN#93] and said to him, 'O my son,\nI am leaving thee, and this is thy father in my stead: whatsoever\nhe biddeth thee, do thou obey him.' So saying, he returned home\nwith the mules and servants and they made recitations of the\nKoran and held a festival that night in honour of the Sheikh\nAbdulcadir. On the morrow, Shemseddin gave his son ten thousand\ndinars, saying, 'O my son, when thou comest to Baghdad, if thou\nfind stuffs brisk of sale, sell them; but if they be dull, spend\nof these dinars.' Then they loaded the mules and taking leave of\ntheir friends, set out on their journey.\n\nNow Mehmoud of Balkh had made ready his own venture for Baghdad\nand set up his tents without the city, saying in himself, 'I\nshall not enjoy this youth but in the desert, where there is\nneither spy not spoil-sport to trouble me.' It chanced that he\nhad in hand a thousand dinars of Shemseddin's monies, the balance\nof a dealing between them; so he went to the Provost and bade him\nfarewell; and he said to him, 'Give the thousand dinars to my son\nAlaeddin,' and commended the latter to his care, saying, 'He is\nas it were thy son.' Accordingly, Alaeddin joined company with\nMehmoud, who charged the youth's cook to dress nothing for him,\nbut himself provided him and his company with meat and drink. Now\nhe had four houses, one at Cairo, another at Damascus, a third at\nAleppo and a fourth at Baghdad. So they set out and journeyed\nover deserts and plains, till they drew near Damascus, when\nMehmoud sent his servant to Alaeddin, whom he found reading. He\nwent up to him and kissed his hands, and Alaeddin asked him what\nhe sought. 'My master salutes thee,' answered the slave, 'and\ncraves thy company to a banquet in his house.' Quoth the youth,\n'I must consult my father Kemaleddin, the captain of the\ncaravan.' So he consulted the muleteer, who said, 'Do not go.'\nThen they left Damascus and journeyed on till they came to\nAleppo, where Mehmoud made a second entertainment and sent to bid\nAlaeddin; but the muleteer again forbade him. Then they departed\nAleppo and fared on, till they came within a day's journey of\nBaghdad. Here Mehmoud repeated his invitation a third time and\nKemaleddin once more forbade Alaeddin to accept it; but the\nlatter said, 'I must needs go.' So he rose and girding on a sword\nunder his clothes, repaired to the tent of Mehmoud of Balkh, who\ncame to meet him and saluted him. Then he set a sumptuous repast\nbefore him, and they ate and drank and washed their hands.\nPresently, Mehmoud bent towards Alaeddin, to kiss him, but the\nyouth received the kiss on his hand and said to him, 'What wilt\nthou do?' Quoth Mehmoud, 'I brought thee hither that I might do\ndelight with thee in this jousting-ground, and we will comment\nthe words of him who saith:\n\nCan't be thou wilt with us a momentling alight, Like to an\n     ewekin's milk or what not else of white,\nAnd cat what liketh thee of dainty wastel-bread And take what\n     thou mayst get of silver small and bright\nAnd bear off what thou wilt, sans grudging or constraint,\n     Spanling or full-told span or fistling filled outright?'\n\nThen he would have laid hands on Alaeddin; but he rose and\ndrawing his sword, said to him, 'Shame on thy gray hairs! Hast\nthou no fear of God, and He of exceeding great might?[FN#94] May\nHe have mercy on him who saith:\n\nLook thou thy hoariness preserve from aught that may it stain,\n     For whiteness still to take attaint is passing quick and\n     fain.\n\nThis merchandise,' added he, 'is a trust from God and may not be\nsold. If I sold it to other than thee for gold, I would sell it\nthee for silver: but, by Allah, O filthy one, I will never again\ncompany with thee!' Then he returned to Kemaleddin and said to\nhim, 'Yonder man is a lewd fellow and I will no longer consort\nwith him nor suffer his company by the way.' 'O my son,' replied\nthe muleteer, 'did I not forbid thee to go with him? But if we\npart company with him, I fear destruction for ourselves; so let\nus still make one caravan.' But Alaeddin said, 'It may not be: I\nwill never again travel with him.' So he loaded his beasts and\njourneyed onward, he and his company, till they came to a valley,\nwhere Alaeddin would have halted, but the muleteer said to him,\n'Do not halt here; rather let us fare forward and quicken our\npace, so haply we may reach Baghdad before the gates are\nclosed, for they open and shut them with the sun, for fear the\nschismatics should take the city and throw the books of learning\ninto the Tigris.' 'O my father,' replied Alaeddin, 'I came not to\nBaghdad with this merchandise, for the sake of traffic, but to\ndivert myself with the sight of foreign lands.' And Kemaleddin\nrejoined, 'O my son, we fear for thee and for thy goods from the\nwild Arabs.' But he answered, 'Harkye, sirrah, art thou master or\nservant? I will not enter Baghdad till the morning, that the\ntownsfolk may see my merchandise and know me.' 'Do as thou wilt,'\nsaid the muleteer; 'I have given thee good counsel, and thou must\njudge for thyself.' Then Alaeddin bade them unload the mules and\npitch the tent; so they did his bidding and abode there till the\nmiddle of the night, when the youth went out to do an occasion\nand seeing something gleaming afar off, said to Kemaleddin, 'O\ncaptain, what is yonder glittering?' The muleteer sat up and\nconsidering it straitly, knew it for the glint of spear-heads and\nBedouin swords and harness. Now this was a troop of Bedouins\nunder a chief called Ajlan Abou Naib, Sheikh of the Arabs, and\nwhen the neared the camp and saw the baggage, they said, one to\nanother, 'O night of booty!' Quoth Kemaleddin, 'Avaunt, O meanest\nof Arabs!' But Abou Naib smote him with his javelin in the\nbreast, that the point came out gleaming from his back, and he\nfell down dead at the tent-door. Then cried the water-carrier,\n'Avaunt, O foulest of Arabs!' and one of them smote him with a\nsword upon the shoulder, that it issued shining from the tendons\nof the throat and he also fell slain. Then the Bedouins fell upon\nthe caravan from all sides and slew the whole company except\nAlaeddin, after which they loaded the mules with the spoil and\nmade off. Quoth Alaeddin to himself, 'Thy dress and mule will be\nthe death of thee.' So he put off his cassock and threw it over\nthe back of a mule, remaining in his shirt and drawers alone;\nafter which he went to the door of the tent and finding there a\npool of blood from the slain, rolled himself in it, till he was\nas a slain man, drowned in his blood. Meanwhile Ajlan said to his\nmen, 'O Arabs, was this caravan bound from Egypt for Baghdad or\nfrom Baghdad for Egypt?' 'It was bound from Egypt for Baghdad,'\nanswered they. 'Then,' said he, 'return to the slain, for\nmethinks the owner of the caravan is not dead.' So they turned\nback and fell to larding the slain with lance and sword-thrusts,\n[lest any life were left in them,] till they came to Alaeddin,\nwho had laid himself among the dead bodies. Quoth they, 'Thou\ndost but feign thyself dead, but we will make an end of thee.' So\none of the Bedouins drew his javelin and should have plunged\nit into his breast. But he cried out, 'Save me, O my lord\nAbdulcadir!' and behold, he saw a hand turn the lance away from\nhis breast to that of the muleteer, so that it pierced the latter\nand spared himself. Then the Bedouins made off; and when Alaeddin\nsaw that the birds were flown with their purchase, he rose and\nset off running; but Abou Naib looked back and said, 'O Arabs, I\nsee somewhat moving.' So one of the Bedouins turned back and\nspying Alaeddin running, called out to him, saying, 'Flight shall\nnot avail thee, and we after thee;' and he smote his mare with\nhis fist and pricked after him. Then Alaeddin, seeing before him\na watering tank and a cistern beside it, climbed up into a niche\nin the cistern and stretching himself along, feigned sleep and\nsaid, 'O gracious Protector, cover me with the veil of Thy\nprotection, that may not be torn away!' Presently, the Bedouin\ncame up to the cistern and standing in his stirrups put out one\nhand to lay hold of Alaeddin; but he said 'Save me, O my lady\nNefiseh![FN#95] Now is thy time!' And behold, a scorpion stung\nthe Bedouin in the palm and he cried out, saying, 'Help, O Arabs!\nI am stung;' and fell off his mare. His comrades came up to him\nand set him on horseback again, saying, 'What hath befallen\nthee?' Quoth he, 'A scorpion stung me.' And they departed,\nleaving Alaeddin in the niche.\n\nMeanwhile, Mehmoud of Balkh loaded his beasts and fared on till\nhe came to the Valley of Dogs, where he found Alaeddin's men\nlying slain. At this he rejoiced and went on till he reached the\nreservoir. Now his mule was athirst and turned aside to drink,\nbut took fright at Alaeddin's shadow in the water and started;\nwhereupon Mehmoud raised his eyes and seeing Alaeddin lying in\nthe niche, stripped to his shirt and trousers, said to him, 'Who\nhath dealt thus with thee and left thee in this ill plight?' 'The\nBedouins,' answered Alaeddin, and Mehmoud said, 'O my son, the\nmules and the baggage were thy ransom; so do thou comfort thyself\nwith the saying of the poet:\n\n\nSo but a man may win to save his soul alive from death, But as\n     the paring of his nail his wealth he reckoneth.\n\nBut now, O my son,' continued he, 'come down and fear no hurt.'\nSo he came down from the niche and Mehmoud mounted him on a mule\nand fared on with him, till they reached Baghdad, where he\nbrought him to his own house and bade his servants carry him to\nthe bath, saying to him, 'O my son, the goods and money were the\nransom of thy life; but, if thou wilt harken to me, I will give\nthee the worth of that thou hast lost, twice told.' When he came\nout of the bath, Mehmoud carried him into a saloon with four\nestrades, decorated with gold, and let bring a tray of all manner\nmeats. So they ate and drank and Mehmoud turned to Alaeddin and\nwould have taken a kiss of him; but he received it upon his hand\nand said, 'Dost thou persist in thy evil designs upon me? Did I\nnot tell thee that, were I wont to sell this merchandise to other\nthan thee for gold, I would sell it thee for silver?' Quoth\nMehmoud, 'I will give thee neither mule nor clothes nor\nmerchandise save at this price; for I am mad for love of thee,\nand God bless him who said:\n\n\nAbou Bilal his saw of an object of love, Which from one of his\n     elders himself did derive\n\"The lover's not healed of the pangs of desire By clips nor by\n     kisses, excepting he swive.\"\n\n'This may never be,' replied Alaeddin. 'Take back thy dress and\nthy mule and open the door, that I may go out.' So he opened the\ndoor, and Alaeddin went forth and walked on, with the dogs\nyelping at his heels, till he saw the door of a mosque open and\ngoing in, took shelter in the vestibule. Presently, he espied a\nlight approaching and examining it, saw that it came from a pair\nof lanterns borne by two slaves before two merchants, an old man\nof comely aspect and a youth. He heard the latter say to the\nother, 'O my uncle, I conjure thee by Allah, give me back my\nwife!' The old man replied, 'Did I not warn thee, many a time,\nwhen the oath of divorce was always in thy mouth, as it were thy\nKoran?' Then he turned and seeing Alaeddin, as he were a piece of\nthe moon, said to him, 'Who art thou, O my son?' Quoth he, 'I am\nAlaeddin, son of Shemseddin, Provost of the merchants at Cairo. I\nbesought my father for merchandise; so he packed me fifty loads\nof goods and gave me ten thousand dinars, wherewith I set out for\nBaghdad; but when I came to the Lion's Copse, the Bedouins fell\nupon me and took all I had. So I entered this city, knowing not\nwhere to pass the night, and seeing this place, I took shelter\nhere.' 'O my son,' said the old man, 'what sayst thou to a\nthousand dinars and a suit of clothes and a mule worth other two\nthousand?' 'To what end wilt thou give me this?' asked Alaeddin,\nand the other answered, 'This young man, whom thou seest, is\nthe only son of my brother and I have an only daughter called\nZubeideh the Lutanist, who is endowed with beauty and grace. I\nmarried her to him and he loves her, but she hates him. Now he\ntook an oath of triple divorcement and broke it.[FN#96] As soon\nas she heard of this, she left him, and he egged on all the folk\nto intercede with me to restore her to him; but I told him that\nthis could not lawfully be done but by an intermediate marriage,\nand we have agreed to make some stranger the intermediary, so\nnone may taunt him with this affair. So, as thou art a stranger,\ncome with us and we will marry thee to her; thou shalt lie with\nher to-night and on the morrow divorce her, and we will give thee\nwhat I said.' 'By Allah,' quoth Alaeddin to himself, 'it were\nbetter to pass the night with a bride on a bed in a house, than\nin the streets and vestibules!' So he went with them to the Cadi,\nwho, as soon as he saw Alaeddin, was moved to love of him and\nsaid to the old man, 'What is your will?' Quoth he, 'We wish to\nmarry this young man to my daughter, as an intermediary, and the\ncontract is to be for ten thousand dinars, dowry precedent, for\nwhich he shall give us a bond. If he divorce her in the morning,\nwe will give him a thousand dinars and a mule and dress worth\nother two thousand; but if he divorce her not, he shall pay down\nthe ten thousand dinars, according to the bond.' The Cadi drew up\nthe marriage contract to this effect and the lady's father took a\nbond for the dowry. Then he took Alaeddin and clothing him anew,\ncarried him to his daughter's house, where he left him at the\ndoor, whilst he himself went in to the young lady and gave her\nthe bond, saying, 'Take the bond of thy dowry, for I have married\nthee to a handsome youth by name Alaeddin Abou esh Shamat; so do\nthou use him with all consideration.' Then he left her and went\nto his own lodging. Now the lady's cousin had an old waiting-\nwoman, to whom he had done many a kindness and who used to visit\nZubeideh; so he said to her, 'O my mother, if my cousin Zubeideh\nsee this handsome young man, she will never after accept of me;\nso I would fain have thee contrive to keep them apart.' 'By thy\nyouth,' answered she, 'I will not suffer him to approach her!'\nThen she went to Alaeddin and said to him, 'O my son, I have a\nwarning to give thee, for the love of God the Most High, and do\nthou follow my advice, for I fear for thee from this damsel: let\nher lie alone and handle her not nor draw near to her.' 'Why\nso?' asked he, and she answered, 'Because her body is full of\nelephantiasis and I fear lest she infect thy fair youth.' Quoth\nhe, 'I have no need of her.' Moreover, she went to the lady and\nsaid the like to her of Alaeddin; and she replied, 'I have no\nneed of him, but will let him lie alone, and on the morrow he\nshall go his way.' Then she called a slave-girl and said to her,\n'Take him the tray of food, that he may sup.' So the maid carried\nhim the tray of food and set it before him, and he ate his fill;\nafter which he sat down and fell to reciting the chapter called\nYa-sin[FN#97] in a sweet voice. The lady listened to him and\nfound his voice as melodious as the psalms of David, which when\nshe heard, she exclaimed, 'Beshrew the old hag that told me that\nhe was affected with leprosy! Surely, that is a lie against him,\nfor this is not the voice of one who hath such a disease.' Then\nshe took a lute of Indian workmanship and tuning it, sang the\nfollowing verses, in a voice, whose music would stay the birds in\nmid-heaven:\n\nI am enamoured of a fawn with black and languorous eyes;    The\n     willow-branches, as he goes, are jealous of him still.\nMe he rejects and others 'joy his favours in my stead. This is\n     indeed the grace of God He gives to whom He will.\n\nAs soon as he had finished his recitation, he sang the following\nverse in reply:\n\nMy salutation to the shape that through the wede doth show And to\n     the roses in the cheeks' full-flowering meads that blow!\n\nWhen she heard this, her inclination for him redoubled and she\nrose and lifted the curtain; and Alaeddin, seeing her, repeated\nthese verses:\n\nShe shineth forth, a moon, and bends, a willow-wand, And breathes\n     out ambergris and gazes, a gazelle.\nMeseems as if grief loved my heart and when from her Estrangement\n     I abide, possession to it fell.\n\nThereupon she came forward, swinging her hips and swaying\ngracefully from side to side with a shape the handiwork of Him\nwhose bounties are hidden, and each of them stole a glance at the\nother, that cost them a thousand regrets. Then, for that the\narrows of her glances overcame his heart, he repeated the\nfollowing verses:\n\nThe moon of the heavens she spied and called to my thought The\n     nights of our loves in the meadows under her shine.\nYea, each of us saw a moon, but, sooth to say, It was her\n     eyes[FN#98] that I saw and she saw mine.[FN#99]\n\nThen she drew near him, and when there remained but two paces\nbetween them, he repeated these verses:\n\nShe took up three locks of her hair and spread them out one night\n     And straight three nights discovered at once unto my sight.\nThen did she turn her visage up to the moon of the sky And showed\n     me two moons at one season, both burning clear and bright.\n\nThen said he to her, 'Keep off from me, lest thou infect me.'\nWhereupon she uncovered her wrist to him, and he saw that it was\ncleft [like a peach] and its whiteness was as the whiteness of\nsilver. Then said she, 'Hold off from me, thou, for thou art\nstricken with leprosy, and belike thou wilt infect me.' 'Who told\nthee I was a leper?' asked he, and she said, 'The old woman.'\nQuoth he, 'It was she told me that thou wast afflicted with\nelephantiasis.' So saying, he bared his arms and showed her that\nhis skin was like virgin silver, whereupon she pressed him to her\nbosom and they clipped one another. Then she took him and lying\ndown on her back, did off her trousers, whereupon that which his\nfather had left him rose up [in rebellion] against him and he\nsaid, 'To it, O elder of yards, O father of nerves!' And putting\nhis hands to her flanks, set the nerve of sweetness to the mouth\nof the cleft and thrust on to the wicket-gate. His passage was by\nthe gate of victories [or openings] and after this he entered the\nMonday market and those of Tuesday and Wednesday and Thursday and\nfinding the carpet after the measure of the estrade, he plied [or\nturned] the box within its sheath [or cover] till he came to [the\nend of] it.[FN#100] When it was morning, he exclaimed, 'Alas for\ndelight that is not fulfilled! The raven[FN#101] takes it and\nflies away!' 'What means this saying?' asked she, and he\nanswered, 'O my lady, I have but this hour to abide with thee.'\nQuoth she, 'Who saith so?' and he, 'Thy father made me give him a\nbond to pay ten thousand dinars to thy dowry; and except I pay it\nthis very day, they will lay me in prison therefor in the Cadi's\nhouse; and now my hand lacketh one para of the sum.' 'O my lord,'\nsaid she, 'is the marriage bond in thy hand or in theirs?' 'In\nmine,' answered he, 'but I have nothing.' Quoth she, 'The matter\nis easy; fear nothing. Take these hundred dinars; if I had more,\nI would give thee what thou lackest; but my father, for his love\nof my cousin, hath transported all his good, even to my trinkets,\nfrom my lodging to his. But when they send thee a serjeant of the\ncourt and the Cadi and my father bid thee divorce, answer thou,\n\"By what code is it right that I should marry at nightfall and\ndivorce in the morning?\" Then kiss the Cadi's hand and give him a\npresent, and in like manner kiss the Assessors' hands and give\neach of them half a score dinars. So they will all speak with\nthee and if they say to thee, \"Why dost thou not divorce her and\ntake the thousand dinars and the mule and suit of clothes,\naccording to contract?\" do thou answer, \"Every hair of her head\nis worth a thousand dinars to me and I will never put her away,\nneither will I take a suit of clothes nor aught else.\" If the\nCadi say to thee, \"Then pay down the dowry,\" do thou reply, \"I am\nstraitened at this present;\" whereupon he and the Assessors will\ndeal friendly with thee and allow thee time to pay.' Whilst they\nwere talking, the Cadi's officer knocked at the door; so Alaeddin\nwent down and the man said to him, 'The Cadi cites thee to answer\nthy father-in-law's summons.' Alaeddin gave him five dinars and\nsaid to him, 'O serjeant, by what code am I bound to marry at\nnight and divorce next morning?' 'By none of ours,' answered the\nserjeant; 'and if thou be ignorant of the law, I will act as\nthine advocate.' Then they went to the court and the Cadi said to\nAlaeddin, 'Why dost thou not divorce the woman and take what\nfalls to thee by the contract?' With this he went up to the Cadi\nand kissing his hand, put in it fifty dinars and said, 'O our\nlord the Cadi, by what code is it right that I should marry at\nnight and divorce in the morning in my own despite?' 'Divorce on\ncompulsion,' replied the Cadi, 'is sanctioned by no school of the\nMuslims.' Then said the lady's father, 'If thou wilt not divorce,\npay me the ten thousand dinars, her dowry.' Quoth Alaeddin, 'Give\nme three days' time.' But the Cadi said, 'Three days is not\nenough; he shall give thee ten.' So they agreed to this and bound\nhim to pay the dowry or divorce after ten days. Then he left them\nand taking meat and rice and butter and what else of food he\nneeded, returned to his wife and told her what had passed;\nwhereupon she said, 'Between night and day, wonders may happen:\nand God bless him who saith:\n\nBe mild what time thou'rt ta'en with anger and despite And\n     patient, if there fall misfortune on thy head.\nIndeed, the nights are quick and great with child by time And of\n     all wond'rous things are hourly brought to bed.\n\nThen she rose and made ready food and brought the tray, and they\nate and drank and made merry awhile. Presently, Alaeddin besought\nher to let him hear some music; so she took the lute and played a\nmeasure, that would have made the very rock dance for delight,\nand the strings cried out, in ecstasy, 'O Loving One!'[FN#102]\nafter which she passed into a livelier measure. As they were thus\npassing the time in mirth and delight, there came a knocking at\nthe door and Zubeideh said to Alaeddin, 'Go and see who is at the\ndoor.' So he went down and finding four dervishes standing\nwithout, said to them, 'What do you want?' 'O my lord,' answered\nthey, 'we are foreign dervishes, the food of whose souls is music\nand dainty verse, and we would fain take our pleasure with thee\nthis night. On the morrow we will go our way, and with God the\nMost High be thy reward; for we adore music and there is not one\nof us but hath store of odes and songs and ballads.' 'I must\nconsult [my wife],' answered he and returned and told Zubeideh,\nwho said, 'Open the door to them.' So he went down again and\nbringing them up, made them sit down and welcomed them. Then he\nbrought them food, but they would not eat and said, 'O my lord,\nour victual is to magnify God with out hearts and hear music with\nour ears: and God bless him who saith:\n\nWe come for your company only, and not for your feasts; For\n     eating for eating's sake is nought but a fashion of beasts.\n\nJust now,' added they, 'we heard pleasant music here; but when we\nknocked, it ceased; and we would fain know whether the player was\na slave-girl, white of black, or a lady.' 'It was this my wife,'\nanswered he and told them all that had befallen him, adding, 'My\nfather-in-law hath bound me to pay a dowry of ten thousand dinars\nfor her and they have given me ten days' time.' 'Have no care and\nthink nought but good,' said one of the dervishes; 'for I am head\nof the convent and have forty dervishes under my hand. I will\ngather thee from them the ten thousand dinars and thou shalt pay\nthy father-in-law the dowry. But now bid thy wife make us music,\nthat we may be heartened and solaced, for to some music is food,\nto others medicine and to others refreshment.'[FN#103] Now\nthese four dervishes were none other than the Khalif Haroun er\nReshid and his Vizier Jaafer the Barmecide and Abou Nuwas ben\nHani[FN#104] and Mesrour the headsman; and the reason of their\ncoming thither was that the Khalif, being heavy at heart, had\ncalled his Vizier and signified to him his wish to go forth and\nwalk about the city, to divert himself. So they all four donned\ndervish habits and went out and walked about, till they came to\nZubeideh's house and hearing music, were minded to know the\ncause. They spent the night in mirth and harmony and discourse,\ntill the morning, when the Khalif laid a hundred dinars under the\nprayer-carpet and taking leave of Alaeddin, went his way, he and\nhis companions. Presently, Zubeideh lifted the carpet and finding\nthe hundred dinars, gave them to her husband, saying, 'Take these\nhundred dinars that I have found under the prayer-carpet; the\ndervishes must have laid them there, without our knowledge.' So\nhe took the money and repairing to the market, bought meat and\nrice and butter and so forth. When it was night, he lighted the\ncandled and said to Zubeideh, 'The dervishes have not brought the\nten thousand dinars that they promised me: but indeed they are\npoor men.' As they were talking, the dervishes knocked at the\ndoor and she said, 'Go down and open to them.' So he went down\nand bringing them up, said to them, 'Have you brought me the ten\nthousand dinars?' 'We have not been able to get aught thereof as\nyet,' answered they, 'but fear nothing: to-morrow, God willing,\nwe will make an alchymic operation for thee. But now bid thy wife\nplay her best to us and gladden our hearts, for we love music.'\nSo she made them music, that would have caused the very rocks to\ndance; and they passed the night in mirth and converse and good\ncheer, till the morning appeared with its light and shone, when\nthey took leave of Alaeddin and went their way, after laying\nother hundred dinars under the carpet. They continued to visit\nhim thus every night for nine nights, and each morning the Khalif\nput a hundred dinars under the prayer-carpet, till the tenth\nnight, when they came not. Now the reason for their failure to\ncome was that the Khalif had sent to a great merchant, saying to\nhim, 'Bring me fifty loads of stuffs, such as come from Cairo,\neach worth a thousand dinars, and write on each bale its price;\nand bring me also a male Abyssinian slave.' The merchant did the\nbidding of the Khalif, who write a letter to Alaeddin, as from\nhis father Shemseddin, and committed it to the slave, together\nwith the fifty loads and a basin and ewer of gold and other\npresents, saying to him, 'Take these bales and what else and go\nto such and such a quarter and enquire for Alaeddin Abou esh\nShamat, at the house of the Provost of the merchants.' So the\nslave took the letter and the goods and went out on his errand.\n\nMeanwhile the lady's first husband went to her father and said to\nhim, 'Come, let us go to Alaeddin and make him divorce my\ncousin.' So they set out, and when they came to the street in\nwhich Zubeideh's house stood, they found fifty mules, laden with\nstuffs, and a black slave riding on a she-mule. So they said to\nhim, 'Whose goods are these?' 'They belong to my lord Alaeddin\nAbou esh Shamat,' answered he. 'His father equipped him with\nmerchandise and sent him on a journey to Baghdad; but the\nBedouins fell on him and took all he had. So when the news of his\ndespoilment reached his father, he despatched me to him with\nthese fifty loads, in place of those he had lost, besides a mule\nladen with fifth thousand dinars and a parcel of clothes worth\nmuch money and a cloak of sables and a basin and ewer of gold.'\nWhen the old merchant heard this, he said, 'He whom thou seekest\nis my son-in-law and I will show thee his house.' Now Alaeddin\nwas sitting in great concern, when one knocked at the door, and\nhe said, 'O Zubeideh, God is all-knowing! Thy father hath surely\nsent me an officer from the Cadi or the Chief of the Police.' 'Go\ndown,' said she, 'and see what it is.' So he went down and\nopening the door, found his father-in-law, with an Abyssinian\nslave, dusky-hued and pleasant of favour, riding on a mule. When\nthe slave saw him, he alighted and kissed his hands: and Alaeddin\nsaid, 'What dost thou want?' Quoth he, 'I am the slave of my load\nAlaeddin Abou esh Shamat, son of Shemseddin, Provost of the\nmerchants of Cairo, who has sent me to him with this charge.'\nThen he gave him the letter and Alaeddin, opening it, read what\nfollows:\n\nHarkye, my letter, when my beloved sees thee, Kiss thou the earth\n     before him and his shoes.\nLook thou go softly and hasten not nor hurry, For in his hands\n     are my life and my repose.\n\nThen after the usual salutations from Shemseddin to his son, the\nletter proceeded thus: 'Know, O my son, that news hath reached me\nof the slaughter of thy men and the plunder of thy baggage; so I\nsend thee herewith fifty loads of Egyptian stuffs, together with\na suit of clothes and a cloak of sables and an ewer and basin of\ngold. Fear no evil and be not anywise troubled, for, O my son,\nthe goods thou hast lost were the ransom of thy life. Thy mother\nand the people of the house are well and in good case and send\nthee many greetings. Moreover, O my son, I hear that they have\nmarried thee, by way of intermediation, to the lady Zubeideh the\nLutanist and have imposed on thee a dowry of ten thousand dinars;\nwherefore I send thee also fifty thousand dinars by thy slave\nSelim, the bearer of these presents, whereout thou mayest pay the\ndowry and provide thyself with the rest.' When Alaeddin had made\nan end of reading the letter, he took possession of the goods and\nturning to the old merchant, said to him, 'O my father-in-law,\ntake the ten thousand dinars, thy daughter's dowry, and take also\nthe loads of goods and dispose of them, and thine be the profit;\nonly return me the cost-price.' 'Nay, by Allah,' answered he, 'I\nwill take nothing; and as for thy wife's dowry, do thou settle it\nwith her.' Then they went in to Zubeideh, after the goods had\nbeen brought in, and she said to her father, 'O my father, whose\ngoods are these?' 'They belong to thy husband Alaeddin,' answered\nhe; 'his father hath sent them to him in place of those of which\nthe Bedouins spoiled him. Moreover, he hath sent him fifty\nthousand dinars and a parcel of clothes and a cloak of sables and\na riding mule and an ewer and basin of gold. As for the dower,\nthat is thine affair.' Thereupon Alaeddin rose and opening the\nchest [of money] gave her her dowry. Then said the lady's cousin,\n'O my uncle, let him divorce to me my wife;' but the old man\nreplied, 'This may never be now, for the marriage-tie is in his\nhand.' With this the young man went out, sore afflicted, and\nreturning home, fell sick, for he had received his death-blow; so\nhe took to his bed and presently died. But as for Alaeddin, he\nwent to the market and buying what victual he needed, made a\nbanquet as usual against the night, saying to Zubeideh, 'See\nthese lying dervishes; they promised us and broke their promise.'\nQuoth she, 'Thou art the son of a Provost of the merchants yet\ndid thy hand lack of a para; how then should it be with poor\ndervishes?' 'God the Most High hath enabled us to do without\nthem,' answered Alaeddin; 'but never again will I open the door\nto them.' 'Why so,' asked she, 'seeing that their coming brought\nus good luck, and moreover, they put a hundred dinars under the\nprayer-carpet for us every night? So needs must thou open to\nthem, if they come.' So when the day departed with its light and\nthe night came, they lighted the candles and he said to her,\n'Come, Zubeideh, make us music.' At this moment some one knocked\nat the door, and she said, 'Go and see who is at the door.' So he\nwent down and opened it and seeing the dervishes, said, 'Welcome\nto the liars! Come up.' Accordingly, they went up with him, and\nhe made them sit down and brought them the tray of food. So they\nate and drank and made merry and presently said to him, 'O my\nlord, our hearts have been troubled for thee: what hath passed\nbetween thee and thy father-in-law?' 'God hath compensated us\nbeyond our desire,' answered he. 'By Allah,' rejoined they, 'we\nwere in fear for thee and nought kept us from thee but our lack\nof money.' Quoth he, 'My Lord hath vouchsafed me speedy relief;\nfor my father hath sent me fifty thousand dinars and fifty loads\nof stuffs, each worth a thousand dinars, besides an Abyssinian\nslave and a riding mule and a suit of clothes and a basin and an\newer of gold. Moreover, I have made my peace with my father-in-\nlaw and my wife is confirmed to me; so praised be God for this!'\nPresently the Khalif rose to do an occasion; whereupon Jaafer\nturned to Alaeddin and said to him, 'Look to thy manners, for\nthou art in the presence of the Commander of the Faithful.' 'How\nhave I failed in good breeding before the Commander of the\nFaithful,' asked he, 'and which of you is he?' Quoth Jaafer, 'He\nwho went out but now is the Commander of the Faithful and I am\nthe Vizier Jaafer: this is Mesrour the headsman, and this other\nis Abou Nuwas ben Hani. And now, O Alaeddin, use thy reason and\nbethink thee how many days' journey it is from Cairo hither.'\n'Five-and-forty days' journey,' answered he, and Jaafer rejoined,\n'Thy baggage was stolen but ten days ago; so how could the news\nhave reached thy father, and how could he pack thee up other\ngoods and send them to thee five-and-forty days' journey in ten\ndays' time?' 'O my lord,' said Alaeddin, 'and whence then came\nthey?' 'From the Commander of the Faithful,' replied Jaafer, 'of\nhis much affection for thee.' As he spoke, the Khalif entered and\nAlaeddin, rising, kissed the ground before him and said, 'God\nkeep thee, O Commander of the Faithful, and give thee long life,\nso the folk may not lack thy bounty and beneficence!' 'O\nAlaeddin,' replied the Khalif, 'let Zubeideh play us an air, by\nway of thank-offering for thy deliverance.' So she played him\nthe rarest of measures on the lute, till the very stones shook\nfor delight and the strings cried out for ecstasy, 'O Loving\nOne!'[FN#105] They spent the night after the merriest fashion,\nand in the morning, the Khalif said to Alaeddin, 'Come to the\nDivan to-morrow.' 'I hear and obey, O Commander of the Faithful,'\nanswered he, 'so it please God and thou be well and in good\ncase.' So on the morrow he took ten trays and putting a costly\npresent on each, went up with them to the palace. As the Khalif\nwas sitting on the throne, Alaeddin appeared at the door of the\nDivan, repeating the following verses:\n\nGood fortune and glory still wait on thy days And rubbed in the\n     dust be thine envier's nose!\nMay the days never stint to be white unto thee And black with\n     despite be the days of thy foes!\n\n'Welcome, O Alaeddin!' sad the Khalif, and he replied, 'O\nCommander of the Faithful, the Prophet (whom God bless and\npreserve) accepted presents; and these ten trays, with what is on\nthem, are my present to thee.' The Khalif accepted his gift and\nordering him a robe of honour, made him Provost of the merchants\nand gave him a seat in the Divan. Presently, his father-in-law\ncame in, and seeing Alaeddin seated in his place and clad in a\nrobe of honour, said to the Khalif, 'O King of the age, why is\nthis man sitting in my place and wearing this robe of honour?'\nQuoth the Khalif, 'I have made him Provost of the merchants, and\nthou art deposed; for offices are by investiture and not in\nperpetuity.' 'Thou hast done well, O Commander of the Faithful,'\nanswered the merchant; 'for he is art and part of us. May God\nmake the best of us the orderers of our affairs! How many a\nlittle one hath become great!' Then the Khalif wrote Alaeddin a\npatent [of investiture] and gave it to the Master of Police, who\ngave it to the crier and the latter made proclamation in the\nDivan, saying, 'None is Provost of the merchants but Alaeddin\nAbou esh Shamat, and it behoves all to give heed to his words and\npay him respect and honour and consideration!' Moreover, when the\nDivan broke up, the Master of the Police took Alaeddin and\ncarried him through the thoroughfares of Baghdad, whilst the\ncrier went before him, making proclamation of his dignity. Next\nday, Alaeddin opened a shop for his slave Selim and set him\ntherein, to buy and sell, whilst he himself rode to the palace\nand took his place in the Khalif's Divan.\n\nOne day, as he sat in his place, one said to the Khalif, 'O\nCommander of the Faithful, may thy head survive such an one the\nboon-companion! He is gone to the mercy of God the Most High, but\nmay thy life be prolonged!' Quoth the Khalif, 'Where is Alaeddin\nAbou esh Shamat?' So he went up to the Commander of the Faithful,\nwho clad him in a splendid dress of honour and made him his boon-\ncompanion in the dead man's room, appointing him a monthly wage\nof a thousand dinars. He continued to fill his new office till,\none day, as he sat in the Divan, according to his wont, an Amir\ncame up with a sword and shield in his hand and said, 'O\nCommander of the Faithful, mayst thou outlive the Chief of the\nSixty, for he is this day dead;' whereupon the Khalif ordered\nAlaeddin a dress of honour and made him Chief of the Sixty, in\nplace of the dead man, who had neither wife nor child. So\nAlaeddin laid hands on his estate, and the Khalif said to him,\n'Bury him in the earth and take all he hath left of wealth and\nslaves, male and female.' Then he shook the handkerchief and\ndismissed the Divan, whereupon Alaeddin went forth, attended by\nAhmed ed Denef, captain of the right hand, and Hassan Shouman,\ncaptain of the left hand troop of the Khalif's guard, riding at\nhis either stirrup, each with his forty men. Presently, he turned\nto Hassan Shouman and his men and said to them, 'Plead ye for me\nwith Captain Ahmed ed Denef, that he accept me as his son before\nGod.' And Ahmed ed Denef assented, saying, 'I and my forty men\nwill go before thee to the Divan every day.'\n\nAfter this, Alaeddin abode in the Khalif's service many days;\ntill one day it chanced that he left the Divan and returning\nhome, dismissed Ahmed ed Denef and his men and sat down with his\nwife, who lighted the candles and went out of the room upon an\noccasion. Presently, he heard a great cry and running in haste to\nsee what was the matter, found that it was his wife who had cried\nout. She was lying prone on the groudn and when he put his hand\nto her breast, he found her dead. Now her father's house faced\nthat of Alaeddin, and he, hearing her cry out, came in and said,\n'What is the matter, O my lord Alaeddin?' 'O my father,' answered\nhe, 'may thy head outlive thy daughter Zubeideh! But the honour\nwe owe the dead is to bury them.' So, on the morrow, they buried\nher in the earth and her husband and father condoled with each\nother. Moreover, Alaeddin put on mourning apparel and absented\nhimself from the Divan, abiding tearful-eyed and sorrowful-\nhearted. After awhile, the Khalif said to Jaafer, 'O Vizier, what\nis the cause of Alaeddin's absence from the Divan?' 'O Commander\nof the Faithful,' answered Jaafer, 'he is in mourning for his\nwife Zubeideh;' and the Khalif said, 'It behoves us to pay him a\nvisit of condolence.' 'I hear and obey,' replied Jaafer. So they\ntook horse and riding to Alaeddin's house, came in upon him with\ntheir attendants, as he sat at home; whereupon he rose to receive\nthem and kissed the earth before the Khalif, who said to him,\n'May God abundantly make good thy loss to thee!' 'May He preserve\nthee to us, O Commander of the Faithful!' answered Alaeddin. Then\nsaid the Khalif, 'O Alaeddin, why hast thou absented thyself from\nthe Divan?' And he replied, 'Because of my mourning for my wife\nZubeideh, O Commander of the Faithful.' 'Put away grief from\nthee,' rejoined the prince. 'She is dead and gone to the mercy of\nGod the Most High, and mourning will avail thee nothing.' But\nAlaeddin said, 'O Commander of the Faithful, I shall never leave\nmourning for her till I die and they bury me by her side.' Quoth\nHaroun, 'With God is compensation for every loss, and neither\nwealth nor device can deliver from death. God bless him who said:\n\nEvery son of woman, how long soe'er his life be, Must one day be\n     carried upon the bulging bier.\nHow shall he have pleasure in life or hold it goodly, He unto\n     whose cheeks the dust must soon adhere?'\n\nThen, when he had made an end of condoling with him, he charged\nhim not to absent himself from the Divan and returned to his\npalace. On the morrow, Alaeddin mounted and riding to the court,\nkissed the ground before the Khalif, who rose from the throne, to\ngreet and welcome him, and bade him take his appointed place in\nthe Divan saying, 'O Alaeddin, thou art my guest to-night.' So\npresently he carried him into his seraglio and calling a slave-\ngirl named Cout el Culoub, said to her, 'Alaeddin had a wife\ncalled Zubeideh, who used to sing to him and solace him of care\nand trouble; but she is gone to the mercy of God the Most High,\nand now I desire that thou play him an air of thy rarest fashion\non the lute, that he may be diverted from his grief and\nmourning.' So she rose and made rare music; and the Khalif said\nto Alaeddin, 'What sayst thou of this damsel's voice?' 'O\nCommander of the Faithful', answered he, 'Zubeideh's voice was\nthe finer; but she is rarely skilled in touching the lute, and\nher playing would make a rock dance.' 'Doth she please thee?'\nasked the Khalif. 'Yes, O Commander of the Faithful,' answered\nAlaeddin, and Haroun said, 'By the life of my head and the tombs\nof my forefathers, she is a gift from me to thee, she and her\nwaiting-women!' Alaeddin thought that the Khalif was jesting with\nhim; but, on the morrow, he went in to Cout el Culoub and said to\nher, 'I have given thee to Alaeddin;' whereat she rejoiced, for\nshe had seen and loved him. Then the Khalif returned to the Divan\nand calling porters, said to them, 'Set Cout el Culoub and her\nwaiting-women in a litter and carry them, together with her\ngoods, to Alaeddin's house.' So they did as he bade them and left\nher in the upper chamber of Alaeddin's house, whilst the Khalif\nsat in the hall of audience till the close of the day, when the\nDivan broke up and he retired to his harem.\n\nMeanwhile, Cout el Culoub, having taken up her lodging in\nAlaeddin's house, with her women, forty in all, besides eunuchs,\ncalled two of the latter and said to them, 'Sit ye on stools, one\non the right and another on the left hand of the door; and when\nAlaeddin comes home, kiss his hands and say to him, \"Our mistress\nCout el Culoub bids thee to her in the upper chamber, for the\nKhalif hath given her to thee, her and her women.\"' 'We hear and\nobey,' answered they and did as she bade them. So, when Alaeddin\nreturned, he found two of the Khalif's eunuchs sitting at the\ndoor and was amazed and said to himself, 'Surely, this is not my\nown house; or else what can have happened?' When the eunuchs saw\nhim, they rose and kissing his hands, said to him, 'We are of the\nKhalif's household and servants to Cout el Culoub, who salutes\nthee, giving thee to know that the Khalif hath bestowed her on\nthee, her and her women, and craves thy company.' Quoth Alaeddin,\n'Say ye to her, \"Thou art welcome; but so long as thou abidest\nwith me, I will not enter thy lodging, for it befits not that\nwhat was the master's should become the servant's;\" and ask her\nalso what was the sum of her day's expense in the Khalif's\npalace.' So they went in to her and did his errand to her, and\nshe replied, 'A hundred dinars a day;' whereupon quoth he in\nhimself, 'There was no need for the Khalif to give me Cout el\nCuloub, that I should be put to such an expense for her; but\nthere is no help for it.' So she abode with him awhile and he\nassigned her daily a hundred dinars for her maintenance, till,\none day, he absented himself from the Divan and the Khalif said\nto Jaafer, 'O Vizier, I gave Cout el Culoub unto Alaeddin, that\nshe might console him for his wife; but why doth he still hold\naloof from us?' 'O Commander of the Faithful,' answered Jaafer,\n'he spoke sooth who said, \"Whoso findeth his beloved, forgetteth\nhis friends.\"' 'Belike he hath excuse for his absence,' rejoined\nthe Khalif; 'but we will pay him a visit.' (Now some days before\nthis, Alaeddin had said to Jaafer, 'I complained to the Khalif of\nmy grief for the loss of my wife Zubeideh, and he gave me Cout el\nCuloub.' And Jaafer replied, 'Except he loved thee, he had not\ngiven her to thee.' Hast thou gone in to her?' 'No, by Allah!\nanswered Alaeddin. 'I know not her length from her breadth.' 'And\nwhy?' asked Jaafer. 'O Vizier,' replied Alaeddin, 'what befits\nthe master befits not the servant.') Then the Khalif and Jaafer\ndisguised themselves and went privily to visit Alaeddin; but he\nknew them and rising to them, kissed the hands of the Khalif, who\nlooked at him and read trouble in his face. So he said to him, 'O\nAlaeddin, whence cometh this trouble in which I see thee? Hast\nthou gone in to Cout el Culoub?' 'O Commander of the Faithful,'\nanswered he, 'what befits the master befits not the servant. No,\nI have not gone in to her nor do I know her length from her\nbreadth; so do thou quit me of her.' Quoth the Khalif, 'I would\nfain see her and question her of her case.' And Alaeddin replied,\n'I hear and obey, O Commander of the Faithful.' So the Khalif\nwent in to Cout el Culoub, who rose and kissed the ground before\nhim, and said to her, 'Hath Alaeddin gone in to thee?' 'No, O\nCommander of the Faithful,' answered she; 'I sent to bid him to\nme, but he would not come.' So he bade carry her back to the\nharem and saying to Alaeddin, 'Do not absent thyself from us,'\nreturned to his palace. Accordingly, next morning, Alaeddin\nmounted and rode to the Divan, where he took his seat as Chief of\nthe Sixty. Presently the Khalif bade his treasurer give the\nVizier Jaafer ten thousand dinars and said to the latter, 'I\ncharge thee to go down to the slave-market and buy Alaeddin a\nslave-girl with this sum.' So Jaafer took Alaeddin and went down\nwith him to the bazaar. As change would have it, that very day,\nthe Amir Khalid, Chief of the Baghdad Police, had gone down to\nthe market to buy a slave-girl for his son Hebezlem Bezazeh. Now\nthis son he had by his wife Khatoun, and he was foul of favour\nand had reached the age of twenty, without learning to ride,\nalbeit his father was a valiant cavalier and a doughty champion\nand delighted in battle and adventure. One night, he had a dream\nof dalliance in sleep and told his mother, who rejoiced and told\nhis father, saying, 'Fain would I find him a wife, for he is now\napt for marriage.' Quoth Khalid, 'He is so foul of favour and\nwithal so evil of odour, so sordid and churlish, that no woman\nwould accept of him.' And she answered, 'We will buy him a slave-\ngirl.' So it befell, for the accomplishment of that which God the\nMost High had decreed, that the Amir and his son went down, on\nthe same day as Jaafer and Alaeddin, to the market, where they\nsaw a beautiful girl, full of grace and symmetry, in the hands of\na broker, and the Vizier said to the latter, 'O broker, ask her\nowner if he will take a thousand dinars for her.' The broker\npassed by the Amir and his son with the slave and Hebezlem took\none look of her, that cost him a thousand sighs; and he fell\npassionately in love with her and said, 'O my father, buy me\nyonder slave-girl.' So the Amir called the broker, who brought\nthe girl to him, and asked her her name. 'My name is Jessamine,'\nreplied she; and he said to Hebezlem, 'O my son, an she please\nthee, bid for her.' Then he asked the broker what had been bidden\nfor her and he replied, 'A thousand dinars.' 'She is mine for a\nthousand and one,' said Hebezlem, and the broker passed on to\nAlaeddin, who bid two thousand dinars for her; and as often as\nHebezlem bid another dinar, Alaeddin bid a thousand. The Amir's\nson was vexed at this and said to the broker, 'Who is it that\nbids against me for the slave-girl?' 'It is the Vizier Jaafer,'\nanswered the broker, 'who is minded to buy her for Alaeddin Abou\nesh Shamat.' Alaeddin continued to bid for her till he brought\nher price up to ten thousand dinars, and her owner sold her to\nhim for that sum. So he took the girl and said to her, 'I give\nthee thy freedom for the love of God the Most High.' Then he\nmarried her and carried her to his house. When the broker\nreturned, after having delivered the girl and received his\nbrokerage, Hebezlem called him and said to him, 'Where is the\ngirl?' Quoth he, 'She was bought for ten thousand dinars by\nAlaeddin, who hath set her free and married her.' At this the\nyoung man was greatly cast down and heaving many a sigh, returned\nhome, sick for love of the damsel. He threw himself on his bed\nand refused food, and passion and love-longing were sore upon\nhim. When his mother saw him in this plight, she said to him,\n'God keep thee, O my son! What ails thee?' And he answered, 'Buy\nme Jessamine, O my mother.' 'When the flower-seller passes,' said\nshe, 'I will buy thee a basketful of jessamine.' Quoth he, 'It is\nnot the jessamine one smells I want, but a slave girl named\nJessamine, whom my father would not buy for me.' So she said to\nher husband, 'Why didst thou not buy him the girl?' And he\nreplied, 'What is fit for the master is not fit for the servant,\nand I have no power to take her; for no less a man bought her\nthan Alaeddin, Chief of the Sixty.' Then the youth's weakness\nredoubled upon him, till he could neither sleep nor eat, and his\nmother bound her head with the fillets of mourning. Presently, as\nshe sat at home, lamenting over her son, there came in to her an\nold woman, known as the mother of Ahmed Kemakim the arch-thief, a\nknave who would bore through the stoutest wall and scale the\nhighest and steal the very kohl from the eye. From his earliest\nyears he had been given to these foul practices, till they made\nhim captain of the watch, when he committed a robbery and the\nChief of the Police, taking him in the act, carried him to the\nKhalif, who bade put him to death. But he sought protection of\nthe Vizier, whose intercession the Khalif never rejected; so he\npleaded for him with the Commander of the Faithful, who said,\n'How canst thou intercede for a wretch who is the pest of the\nhuman race?' 'O Commander of the Faithful,' replied Jaafer, 'do\nthou imprison him; he who built the [first] prison was a sage,\nseeing that a prison is the sepulchre of the live and a cause for\ntheir enemies to exult.' So the Khalif bade lay him in chains and\nwrite thereon, 'Appointed to remain until death and not to be\nloosed but on the bench of the washer of the dead.' And they\nfettered him and cast him into prison. Now his mother was a\nfrequent visitor to the house of the Master of the Police and\nused to go in to her son in prison and say to him, 'Did I not\nwarn thee to turn from thy wicked ways?' 'God decreed this to\nme,' would he answer; 'but, O my mother, when thou visitest the\nAmir's wife, make her intercede for me with her husband.' So when\nthe old woman came in to the Lady Khatoun, she found her bound\nwith the fillets of mourning and said to her, 'Wherefore dost\nthou mourn?' 'For my son Hebezlem Bezazeh,' answered she, and the\nold woman exclaimed, 'God keep thy son! What hath befallen him?'\nSo Khatoun told her the whole story, and she said, 'What wouldst\nthou say of him who should find means to save thy son?' 'And what\nwilt thou do?' asked the lady. Quoth the old woman, 'I have a son\ncalled Ahmed Kemakim the arch-thief, who lies chained in prison,\nand on his fetters is written, \"Appointed to remain till death.\"\nSo do thou don thy richest clothes and trinkets and present\nthyself to thy husband with an open and smiling favour; and when\nhe seeks of thee what men use to seek of women, put him off and\nsay, \"By Allah, it is a strange thing! When a man desires aught\nof his wife, he importunes her till she satisfies him; but if a\nwife desire aught of her husband, he will not grant it to her.\"\nThen he will say, \"What dost thou want?\" And do thou answer,\n\"First swear to grant my request.\" If he swear to thee by his\nhead or by Allah, say to him, \"Swear to me the oath of divorce,\"\nand so not yield to him, except he do this. Then, if he swear to\nthee the oath of divorce, say to him, \"Thou hast in prison a man\ncalled Ahmed Kemakim, and he has a poor mother, who is instant\nwith me to urge thee to intercede for him with the Khalif, that\nhe may relent towards him and thou earn a reward from God.\"' 'I\nhear and obey,' answered Khatoun. So when her husband came in to\nher, she did as the old woman had taught her and extorted the\nrequired oath from him, before she would yield to his wishes. He\nlay with her that night and on the morrow, after he had made his\nablutions and prayed the morning prayers, he repaired to the\nprison and said to Ahmed Kemakim, 'Harkye, O arch-thief, dost\nthou repent of thy ill deeds?' 'I do indeed repent and turn to\nGod,' answered he, 'and say with heart and tongue, \"I ask pardon\nof Allah.\"' So he carried him, still chained, to the Divan and\nkissed the earth before the Khalif, who said to him, 'O Amir\nKhalid, what seekest thou?' Then he brought forward Ahmed\nKemakim, shuffling in his fetters, and the Khalif said to him, 'O\nKemakim, art thou yet alive?' 'O Commander of the Faithful,'\nanswered he, 'the wretched are long-lived.' Then said the Khalif\nto the Amir, 'Why have thou brought him hither?' And he replied,\n'O Commander of the Faithful, he hath a poor, desolate mother,\nwho hath none but him, and she hath had recourse to thy slave,\nimploring him to intercede with thee to set him free and make him\nCaptain of the Watch as before; for he repenteth of his evil\ncourses.' Quoth the Khalif to Ahmed, 'Dost thou repent of thy\nsins?' 'I do indeed repent to God, O Commander of the Faithful,'\nanswered he; whereupon the Khalif called for the blacksmith and\nmade him strike off his irons on the bench of the washer of the\ndead. Moreover, he restored him to his former office and charged\nhim to walk in the way of good and righteousness. So he kissed\nthe Khalif's hands and donning the captain's habit, went forth,\nwhilst they made proclamation of his appointment.\n\nHe abode awhile in the exercise of his office, till, one day, his\nmother went in to the wife of the Chief of the Police, who said\nto her, 'Praised be God who hath delivered thy son from prison\nand restored him to health and safety! But why dost thou not bid\nhim cast about to get the girl Jessamine for my son Hebezlem\nBezazeh?' 'That will I,' answered she and going out from her,\nrepaired to her son. She found him drunken and said to him, 'O my\nson, none was the cause of thy release from prison but the wife\nof the Master of Police, and she would have thee go about to kill\nAlaeddin Abou esh Shamat and get his slave-girl Jessamine for her\nson Hebezlem Bezazeh.' 'That will be the easiest of things,'\nanswered he, 'and I will set about it this very night.' Now this\nwas the first night of the new month, and it was the Khalif's\nwont to pass that night with the Princess Zubeideh, for the\nsetting free of a male or female slave or what not else of the\nlike. On this occasion, he used to doff his royal habit and lay\nit upon a chair in the sitting-chamber, together with his rosary\nand dagger and royal signet and a golden lantern, adorned with\nthree jewels strung on a wire of gold, by which he set great\nstore, committing all these things to the charge of the eunuchs,\nwhilst he sent into the Lady Zubeideh's apartment. So Ahmed\nKemakim waited till midnight, when Canopus shone and all\ncreatures slept, whilst the Creator covered them with the curtain\n[of the dark]. Then he took his naked sword in one hand and his\ngrappling iron in the other, and repairing to the Khalif's\npavilion, cast his grapnel on to the roof. It caught there and he\nfixed his rope-ladder and climbed up to the roof; then, raising\nthe trap-door, let himself down into the saloon, where he found\nthe eunuchs asleep. So he drugged them with henbane and taking\nthe Khalif's dress and dagger and rosary and handkerchief and\nsignet-ring and lantern, returned whence he came and betook\nhimself to the house of Alaeddin, who had that night celebrated\nhis wedding festivities with Jessamine and had gone in to her and\ngotten her with child. Ahmed climbed over into his saloon and\nraising one of the marble slabs of the floor, dug a hole under it\nand laid the stolen things therein, all save the lantern, which\nhe kept, saying in himself, 'I will set it before me, when I sit\nat wine, and drink by its light.' Then he plastered down the\nmarble slab, as it was, and returning whence he came, went back\nto his own house. As soon as it was day, the Khalif went out into\nthe sitting-chamber, and finding the eunuchs drugged with\nhenbane, aroused them. Then he put his hand to the chair and\nfound neither dress nor signet nor rosary nor dagger nor lantern;\nwhereat he was exceeding wroth and donning the habit of anger,\nwhich was red, sat down in the Divan. So the Vizier Jaafer came\nforward and kissing the earth before him, said, 'May God avert\nthe wrath of the Commander of the Faithful!' 'O Vizier,' answered\nthe Khalif, 'I am exceeding wroth!'[FN#106] 'What has happened?'\nasked Jaafer; so he told him what had happened and when the Chief\nof the Police appeared, with Ahmed Kemakim at his stirrup, he\nsaid to him, 'O Amir Khalid, how goes Baghdad?' And he answered,\n'It is safe and quiet.' 'Thou liest!' rejoined the Khalif. 'How\nso, O Commander of the Faithful?' asked the Amir. So he told him\nthe case and added, 'I charge thee to bring me back all the\nstolen things.' 'O Commander of the Faithful', replied the Amir,\n'the vinegar-worm is of and in the vinegar, and no stranger can\nget at this place.'[FN#107] But the Khalif said, 'Except thou\nbring me these things, I will put thee to death.' Quoth Khalid,\n'Ere thou slay me, slay Ahmed Kemakim, for none should know the\nrobber and the traitor but the captain of the watch.' Then came\nforward Ahmed Kemakim and said to the Khalif, 'Accept my\nintercession for the Master of Police, and I will be responsible\nto thee for the thief and will follow his track till I find him;\nbut give me two Cadis and two Assessors, for he who did this\nthing feareth thee not, nor doth he fear the Chief of the Police\nnor any other.' 'Thou shalt have what thou seekest,' answered the\nKhalif; 'but let search be made first in my palace and then in\nthose of the Vizier and the Chief of the Sixty.' 'Thou sayst\nwell, O Commander of the Faithful,' rejoined Ahmed; 'most like\nthe thief is one who had been reared in thy household or that of\none of thy chief officers.' 'As my head liveth,' said Haroun,\n'whosoever shall appear to have done the deed, I will put him to\ndeath, be it my very own son!' Then Ahmed Kemakim received a\nwritten warrant to enter and search the houses and taking in his\nhand a [divining] rod made of equal parts of bronze, copper, iron\nand steel, went forth, attended by the Cadis and Assessors and\nthe Chief of the Police. He first searched the palace of the\nKhalif, then that of the Vizier Jaafer; after which he went the\nround of the houses of the chamberlains and officers, till he\ncame to that of Alaeddin. When the latter heard the clamour\nbefore his house, he left his wife and opening the door, found\nthe Master of Police without, with a crowd of people. So he said,\n'What is the matter, O Amir Khalid?' The Chief of the Police told\nhim the case and Alaeddin said, 'Enter my house and search it.'\n'Pardon, O my lord,' replied the Amir; 'thou art a man in\nauthority,[FN#108] and God forbid that such should be guilty of\ntreason!' Quoth Alaeddin, 'Needs must my house be searched. So\nthey entered, and Ahmed Kemakim went straight to the saloon and\nlet the rod fall upon the slab, under which he had buried the\nstolen goods, with such force that the marble broke in sunder and\ndiscovered something that glistened underneath. Then said he, 'In\nthe name of God! what He willeth! Thanks to our coming, we have\nlit upon a treasure. Let us go down into this hiding-place and\nsee what is therein.' So the Cadis and Assessors looked down into\nthe hole and finding there the stolen goods, drew up a statement\nof how they had discovered them in Alaeddin's house, to which\nthey set their seals. Then they bade seize upon Alaeddin and took\nhis turban from his head, and making an inventory of all his\nproperty and effects, [sealed them up]. Meanwhile, Ahmed Kemakim\nlaid hands on Jessamine, who was with child by Alaeddin, and\ncommitted her to his mother, saying, 'Deliver her to the Lady\nKhatoun.' So the old woman took her and carried her to the wife\nof the Master of Police. As soon as Hebezlem saw her, health and\nstrength returned to him and he arose forthright, rejoicing\ngreatly, and would have drawn near her: but she pulled a dagger\nfrom her girdle and said, 'Keep off from me, or I will kill thee\nand myself after.' 'O strumpet,' exclaimed his mother, 'let my\nson have his will of thee!' But Jessamine answered, 'O bitch, by\nwhat code is it lawful for a woman to marry two husbands, and how\nshall the dog take the lion's place?' With this Hebezlem's\npassion redoubled and he sickened for unfulfilled desire and\nrefusing food, took to his bed again. Then said his mother to\nher, 'O harlot, how canst thou make me thus to sorrow for my son?\nNeeds must I punish thee, and as for Alaeddin, he will assuredly\nbe hanged.' 'And I will die for love of him,' answered Jessamine.\nThen Khatoun stripped her of her jewels and silken raiment and\nclothing her in sackcloth drawers and a shift of hair-cloth, sent\nher down into the kitchen and made her a scullery-wench, saying,\n'Thy punishment shall be to split wood and peel onions and set\nfire under the cooking pots.' Quoth she, 'I am willing to brook\nall manner of hardship and servitude, but not thy son's sight.'\nBut God inclined the hearts of the slave-girls to her and they\nused to do her service in the kitchen.\n\nMeanwhile, they carried Alaeddin to the Divan and brought him,\ntogether with the stolen goods, before the Khalif, who said,\n'Where did ye find them?' 'Amiddleward Alaeddin's house,'\nanswered they; whereat the Khalif was filled with wrath and took\nthe things, but found not the lantern among them, and said to\nAlaeddin, 'Where is the lantern?' 'I know nought of it,' answered\nhe; 'it was not I that stole it.' 'O traitor,' said the Khalif,\n'how comes it that I brought thee near unto me and thou hast cast\nme out, and I trusted in thee and thou hast betrayed me?' And he\ncommanded to hang him. So the Chief of the Police took him and\nwent down with him into the city, whilst the crier forewent them,\nproclaiming aloud and saying, 'This is the reward and the least\nof the reward of him who doth treason against the orthodox\nKhalifs!' And the folk flocked to the gallows.\n\nMeanwhile, Ahmed ed Denef, Alaeddin's adopted father, was\nsitting, making merry with his followers in a garden, when in\ncame one of the water-carriers of the Divan and kissing Ahmed's\nhand, said to him, 'O Captain, thou sittest at thine ease, with\nwater running at thy feet, and knowest not what has happened.'\n'What is to do?' asked Ahmed, and the other answered, 'They have\ngone down with thine adopted son, Alaeddin, to the gallows.'\n'O Hassan Shouman,' said Ahmed, 'What sayst thou of this?'\n'Assuredly, Alaeddin is innocent' replied his lieutenant; 'and\nthis is some enemy's practice against him.' Quoth Ahmed, 'What\ncounsellest thou?' And Hassan said, 'God willing, we must rescue\nhim.' Then he went to the prison and said to the gaoler, 'Give us\nsome one deserving of death.' So he gave him one that was likest\nto Alaeddin and they covered his head and carried him to the\nplace of execution between Ahmed ed Denef and Ali ez Zibec of\nCairo. Now they had brought Alaeddin to the gibbet, to hang him,\nbut Ahmed ed Denef came forward and set his foot on that of the\nhangman, who said, 'Give me room to do my office.' 'O accursed\none,' replied Ahmed, 'take this man and hang him in Alaeddin's\nstead; for he is innocent and we will ransom him with this\nfellow, even as Abraham ransomed Ishmael[FN#109] with the ram.'\nSo the hangman took the man and hanged him in Alaeddin's room.\nThen Ahmed and Ali took Alaeddin and carried him to the house of\nthe former, to whom said he, 'O my father, may God abundantly\nrequite thee!' 'O Alaeddin,' said Ahmed, 'what is this thou hast\ndone? God's mercy on him who said, \"Whoso trusteth in thee,\nbetray him not, though thou be a traitor.\" Now the Khalif set\nthee in high place about him and styled thee \"Trusty\" and\n\"Faithful;\" how then couldst thou deal thus with him and steal\nhis goods?' 'By the Most Great Name, O my father,' replied\nAlaeddin, 'I had no hand in this, nor do I know who did it.'\nQuoth Ahmed, 'Of a surety none did this but a manifest enemy and\nwhoso doth aught shall be requited for his deed; but, O Alaeddin,\nthou canst tarry no longer in Baghdad, for kings, O my son, may\nnot be bought off and longsome is his travail whom they pursue.'\n'Whither shall I go, O my father?' asked Alaeddin. 'O my son,'\nanswered Ahmed, 'I will bring thee to Alexandria, for it is a\nblessed place; its environs are green and its sojourn pleasant.'\nAnd Alaeddin said, 'I hear and obey, O my father.' So Ahmed said\nto Hassan Shouman, 'Be mindful and when the Khalif asks for me,\nsay I am gone on a circuit of the provinces.' Then, taking\nAlaeddin, he went forth of Baghdad and stayed not till they came\nto the vineyards and gardens, where they met two Jews of the\nKhalif's tax-gatherers, riding on mules, and Ahmed said to them,\n'Give me the guard-money.'[FN#110] 'Why should we give thee\nguard-money?' asked they. 'Because,' answered he, 'I am the\npatrol of this valley.' So they gave him each a hundred dinars,\nafter which he slew them and took their mules, one of which he\nmounted, whilst Alaeddin bestrode the other. Then they rode on,\ntill they came to the city of Ayas[FN#111] and put up for the\nnight at an inn. Next morning, Alaeddin sold his own mule and\ncommitted that of Ahmed to the charge of the doorkeeper of the\ninn, after which they took ship from the port of Ayas and sailed\nto Alexandria. Here they landed and proceeded to the Bazaar,\nwhere they found a broker crying a shop and a chamber behind it\nfor sale. The last bidding for the premises (which belonged to\nthe Treasury) was nine hundred and fifty dirhems;[FN#112] so\nAlaeddin bid a thousand and his offer being accepted, took the\nkeys and opened the shop and room, which latter he found\nfurnished with carpets and cushions. Moreover, he found there a\nstorehouse full of sails and masts and ropes and chests and bags\nof beads and shells and stirrups and axes and maces and knives\nand scissors and what not else, for the last owner of the shop\nhad been a dealer in second-hand goods. So he took his seat in\nthe shop and Ahmed ed Denef said to him, 'O my son, the shop and\nroom and that which is therein are become thine; so abide thou\nhere and buy and sell and grudge not, neither repine; for God the\nMost High blesseth trade.' After this he abode with him three\ndays and on the fourth he took leave of him, saying, 'O my son,\nabide here till I bring thee the Khalif's pardon and learn who\nhath played thee this trick.' Then he took ship for Ayas,\nwhere he took the mule from the inn and returning to Baghdad,\nforegathered with Hassan Shouman, to whom said he, 'Has the\nKhalif asked for me?' 'No,' answered Hassan, 'nor hath thou come\nto his thought.' So he resumed his service about the Khalif's\nperson and set himself to seek news of Alaeddin's case, till one\nday he heard the Khalif say to the Vizier, 'See, O Jaafer, how\nAlaeddin dealt with me!' 'O Commander of the Faithful,' replied\nJaafer, 'thou hast requited him with hanging, and it was what he\ndeserved.' Quoth Haroun, 'I have a mind to go down and see him\nhanging.' And the Vizier answered, 'As thou wilt, O Commander of\nthe Faithful.' So the Khalif and Jaafer went down to the place of\nexecution, and the former, raising his eyes, saw the hanged man\nto be other than Alaeddin and said to the Vizier, 'This is not\nAlaeddin.' 'How knowest thou that it is not he?' asked the\nVizier, and the Khalif answered, 'Alaeddin was short and this\nfellow is tall.' Quoth Jaafer, 'Hanging stretches a man.' 'But,'\nrejoined the Khalif, 'Alaeddin was fair and this man's face is\nblack.' 'Knowest thou not, O Commander of the Faithful,' replied\nJaafer, 'that death (by hanging) causes blackness?' Then the\nKhalif bade take down the body and they found the names of he\nfirst two Khalifs, Abou Bekr and Omar, written on his heels;\nwhereupon quoth the Khalif, 'O Vizier, Alaeddin was a Sunnite,\nand this fellow is a Shiyaite.'[FN#113] 'Glory be to God who\nknowest the hidden things!' answered Jaafer. 'We know not whether\nthis was he or another.' Then the Khalif bade bury the body and\nAlaeddin became altogether forgotten.\n\nAs for Hebezlem Bezazeh, the Amir Khalid's son, he ceased not to\nlanguish for passion and desire, till he died and they buried\nhim; whilst Jessamine accomplished the months of her pregnancy\nand being taken with the pains of labour, gave birth to a male\nchild like the moon. The serving-women said to her, 'What wilt\nthou name him?' And she answered, 'Were his father alive, he had\nnamed him; but now I will name him Aslan.' She gave him suck two\nyears, then weaned him, and he crawled and walked. One day,\nwhilst his mother was busied with the service of the kitchen, the\nchild went out and seeing the stairs, mounted to the guest-\nchamber,[FN#114] where the Amir Khalid was sitting. When the\nlatter saw him, he took him in his lap and glorified his Lord for\nthat which He had created and fashioned forth; then eyeing him\nstraitly, he saw that he was the likest of all creatures to\nAlaeddin Abou esh Shamat; and God informed his heart with love of\nthe boy. Presently, his mother Jessamine sought for him and\nfinding him not, mounted to the guest-chamber, where she saw the\nAmir seated, with the child playing in his lap. The latter,\nspying his mother, would have thrown himself upon her: but the\nAmir held him back and said to Jessamine, 'Come hither, O\ndamsel.' So she came to him, and he said to her, 'Whose son is\nthis?' Quoth she, 'He is my son and the darling of my heart.'\n'Who is his father?' asked the Amir; and she answered, 'His\nfather was Alaeddin Abou esh Shamat, but now he is become thy\nson.' Quoth Khalid, 'Alaeddin was a traitor.' 'God deliver him\nfrom treason!' replied she. 'God forbid that the Faithful should\nbe a traitor!' Then said he, 'When the boy grows up and says to\nthee, \"Who is my father?\" say thou to him, \"Thou art the son of\nthe Amir Khalid, Chief of the Police.\"' And she answered, 'I hear\nand obey.' Then he circumcised the boy and reared him after the\ngoodliest fashion, bringing him a tutor, who taught him to read\nand write; so he read (and commented) the Koran twice and learnt\nit by heart and grew up, calling the Amir father. Moreover, the\nlatter used to go down with him to the tilting-ground and\nassemble horsemen and teach the lad warlike exercises and the use\nof arms, so that, by the time he was fourteen years old, he\nbecame a valiant and accomplished cavalier and gained the rank of\nAmir.[FN#115]\n\nIt chanced one day that he fell in with Ahmed Kemakim and\nclapping up an acquaintance with him, accompanied him to the\ntavern, where Ahmed took out the lantern he had stolen from the\nKhalif and fell to plying the wine-cup by its light, till he\nbecame drunken. Presently Aslan said to him, 'O Captain, give me\nyonder lantern;' but he replied, 'I cannot give it thee.' 'Why\nnot?' asked Aslan. 'Because,' answered Ahmed, 'lives have been\nlost for it.' 'Whose life?' asked Aslan; and Ahmed said, 'There\ncame hither a man named Alaeddin Abou est Shamat, who was made\nCaptain of the Sixty and lost his life through this lantern.'\nQuoth Aslan, 'And how was that?' 'Know,' replied Ahmed Kemakim,\n'that thou hadst an elder brother by name Hebezlem Bezazeh, for\nwhom, when he became apt for marriage, thy father would have\nbought a slave-girl named Jessamine.' And he went on to tell him\nthe whole story of Hebezlem's illness and what befell Alaeddin,\nundeserved. When Aslan heard this, he said in himself, 'Most like\nthis slave-girl was my mother Jessamine and my father was no\nother than Alaeddin Abou esh Shamat.' So he went out from him,\nsorrowful, and met Ahmed ed Denef, who exclaimed at sight of him,\n'Glory be to Him to whom none is like!' 'At what dost thou\nmarvel, O my chief?' asked Hassan Shouman. 'At the make of yonder\nboy Aslan,' replied Ed Denef; 'for he is the likest of all\ncreatures to Alaeddin Abou esh Shamat.' Then he called Aslan and\nsaid to him, 'What is thy mother's name?' 'She is called the\ndamsel Jessamine,' answered Aslan; and Ed Denef said, 'Harkye,\nAslan, take heart and be of good cheer, for thy father was none\nother than Alaeddin Abou esh Shamat: but, O my son, go thou in to\nthy mother and question her of thy father.' 'I hear and obey,'\nanswered he, and going in to his mother, said to her, 'Who is my\nfather?' Quoth she, 'The Amir Khalid is thy father.' 'Not so,'\nrejoined he, 'my father was none other than Alaeddin Abou esh\nShamat.' At this, she wept and said, 'Who told thee this?' 'Ahmed\ned Denef, the Captain of the Guard,' answered he; so she told him\nthe whole story, saying, 'O my son, the truth can no longer be\nhidden: know that Alaeddin was indeed thy father, but it was the\nAmir Khalid who reared thee and adopted thee as his son. And now,\nO my son, when thou seest Ahmed ed Denef, so thou say to him, \"I\nconjure thee, by Allah, O my chief, avenge me on the murderer of\nmy father Alaeddin Abou esh Shamat!\"' So he went out from her and\nbetaking himself to Ahmed ed Denef, kissed his hand. Quoth Ed\nDenef, 'What ails thee, O Aslan?' And he answered, 'I know now\nfor certain that I am the son of Alaeddin Abou esh Shamat and I\nwould have thee avenge me of my father's murderer.' 'And who was\nthy father's murderer?' asked Ed Denef. 'Ahmed Kemakim the arch-\nthief,' replied Aslan. 'Who told thee this?' said Ed Denef, and\nAslan answered, 'I saw in his hand the lantern hung with jewels,\nthat was lost with the rest of the Khalif's gear, and asked him\nto give it me; but he refused, saying, \"Lives have been lost on\naccount of this,\" and told me how it was he who had broken into\nthe palace and stolen the goods and hidden them in my father's\nhouse.' Then said Ed Denef, 'When thou seest the Amir Khalid don\nhis harness of war, beg him to equip thee like himself and take\nthee with him. Then do thou some feat of prowess before the\nKhalif and he will say to thee, \"Ask a boon of me, O Aslan.\" And\ndo thou answer, \"I ask of thee that thou avenge me of my father's\nmurderer.\" If he say, \"Thy father is alive and is the Amir\nKhalid, the Chief of the Police,\" answer thou, \"My father was\nAlaeddin Abou esh Shamat, and the Amir Khalid is only my father\nby right of fosterage and adoption.\" Then tell him all that\npassed between thee and Ahmed Kemakim and say, \"O Commander of\nthe Faithful, order him to be searched and I will bring the\nlantern forth of his bosom.\"' 'I hear and obey,' answered Aslan\nand returning to the Amir Khalid, found him making ready to\nrepair to the Divan and said to him, 'I would fain have thee arm\nand harness me like thyself and carry me to the Divan.' So he\nequipped him and carried him to the Divan, with Ahmed Kemakim at\nhis stirrup. Then the Khalif sallied forth of Baghdad with his\nretinue and let pitch tents and pavilions without the city;\nwhereupon the troops divided into two parties and fell to playing\nat ball and striking it with the mall from one to the other. Now\nthere was among the troops a spy, who had been hired to kill the\nKhalif; so he took the ball and smiting it with the mall, drove\nit straight at the Khalif's face; but Aslan interposed and\ncatching it in mid-volley, drove it back at him who smote it, so\nthat it struck him between the shoulders and he fell to the\nground. The Khalif exclaimed, 'God bless thee, O Aslan!' and they\nall dismounted and sat on chairs. Then the Khalif bade bring the\nsmiter of the ball before him and said to him, 'Who moved thee to\ndo this thing and art thou friend or foe?' Quoth he, 'I am a foe\nand it was my purpose to kill thee.' 'And wherefore?' asked the\nKhalif. 'Art thou not an (orthodox) Muslim?' 'No,' replied the\nspy; 'I am a Shiyaite.' So the Khalif bade put him to death and\nsaid to Aslan, 'Ask a boon of me.' Quoth he, 'I ask of thee that\nthou avenge me of my father's murderer.' 'Thy father is alive,'\nanswered the Khalif; 'and there he stands.' 'And who is he?'\nasked Aslan. The Khalif replied, 'He is the Amir Khalid, Chief of\nthe Police.' 'O Commander of the Faithful,' rejoined Aslan, 'he\nis no father of mine, save by right of fosterage; my father was\nnone other than Alaeddin Abou esh Shamat.' 'Then thy father was a\ntraitor,' said the Khalif. 'God forbid, O Commander of the\nFaithful,' replied Aslan, 'that the Faithful should be a traitor!\nBut how did he wrong thee?' Quoth the Khalif, 'He stole my royal\nhabit and what was therewith.' 'O Commander of the Faithful,'\nrejoined Aslan, 'God forfend that my father should be a traitor!\nBut, O my lord, didst thou ever recover the lantern that was\nstolen from thee?' 'No,' answered the Khalif, 'we never got it\nback.' And Aslan said, 'I saw it in the hands of Ahmed Kemakim\nand begged it of him; but he refused to give it me, saying,\n\"Lives have been lost on account of this.\" Then he told me of the\nsickness of Hebezlem Bezazeh, son of the Amir Khalid, by reason\nof his passion for the damsel Jessamine, and how he himself was\nreleased from prison and that it was he who stole the lamp and\nrobe and so forth. Do thou then, O Commander of the Faithful,\navenge me of my father on him who murdered him.' So the Khalif\ncaused Ahmed Kemakim to be brought before him and sending for\nAhmed ed Denef, bade him search him; whereupon he put his hand\ninto the thief's bosom and pulled out the lamp. 'Harkye,\ntraitor,' said the Khalif, 'whence hadst thou this lantern?' And\nKemakim replied, 'I bought it, O Commander of the Faithful!'\n'Where didst thou buy it?' said the Khalif, 'and who could come\nby its like to sell it to thee?' Then they beat him, till he\nconfessed that he had stolen the lantern and the rest, and the\nKhalif said, 'O traitor, what moved thee to do this thing and\nruin Alaeddin Abou esh Shamat, the Trusty and Well-beloved?' Then\nhe bade lay hands on him and on the Chief of the Police, but the\nlatter said, 'O Commander of the Faithful, indeed I am unjustly\nentreated; thou badest me hang him, and I had no knowledge of\nthis plot, for the thing was contrived between Ahmed Kemakim and\nhis mother and my wife. I crave thine intercession, O Aslan.' So\nAslan interceded for him with the Khalif, who said, 'What hath\nGod done with this lad's mother?' 'She is with me,' answered\nKhalid, and the Khalif said, 'I command thee to bid thy wife\ndress her in her own clothes and ornaments and restore her to her\nformer rank; and do thou remove the seals from Alaeddin's house\nand give his son possession of his estate.' 'I hear and obey,'\nanswered Khalid, and going forth, carried the Khalif's order to\nhis wife, who clad Jessamine in her own apparel; whilst he\nhimself removed the seals from Alaeddin's house and gave Aslan\nthe keys. Then said the Khalif to Aslan, 'Ask a boon of me;' and\nhe replied, 'I beseech thee to unite me with my father.' Whereat\nthe Khalif wept and said, 'Most like it was thy father that was\nhanged and is dead; but by the life of my forefathers, whoso\nbringeth me the glad news that he is yet in the bonds of life, I\nwill give him all he seeketh!' Then came forward Ahmed ed Denef\nand kissing the earth before the Khalif, said, 'Grant me\nindemnity, O Commander of the Faithful!' 'Thou hast it,' answered\nthe Khalif; and Ed Denef said, 'I give thee the good news that\nAlaeddin is alive and well.' Quo the Khalif, 'What is this thou\nsayest?' 'As thy head liveth,' answered Ed Denef, 'I speak sooth;\nfor I ransomed him with another, of those who deserved death, and\ncarried him to Alexandria, where I set him up as a dealer in\nsecond-hand goods.' Then said Er Reshid, 'I charge thee fetch him\nto me;' and Ed Denef replied, 'I hear and obey;' whereupon the\nKhalif bade give him ten thousand dinars and he set out for\nAlexandria.\n\nMeanwhile Alaeddin sold all that was in his shop, till he had but\na few things let and amongst the rest a bag. So he shook the bag\nand there fell out a jewel, big enough to fill the palm of the\nhand, hanging to a chain of gold and having five faces, whereon\nwere names and talismanic characters, as they were ant-tracks.\n'God is All-knowing!' quoth he. 'Belike this is a talisman.' So\nhe rubbed each face; but nothing came of it and he said to\nhimself, 'Doubtless it is a piece of [naturally] variegated\nonyx,' and hung it up in the shop. Presently, a Frank passed\nalong the street and seeing the jewel hanging up, seated himself\nbefore the shop and said to Alaeddin, 'O my lord, is yonder jewel\nfor sale?' 'All I have is for sale,' answered Alaeddin; and the\nFrank said, 'Wilt thou sell it me for fourscore thousand dinars?'\n'May God open!'[FN#116] replied Alaeddin. 'Wilt thou sell it for\na hundred thousand dinars?' asked the Frank, and he answered, 'I\nsell it to thee for a hundred thousand dinars; pay me down the\nmoney.' Quoth the Frank, 'I cannot carry such a sum about me, for\nthere are thieves and sharpers in Alexandria; but come with me to\nmy ship and I will pay thee the money and give thee to boot a\nbale of Angora wool, a bale of satin, a bale of velvet and a\nbale of broadcloth.' So Alaeddin rose and giving the jewel to\nthe Frank, locked up his shop and committed the keys to his\nneighbour, saying, 'Keep these keys for me, whilst I go with this\nFrank to his ship and take the price of my jewel. If I be long\nabsent and there come to thee Captain Ahmed ed Denef,--he who set\nme up in this shop,--give him the keys and tell him where I am.'\nThen he went with the Frank to his ship, where the latter set him\na stool and making him sit down, said [to his men], 'Bring the\nmoney.' So [they brought it and] he paid him the price of the\njewel and gave him the four bales he had promised him; after\nwhich he said to him, 'O my lord, honour me by taking a morsel or\na draught of water.' And Alaeddin answered, 'If thou have any\nwater, give me to drink.' So the Frank called for drink, and they\nbrought sherbets, drugged with henbane, of which no sooner had\nAlaeddin drunk, than he fell over on his back; whereupon they\nweighed anchor and shoving off, shipped the poles and made sail.\nThe wind blew fair and they sailed till they lost sight of land,\nwhen the Frank bade bring Alaeddin up out of the hold and made\nhim smell to the counter-drug, whereupon he opened his eyes and\nsaid, 'Where am I?' 'Thou art bound and in my power,' answered\nthe Frank; 'and if thou hadst refused to take a hundred thousand\ndinars for the jewel, I would have bidden thee more.' 'What art\nthou?' asked Alaeddin, and the other replied, 'I am a sea-\ncaptain and mean to carry thee to my mistress.' As they were\ntalking, a ship hove in sight, with forty Muslim merchants on\nboard; so the Frank captain gave chase and coming up with the\nvessel, made fast to it with grappling-irons. Then he boarded it\nwith his men and took it and plundered it; after which he sailed\non with his prize, till he reached the city of Genoa, where he\nrepaired to the gate of a palace, that gave upon the sea, and\nthere came forth to him a veiled damsel, who said, 'Hast thou\nbrought the jewel and its owner?' 'I have brought them both,'\nanswered he; and she said, 'Then give me the jewel.' So he gave\nit to her and returning to the port, fired guns to announce his\nsafe return; whereupon the King of the city, being notified of\nhis arrival, came down to receive him and said to him, 'What\nmanner of voyage hast thou had?' 'A right prosperous one,'\nanswered the captain, 'and I have made prize of a ship with one-\nand-forty Muslim merchants.' Being them ashore,' said the King.\nSo he landed the merchants in irons, and Alaeddin among the rest;\nand the King and the captain mounted and made the captives walk\nbefore them, till they reached the palace, where the King sat\ndown in the audience-chamber and making the prisoners pass before\nhim, one by one, said to the first, 'O Muslim, whence comest\nthou?' 'From Alexandria,' answered he; whereupon the King said,\n'O headsman, put him to death.' So the headsman smote him with\nthe sword and cut off his head: and thus it fared with the second\nand the third, till forty were dead and there remained but\nAlaeddin, who drank the cup of his comrades' anguish and said to\nhimself, 'God have mercy on thee, O Alaeddin! Thou art a dead\nman.' Then said the King to him, 'And thou, what countryman art\nthou?' 'I am of Alexandria,' answered Alaeddin, and the King\nsaid, 'O headsman, strike off his head.' So the headsman raised\nhis arm and was about to strike, when an old woman of venerable\naspect presented herself before the King, who rose to do her\nhonour, and said to him, 'O King, did I not bid thee remember,\nwhen the captain came back with captives, to keep one or two for\nthe convent, to serve in the church?' 'O my mother, answered the\nKing, 'would thou hadst come a while earlier! But take this one\nthat is left.' So she turned to Alaeddin and said to him, 'Wilt\nthou serve in the church, or shall I let the King kill thee?'\nQuoth he, 'I will serve in the church.' So she took him and\ncarried him forth of the palace to the church, where he said to\nher, 'What service must I do?' And she answered, 'Thou must arise\nin the morning and take five mules and go with them into the\nforest and there cut dry firewood and split it and bring it to\nthe convent-kitchen. Then must thou take up the carpets and sweep\nand wipe the stone and marble pavements and lay the carpets down\nagain, as they were; after which thou must take two bushels and a\nhalf of wheat and sift it and grind it and knead it and make it\ninto cracknels for the convent; and thou must take also a bushel\nof lentils and sift and crush and cook them. Then must thou fetch\nwater in barrels and fill the four fountains; after which thou\nmust take three hundred and threescore and six wooden platters\nand crumble the cracknels therein and pour of the lentil pottage\nover each and carry every monk and patriarch his platter.' 'Take\nme back to the King and let him kill me,' said Alaeddin; 'it were\neasier to me than this service.' 'If thou do the service that is\ndue from thee,' replied the old woman, 'thou shalt escape death;\nbut, if thou do it not, I will let the King kill thee.' Then she\nwent away, leaving Alaeddin heavy at heart. Now there were in the\nchurch ten blind cripples, and one of them said to him, 'Bring me\na pot.' So he brought it him and he did his occasion therein and\nsaid, 'Throw away the ordure.' He did do, and the blind man said,\n'The Messiah's blessing be upon thee, O servant of the church!'\nPresently, the old woman came in and said to him, 'Why hast thou\nnot done thy service?' 'How many hands have I,' answered he,\n'that I should suffice for all this work?' 'Thou fool!' rejoined\nshe.' 'I brought thee not hither but to work. But,' added she,\ngiving him a wand of brass with a cross at the top, 'take this\nrod and go forth into the highway, and whomsoever thou meetest,\nwere he governor of the ciy, say to him, \"I summon thee to the\nservice of the church, in the name of the Messiah.\" And he will\nnot refuse thee. Then make him sift the wheat and grind it and\nbolt it and knead it and bake it into cracknels; and if any\ngainsay thee, beat him and fear none.' 'I hear and obey,'\nanswered he and did as she said, pressing great and small into\nhis service; nor did he leave to do thus for the space of\nseventeen years, till, one day, the old woman came to him, as he\nsat in the church, and said to him, 'Go forth of the convent.'\n'Whither shall I go?' asked he, and she said, 'Thou canst pass\nthe night in a tavern or with one of thy friends.' Quoth he, 'Why\ndost thou send me forth of the church?' and she replied, 'The\nprincess Husn Meryem, daughter of Youhenna, King of the city,\npurposes this night to pay a visit to the church, and it befits\nnot that any abide in her way.' So he rose and made a show of\nobeying her and of leaving the church; but he said in himself, 'I\nwonder whether the princess is like our women or fairer than\nthey! Algates, I will not go till I have had a sight of her.' So\nhe hid himself in a closet[FN#117] with a window looking into the\nchurch, and as he watched, in came the King's daughter. He cast\none glance at her, that cost him a thousand sighs, for she was\nlike the full moon, when it emerges from the clouds; and with her\nwas a damsel, to whom he heard her say, 'O Zubeideh, thy company\nis grateful to me.' So he looked straitly at the damsel and found\nher to be none other than his wife, Zubeideh the Lutanist, whom\nhe thought dead. Then the princess said to Zubeideh, 'Play us an\nair on the lute.' But she answered, 'I will make no music for\nthee, till thou grant my wish and fulfil thy promise to me.' 'And\nwhat did I promise thee?' asked the princess. 'That thou wouldst\nreunite me with my husband Alaeddin Abou esh Shamat,' said\nZubeideh. 'O Zubeideh,' rejoined the princess, 'be of good cheer\nand play us an air, as a thank-offering for reunion with thy\nhusband.' 'Where is he?' asked Zubeideh, and Meryem replied, 'He\nis in yonder closet, listening to us.' So Zubeideh played a\nmeasure on the lute, that would have made a rock dance; which\nwhen Alaeddin heard, his entrails were troubled and he came forth\nand throwing himself upon his wife, strained her to his bosom.\nShe also knew him and they embraced and fell down in a swoon.\nThen came the princess and sprinkled rose-water on them, till\nthey revived, when she said to them, 'God hath reunited you.' 'By\nthy kind offices, O my lady,' replied Alaeddin and turning to his\nwife, said to her, 'O Zubeideh, thou didst surely die and we\nburied thee: how then camest thou to life and to this place?' 'O\nmy lord,' answered she, 'I did not die; but a Marid of the Jinn\nsnatched me up and flew with me hither. She whom thou buriedst\nwas a Jinniyeh, who took my shape and feigned herself dead, but\npresently broke open the tomb and returned to the service of this\nher mistress, the princess Husn Meryem. As for me, I was in a\ntrance, and when I opened my eyes, I found myself with the\nprincess; so I said to her, \"Why hast thou bought me hither?\" \"O\nZubeideh,\" answered she, \"know that I am predestined to marry thy\nhusband Alaeddin Abou esh Shamat: wilt thou then accept of me to\nfellow-wife, a night for me and a night for thee?\" \"I hear and\nobey, O my lady,\" rejoined I; \"but where is my husband?\" Quoth\nshe, \"Upon his forehead is written what God hath decreed to him;\nas soon as what is there written is fulfilled to him he must\nneeds come hither, and we will beguile the time of our separation\nfrom him with songs and smiting upon instruments of music, till\nit please God to unite us with him.\" So I abode with her till God\nbrought us together in this church.' Then the princess turned to\nhim and said, 'O my lord Alaeddin, wilt thou accept of me to\nwife?' 'O my lady,' replied he, 'I am a Muslim and thou art a\nNazarene; so how can I marry thee?' 'God forbid,' rejoined she,\n'that I should be an infidel! Nay, I am a Muslim; these eighteen\nyears have I held fast the Faith of Submission and I am pure of\nany faith other than that of Islam.' Then said he, 'O my lady, I\nwould fain return to my native land.' And she answered, 'Know\nthat I see written on thy forehead things that thou must needs\nfulfil and thou shalt come to thy desire. Moreover, I give thee\nthe glad tidings, O Alaeddin, that there hath been born to thee a\nson named Aslan, who is now eighteen years old and sitteth in thy\nplace with the Khalif. Know also that God hath shown forth the\ntruth and done away the false by withdrawing the curtain of\nsecrecy from him who stole the Khalif's goods, that is, Ahmed\nKemakim the arch-thief and traitor; and he now lies bound and in\nprison. It was I who caused the jewel to be put in the bag where\nthou foundest it and who sent the captain to thee; for thou must\nknow that he is enamoured of me and seeketh my favours, but I\nrefused to yield to his wishes, till he should being me the jewel\nand its owner. So I gave him a hundred purses[FN#118] and\ndespatched him to thee, in the habit of a merchant; and it was I\nalso who sent the old woman to save thee from being put to death\nwith the other captives.' 'May God requite thee for us with all\ngood!' said he. 'Indeed, thou hast done well.' Then she renewed\nher profession of the Mohammedan faith at his hands, and when he\nwas assured of the truth of her speech, he said to her, 'O my\nlady, tell me what are the virtues of the jewel and whence cometh\nit?' 'It came from an enchanted treasure,' answered she, 'and has\nfive virtues, that will profit us in time of need. The princess\nmy grandmother, my father's mother, was an enchantress and\nskilled in solving mysteries and winning at hidden treasures, and\nfrom one of the latter came the jewel into her hands. When I grew\nup and reached the age of fourteen, I read the Evangel and other\nbooks and found the name of Mohammed (whom God bless and\npreserve) in four books, the Evangel, the Pentateuch, the\nPsalms[FN#119] and the Koran; so I believed in Mohammed and\nbecame a Muslim, being assured that none is worship-worth save\nGod the Most High and that to the Lord of all creatures no faith\nis acceptable save that of Submission. When my grandmother fell\nsick, she gave me the jewel and taught me its virtues. Moreover,\nbefore she died, my father said to her, 'Draw me a geomantic\nfigure and see the issue of my affair and what will befall me.'\nAnd she foretold him that he should die by the hand of a captive\nfrom Alexandria. So he swore to kill every captive from that\nplace and told the captain of this, saying, \"Do thou fall on the\nships of the Muslims and seize them and whomsoever thou findest\nof Alexandria, kill him or bring him to me.\" The captain did his\nbidding and he slew as many in number as the hairs of his head.\nThen my grandmother died and I took a geomantic tablet, being\nminded to now who I should marry, and drawing a figure, found\nthat none should be my husband save one called Alaeddin Abou esh\nShamat, the Trusty and Well-beloved. At this I marvelled and\nwaited till the times were accomplished and I foregathered with\nthee.' So Alaeddin took her to wife and said to her, 'I desire to\nreturn to my own country.' 'If it be so,' replied she, 'come with\nme.' Then she carried him into the palace and hiding him in a\ncloset there, went in to her father, who said to her, 'O my\ndaughter, my heart is exceeding heavy to-day; let us sit down and\nmake merry with wine, thou and I.' So he called for a table of\nwine, and she sat down with him and plied him with wine, till he\nlost his wits, when she drugged a cup with henbane, and he drank\nit off and fell backward. Then she brought Alaeddin out of the\ncloset and said to him, 'Come; thine enemy is laid prostrate, for\nI made him drunk and drugged him; so do thou with him as thou\nwilt.' Accordingly Alaeddin went to the King and finding him\nlying drugged and helpless, bound him fast, hand and foot. Then\nhe gave him the counter-drug and he came to himself and finding\nhis daughter and Alaeddin sitting on his breast, said to her, 'O\nmy daughter, dost thou deal thus with me?' 'If I be indeed thy\ndaughter,' answered she, 'become a Muslim, even as I have done;\nfor the truth was shown to me, and I embraced it, and the false,\nand I renounced it. I have submitted myself unto God, the Lord of\nall creatures, and am pure of all faiths contrary to that of\nIslam in this world and the next. Wherefore, if thou wilt become\na Muslim, well and good; if not, thy death were better than thy\nlife.' Alaeddin also exhorted him to embrace the true faith; but\nhe refused and was obstinate: so Alaeddin took a dagger and cut\nhis throat from ear to ear. Then he wrote a scroll, setting forth\nwhat had happened and laid it on the dead man's forehead, after\nwhich they took what was light of weight and heavy of worth and\nreturned to the church. Here the princess took out the jewel and\nrubbed the face whereon was figured a couch, whereupon a couch\nappeared before her and she mounted upon it with Alaeddin and\nZubeideh, saying, 'O couch, I conjure thee by the virtue of the\nnames and talismans and characters of art engraven on this jewel,\nrise up with us!' And it rose with them into the air and flew,\ntill I came to a desert valley, when the princess turned the face\non which the couch was figured towards the earth, and it sank\nwith them to the ground. Then she turned up the face whereon was\nfigured a pavilion and tapping it, said, 'Let a pavilion be\npitched in this valley.' And immediately there appeared a\npavilion, in which they seated themselves. Now this valley was a\ndesert waste, without grass or water; so she turned a third face\nof the jewel towards the sky and said, 'By the virtue of the\nnames of God, let trees spring up here and a river run beside\nthem!' And immediately trees sprang up and a river ran rippling\nand splashing beside them. They made their ablutions and prayed\nand drank of the stream; after which the princess turned up a\nfourth face of the jewel, on which was figured a table of food,\nand said, 'By the virtue of the names of God, let the table be\nspread!' And immediately there appeared before them a table,\nspread with all manner rich meats, and they ate and drank and\nmade merry.\n\nMeanwhile, the King's son went in to waken his father, but found\nhim slain and seeing the scroll, took it and read. Then he sought\nhis sister and finding her not, betook himself to the old woman\nin the church, of whom he enquired of her, but she said, 'I have\nnot seen her since yesterday.' So he returned to the troops and\ncried out, saying, 'To horse, cavaliers!' Then he told them what\nhad happened, and they mounted and rode after the fugitives, till\nthey drew near the pavilion. Presently, Husn Meryem looked up and\nsaw a cloud of dust, which spread till it covered the prospect,\nthen lifted and discovered her brother and his troops, crying\naloud and saying, 'Whither will ye fly, and we on your track!'\nThen said she to Alaeddin, 'Art thou steadfast in battle?' 'Even\nas the stake in bran,' answered he; 'I know not war nor battle,\nneither swords nor spears.' So she pulled out the jewel and\nrubbed the fifth face, that on which were depictured a horse and\nhis rider, and straightway a horseman appear out of the desert\nand driving at the pursuing host, ceased not to do battle with\nthem and smite them with the sword, till he routed them and put\nthem to flight. Then said the princess to Alaeddin, 'Wilt thou go\nto Cairo or to Alexandria?' And he answered, 'To Alexandria.'\nSo they mounted the couch and she pronounced over it the\nconjuration, whereupon it set off with them and brought them to\nAlexandria in the twinkling of an eye. They alighted without the\ncity and Alaeddin hid the women in a cavern, whilst he went into\nAlexandria and fetched them veils and outer clothing, wherewith\nhe covered them. Then he carried them to his ship and leaving\nthem in the room behind it, went forth to fetch them the morning\nmeal, when he met Ahmed ed Denef coming from Baghdad. He saw him\nin the street and received him with open arms, embracing him and\nwelcoming him. Ed Denef gave him the good news of his son Aslan\nand how he was now come to the age of twenty; and Alaeddin, in\nhis turn, told the captain of the guard all that had befallen\nhim, whereat he marvelled exceedingly. Then he brought him to his\nlodging, where they passed the night; and next day he sold his\nshop and laid its price with his other monies. Now Ed Denef had\ntold him that the Khalif sought him; but he said, 'I am bound\nfirst for Cairo, to salute my father and mother and the people of\nmy house.' So they all mounted the couch and it carried them to\nCairo the Happy, where they alighted in the street called Yellow,\nwhere stood Shemseddin's house. Alaeddin knocked at the door, and\nhis mother said, 'Who is at the door, now that we have lost our\nbeloved?' 'It is I, Alaeddin,' replied he; whereupon they came\ndown and embraced him. Then he sent his wives and baggage into\nthe house and entering himself with Ahmed ed Denef, rested there\nthree days, after which he was minded to set out for Baghdad and\nhis father said, 'O my son, abide with me.' But he answered, 'I\ncannot brook to be parted from my son Aslan.' So he took his\nfather and mother and set out for Baghdad. When they came\nthither, Ahmed ed Denef went in to the Khalif and gave him the\nglad tidings of Alaeddin's arrival and told him his story;\nwhereupon the Prince went forth to meet him, accompanied by his\nson Aslan, and they met and embraced each other. Then the Khalif\nsent for Ahmed Kemakim and said to Alaeddin, 'Up and avenge thee\nof thine enemy!' So he drew his sword and smote off Ahmed's head.\nThen the Khalif held festival for Alaeddin and summoning the\nCadis and the witnesses, married him to the princess Husn Meryem;\nand he went in to her and found her an unpierced pearl. Moreover,\nthe Khalif made Aslan Chief of the Sixty and bestowed upon him\nand his father sumptuous dresses of honour; and they abode in the\nenjoyment of all the comforts and pleasures of life, till there\ncame to them the Destroyer of Delights and the Sunderer of\nCompanies.\n\n\n\n\n           HATIM ET TA\u00cf: HIS GENEROSITY AFTER DEATH.\n\n\n\nIt is told of Hatim et Ta\u00ef[FN#120], that when he died, they\nburied him on the top of a mountain and set over his grave two\nboughs hewn out of two rocks and stone figures of women with\ndishevelled hair. At the foot of the hill was a stream of running\nwater, and when wayfarers camped there, they heard loud crying in\nthe night, from dark till daybreak; but when they arose in the\nmorning, they found nothing but the girls carved in stone. Now\nwhen Dhoulkeraa, King of Himyer, going forth of his tribe, came\nto the valley, he halted to pass the night there and drawing near\nthe mountain, heard the crying and said, 'What lamenting is that\non yonder hill?' They answered him, saying, 'This is the tomb of\nHatim et Ta\u00ef, over which are two troughs of stone and stone\nfigures of girls with dishevelled hair; and all who camp in this\nplace by night hear this crying and lamenting.' So he said\njestingly, 'O Hatim et Ta\u00ef, we are thy guests this night, and we\nare lank with hunger.' Then sleep overcame him, but presently he\nawoke in affright and cried out, saying, 'Help, O Arabs! Look at\nmy beast!' So they came to him and finding his she-camel\nstruggling in the death-agony, slaughtered it and roasted its\nflesh and ate. Then they asked him what had happened and he said,\n'When I closed my eyes, I saw in my sleep Hatim et Ta\u00ef, who came\nto me with a sword in his hand and said to me, \"Thou comest to us\nand we have nothing by us.\" Then he smote my she-camel with his\nsword, and she would have died, though ye had not come to her and\ncut her throat.' Next morning the prince mounted the beast of one\nof his companions and taking the latter up behind him, set out\nand fared on till midday, when they saw a man coming towards\nthem, mounted on a camel and leading another, and said to him,\n'Who art thou?' 'I am Adi, son of Hatim et Ta\u00ef,' answered he.\n'Where is Dhoulkeraa, prince of Himyer?' 'This is he,' replied\nthey, and he said to the prince, 'Take this camel in place of\nthine own, which my father slaughtered for thee.' 'Who told thee\nof this?' asked Dhoulkeraa, and Adi answered, 'My father appeared\nto me in a dream last night and said to me, \"Harkye, Adi;\nDhoulkeraa, King of Himyer, sought hospitality of me and I,\nhaving nought to give him, slaughtered him his she-camel, that he\nmight eat: so do thou carry him a she-camel to ride, for I have\nnothing.\"' And Dhoulkeraa took her, marvelling at the generosity\nof Hatim et Ta\u00ef, alive and dead.\n\n\n\n\n              MAAN BEN ZA\u00cfDEH AND THE THREE GIRLS.\n\n\n\nIt is told of Maan ben Za\u00efdeh[FN#121] that, being out one day\na-hunting, he became athirst and would have drunk, but his men\nhad no water with them. Presently, he met three damsels, bearing\nthree skins of water; so he begged drink of them, and they gave\nhim to drink. Then he sought of his men somewhat to give the\ndamsels; but they had no money; so he gave each girl ten\ngolden-headed arrows from his quiver. Whereupon quoth one of them\nto her mates, 'Harkye! These fashions pertain to none but Maan\nben Za\u00efdeh; so let each of us recite somewhat of verse in his\npraise.' Then said the first:\n\n\nHe heads his shafts with gold and shooting at his foes, Dispenses\n     thus largesse and bounties far and wide,\nGiving the wounded man wherewith to get him cure And\n     grave-clothes unto him must in the tombs abide.\n\nAnd the second:\n\nA warrior, for the great excess of his magnificence, both friends\n     and foes enjoy the goods his liberal hands dispense.\nHis arrowheads are forged of gold, that so his very wars May not\n     estop his generous soul from its munificence.\n\nAnd the third:\n\nWith arrows he shoots at his foes, of his generosity, Whose heads\n     are fashioned and forged of virgin gold, in steel's room;\nThat those whom he wounds may spend the price of the gold for\n     their cure And those that are slain of his shafts may buy\n     them the wede of the tomb.\n\n\n\n\n                MAAN BEN ZA\u00cfDEH AND THE BEDOUIN.\n\n\n\nIt is told also of Maan ben Za\u00efdeh that he went forth one day to\nthe chase with his company, and they came upon a herd of\ngazelles. So they separated in pursuit of them and Maan was left\nalone in chase of one of the gazelles. When he had made prize of\nit, he alighted and slaughtered it; and as he was thus engaged,\nhe espied a man coming towards him on an ass. So he remounted and\nriding up to the new-comer, saluted him and asked him whence he\ncame. Quoth he, 'I come from the land of Cuza\u00e4h, where we have\nhad a two years' dearth; but this year it was a season of plenty\nand I sowed cucumbers. They came up before their time, so I\ngathered the best of them and set out to carry them to the Amir\nMaan ben Za\u00efdeh, because of his well-known generosity and\nnotorious munificence.' 'How much cost thou hope to get of him?'\nasked Maan, and the Bedouin answered, 'A thousand diners.' 'What\nif he say, \"This is too much\"?' quoth Maan. 'Then I will ask five\nhundred diners,' said the Bedouin. 'And if he say, \"Too much\"?'\nsaid Maan. 'Then three hundred,' replied the other. 'And if he\nsay yet, \"Too much\"?' 'Then two hundred.' 'And yet, \"Too much\"?'\n'Then one hundred.' 'And yet, \"Too much\"?' 'Then fifty.' 'And\nyet, \"Too much\"?' 'Then thirty.' 'And if he still say, \"Too\nmuch\"?' said Maan ben Za\u00efdeh. 'Then,' answered the Bedouin, 'I\nwill make my ass set his feet in his sanctuary[FN#122] and return\nto my people, disappointed and empty-handed.' Maan laughed at him\nand spurring his horse, rode on till he came up with his suite\nand returned home, when he said to his chamberlain, 'If there\ncome a man with cucumbers, riding on an ass, admit him.'\nPresently up came the Bedouin and was admitted to Maan's\npresence, but knew him not for the man he had met in the desert,\nby reason of the gravity and majesty of his aspect and the\nmultitude of his servants and attendants, for he was seated on\nhis chair of estate, with his officers about him. So he saluted\nhim and Maan said to him, 'O brother of the Arabs, what brings\nthee?' 'I hoped in the Amir,' answered the Bedouin, 'and have\nbrought him cucumbers out of season.' 'And how much cost thou\nexpect of us?' asked Maan. 'A thousand diners,' answered the\nBedouin. 'Too much,' said Maan. Quoth the Bedouin, 'Five\nhundred;' but Maan repeated, 'Too much.' 'Then three hundred,'\nsaid the Bedouin. 'Too much,' said Maan. 'Two hundred.' 'Too\nmuch' 'One hundred.' 'Too much' 'Fifty.' 'Too much.' At last the\nBedouin came down to thirty diners; but Maan still replied, 'Too\nmuch.' 'By Allah,' cried the Bedouin, 'the man I met in the\ndesert brought me ill luck! But I will not go lower than thirty\ndiners.' The Amir laughed and said nothing; whereupon the Bedouin\nknew that it was he whom he had met and said, 'O my lord, except\nthou bring the thirty diners, there is the ass tied ready at the\ndoor and here sits Maan.' At this, Maan laughed, till he fell\nbackward, and calling his steward, said to him, 'Give him a\nthousand diners and five hundred and three hundred and two\nhundred and one hundred and fifty and thirty and leave the ass\nwhere he is.' So the Bedouin, to his amazement, received two\nthousand and nine score diners, and may God have mercy on them\nboth!\n\n\n\n\n                      THE CITY OF LEBTAIT.\n\n\n\nThere was once a city in the land of the Franks, called the City\nof Lebtait.[FN#123] It was a royal city and in it stood a tower\nwhich was always shut. Whenever a King died and another King of\nthe Franks took the Kingship after him, he set a new and strong\nlock on the tower, till there were four-and-twenty locks upon\nthe gate. After this time, there came to the throne a man who was\nnot of the old royal house, and he had a mind to open the locks,\nthat he might see what was within the tower. The grandees of his\nkingdom forbade him from this and were instant with him to\ndesist, offering him all that their hands possessed of riches and\nthings of price, if he would but forego his desire; but he would\nnot be baulked and said, 'Needs must I open this tower.' So he\ndid off the locks and entering, found within figures of Arabs on\ntheir horses and camels, covered with turbans with hanging ends,\ngirt with swords and bearing long lances in their hands. He found\nthere also a scroll, with these words written therein: 'Whenas\nthis door is opened, a people of the Arabs, after the likeness of\nthe figures here depictured, will conquer this country; wherefore\nbeware, beware of opening it.' Now this city was in Spain, and\nthat very year Tarik ibn Ziyad conquered it, in the Khalifate of\nWelid ben Abdulmelik[FN#124] of the sons of Umeyyeh, slaying this\nKing after the sorriest fashion and sacking the city and making\nprisoners of the women and boys therein. Moreover, he found there\nimmense treasures; amongst the rest more than a hundred and\nseventy crowns of pearls and rubies and other gems, and a saloon,\nin which horsemen might tilt with spears, full of vessels of gold\nand silver, such as no description can comprise. Moreover, he\nfound there also the table of food of the prophet of God, Solomon\nson of David (on whom be peace), which is extant even now in a\ncity of the Greeks; it is told that it was of green emerald, with\nvessels of gold and platters of chrysolite; likewise, the Psalms\nwritten in the [ancient] Greek character, on leaves of gold set\nwith jewels, together with a book setting forth the properties of\nstones and herbs and minerals, as well as the use of charms and\ntalismans and the canons of the art of alchemy, and another\nthat treated of the art of cutting and setting rubies and\nother [precious] stones and of the preparation of poisons\nand antidotes. There found he also a representation of the\nconfiguration of the earth and the seas and the different towns\nand countries and villages of the world and a great hall full of\nhermetic powder, one drachm of which would turn a thousand\ndrachms of silver into fine gold; likewise a marvellous great\nround mirror of mixed metals, made for Solomon son of David (on\nwhom be peace), wherein whoso looked might see the very image and\npresentment of the seven divisions of the world, and a chamber\nfull of carbuncles, such as no words can suffice to set forth,\nmany camel-loads. So he despatched all these things to Welid ben\nAbdulmelik, and the Arabs spread all over the cities of Spain,\nwhich is one of the finest of lands. This is the end of the story\nof the City of Lebtait.\n\n\n\n\n             THE KHALIF HISHAM AND THE ARAB YOUTH.\n\n\n\nThe Khalif Hisham ben Abdulmelik ben Merwan was hunting one day,\nwhen he sighted an antelope and pursued it with his dogs. As he\nwas following the chase, he saw an Arab youth pasturing sheep and\nsaid to him, 'Ho, boy, up and stop yonder antelope, for it\nescapeth me!' The youth raised his head and replied, 'O ignorant\nof the worth of the worthy,[FN#125] thou lookest on me with\ndisdain and speakest to me with contempt; thy speech is that of a\ntyrant and thy conduct that of an ass.' 'Out on thee,' cried\nHisham. 'Dost thou not know me?' 'Verily,' rejoined the youth,\n'thine unmannerliness hath made thee known to me, in that thou\nspokest to me, without beginning by the salutation.\"[FN#126] 'Out\non thee!' repeated the Khalif. 'I am Hisham ben Abdulmelik.' 'May\nGod not favour thy dwellings,' replied the Arab, 'nor guard\nthine abiding-place! How many are thy words and how few thy\ngenerosities!' Hardly had he spoken, when up came the troops from\nall sides and surrounded him, saying, 'Peace be on thee, O\nCommander of the Faithful!' Quoth Hisham, 'Leave this talk and\nseize me yonder boy.' So they laid hands on him; and when he saw\nthe multitude of chamberlains and viziers and officers of state,\nhe was in nowise concerned and questioned not of them, but let\nhis chin fall on his breast and looked where his feet fell, till\nthey brought him to the Khalif,[FN#127] when he stood before him,\nwith head bowed down, and saluted him not neither spoke. So one\nof the attendants said to him, 'O dog of the Arabs, what ails\nthee that thou salutest not the Commander of the Faithful?' The\nyouth turned to him angrily and replied, 'O packsaddle of an ass,\nthe length of the way it was that hindered me from this and the\nsteepness of the steps and sweat.' Then said Hisham (and indeed\nhe was exceeding wroth), 'O boy, thou art come to thy last hour;\nthy hope is gone from thee and thy life is past.' 'By Allah, O\nHisham,' answered the Arab, 'if the time[FN#128] be prolonged and\nits cutting short be not ordained of destiny, thy words irk me\nnot, be they much or little.' Then said the (chief) chamberlain\nto him, 'O vilest of the Arabs, what art thou to bandy words with\nthe Commander of the Faithful?' He answered promptly, 'Mayest\nthou meet with adversity and may woe and mourning never depart\nfrom thee! Hast thou not heard the saying of God the Most\nHigh? \"One day, every soul shall come to give an account of\nitself.\"'[FN#129] \"At this, Hisham rose, in great wrath, and\nsaid, 'O headsman, bring me his head; for indeed he multiplies\ntalk, such as passes conception, and fears not reproach.' So the\nheadsman took him and making him kneel on the carpet of blood,\ndrew his sword and said to the Khalif, 'O Commander of the\nFaithful, shall I smite off the head of this thy misguided slave,\nwho is on the way to his grave, and be quit of his blood?' 'Yes,'\nreplied Hisham. He repeated his question and the Khalif again\nreplied in the affirmative. Then he asked leave a third time, and\nthe youth, knowing that, if the Khalif assented yet once more, it\nwould be the signal of his death, laughed till his wang-teeth\nappeared; at which Hisham's wrath redoubled and he said to him,\n'O boy, meseems thou art mad; seest thou not that thou art about\nto depart the world? Why then dost thou laugh in mockery of\nthyself?' 'O Commander of the Faithful,' answered the young Arab,\n'if my life is to be prolonged, none can hurt me, great or small;\nbut I have bethought me of some verses, which do thou hear, for\nmy death cannot escape thee.' 'Say on and be brief,' replied\nHisham; so the Arab repeated the following verses: A hawk once\nseized a sparrow, so have I heard men say, A sparrow of the\ndesert, that fate to him did throw; And as the hawk was flying to\nnestward with his prize, The sparrow in his clutches did thus\nbespeak his foe: \"There's nought in me the stomach of such as\nthou to stay; Indeed, I'm all too paltry to fill thy maw, I\ntrow.\" The hawk was pleased and flattered with pride and self\nconceit;   He smiled for self-contentment and let the sparrow go.\nAt this Hisham smiled and said, 'By my kinship to the Prophet\n(whom God bless and preserve), had he spoken thus at first, I had\ngiven him all he asked, except the Khalifate!' Then he bade his\nservants stuff his mouth with jewels and entreat him courteously;\nso they did as he bade them and the Arab went his way.\n\n\n\n\n                  IBRAHIM BEN EL MEHDI AND THE\n                        BARBER-SURGEON.\n\n\n\nWhen the Khalifate fell to El Mamoun the son of Haroun er Reshid,\nthe latter's brother Ibrahim, son of El Mehdi, refused to\nacknowledge his nephew and betook himself to Er Rei,[FN#130]\nwhere he proclaimed himself Khalif and abode thus a year and\neleven months and twelve days.  Meanwhile Mamoun remained\nawaiting his return to allegiance, till, at last, despairing of\nthis, he mounted with his horsemen and footmen and repaired to Er\nRei in quest of him.  When the news came to Ibrahim, he found\nnothing for it but to flee to Baghdad and hide there, fearing for\nhis life; and Mamoun set a price of a hundred thousand dinars\nupon his head.\n\n(Quoth Ibrahim) 'Now when I heard of this price being set upon my\nhead, I feared for myself and knew not what to do: so I disguised\nmyself and went forth of my house at midday, knowing not whither\nI should go.  Presently, I entered a street that had no issue and\nsaid in myself, \"Verily, we are God's and to Him we return!  I\nhave exposed myself to destruction.  If I retrace my steps, I\nshall arouse suspicion.\"  Then I espied, at the upper end of the\nstreet, a negro standing at his door; so I went up to him and\nsaid to him, \"Hast thou a place where I may abide awhile of the\nday?\"  \"Yes,\" answered he, and opening the door, admitted me into\na decent house, furnished with carpets and mats and cushions of\nleather.  Then he shut the door on me and went away; and I\nmisdoubted me he had heard of the reward offered for me and said\nin myself, \"He has gone to inform against me.\"  But, as I sat\npondering my case and boiling like the pot over the fire, my host\ncame back, followed by a porter loaded with meat and bread and\nnew cooking-pots and goblets and a new jar and other needful\ngear.  He took them from the porter and dismissing him, said to\nme, \"I make myself thy ransom!  I am a barber-surgeon, and I know\nit would mislike thee to eat with me, because of the way in which\nI get my living; so do thou shift for thyself with these things\nwhereon no hand hath fallen.\"  Now I was anhungred; so I cooked\nme a pot of meat, whose like I mind me not ever to have eaten;\nand when I had done my desire, he  said to me, \"O my lord, God\nmake me thy ransom!  Art thou for wine?  Indeed, it gladdens the\nsoul and does away care.\"  \"I have no objection,\" replied I,\nbeing desirous of his company; so he brought me new flagons of\nglass, that no hand had touched, and a jar of excellent wine,\nand said to me, \"Mix for thyself, to thy liking.\"  So I cleared\nthe wine and mixed myself a most pleasant draught.  Then he\nbrought me a new cup and fruits and flowers in new vessels of\nearthenware; after which he said to me, \"Wilt thou give me leave\nto sit apart and drink of wine of my own by myself, of my joy in\nthee and for thee?\"  \"Do so.\"  answered I.  So we drank, he and\nI, till the wine began to take effect upon us, when he rose and\ngoing to a closet, took out a lute of polished wood and said to\nme, \"O my lord, it is not for the like of me to ask thee to sing,\nbut it behoves thine exceeding generosity to render my respect\nits due; so, an thou see fit to honour thy slave, thine is the\naugust decision.\"  Quoth I (and indeed I thought not that he knew\nme), \"How knowest thou that I excel in song?\"  \"Glory be to God!\"\nanswered he.  \"Our lord is too well renowned for that![FN#131]\nThou art my lord Ibrahim, son of El Mehdi, our Khalif of\nyesterday, he on whose head Mamoun hath set a price of a hundred\nthousand dinars: but thou art in safety with me.\"  When I heard\nhim say this, he was magnified in my eyes and his loyalty was\ncertified to me; so I complied with his wish and took the lute\nand tuned it.  Then I bethought me of my severance from my\nchildren and my family and sang the following verses:\n\nIt may be that He, who restored his folk to Joseph of old And\n     raised him to high estate from the prison where in bonds he\n     lay,\nWill hear our prayer and unite us; for Allah, the Lord of the\n     worlds, All-powerful is, and His puissance knows neither let\n     nor stay.\n\nWhen the barber heard this, exceeding delight took possession of\nhim and he was of great good cheer; (for it is said that when\nIbrahim's neighbours heard him [but] say, \"Ho, boy, saddle the\nmule!\"  they were filled with delight).  Then, being overborne by\nmirth, he said to me (continues Ibrahim), \"O my lord, wilt thou\ngive me leave to say what is come to my mind, for all I am not of\nthe folk of the craft?\"  \"Do so,\" answered I; \"this is of thy\ngreat courtesy and kindness.\"  So he took the lute and sang the\nfollowing verses:\n\nUnto our loved ones we made our moan of our nights so long and\n     drear; And lo, \"How short is the night with us!\" quoth they\n     we hold so dear.\nThis is because quick-coming sleep closes their happy eyes, But\n     slumber comes not to close our lids, that burn with many a\n     tear.\nWhen the night approaches, the night so dread and drear to those\n     that love, We are oppressed with grief; but they rejoice,\n     when the night draws near.\nHad they but drunken our bitter cup and suffered of our dole,\n     Then were their nights as ours, as long and full of heavy\n     cheer.\n\n\"Thou hast acquitted thee rarely, O my friend,\" said I, \"and hast\ndone away from me the pangs of sorrow.  Let me hear more trifles\nof thy fashion.\"  So he sang these verses:\n\nSo a man's honour be unstained and free of all impair, Lo, every\n     garment that he dights on him is fit and fair.\nShe taunted me, because, forsooth, our numbers were but few; But\n     I \"The noble,\" answer made, \"are ever few and rare.\"\nIt irks us nought that we are few and eke our neighbour great,\n     For all the neighbours of most folk are scant and mean\n     elsewhere;\nFor we're a folk, that deem not death an evil nor reproach,\n     Albeit Aamir and Seloul so deem, of their despair.\nThe love of death that is in us brings near our ends to us, But\n     theirs, who loathe and rail at it, are long and far to fare.\nWe, an it like us, give the lie to others of their speech; But,\n     when we speak, no man on earth to gainsay us doth dare.\n\nWhen I heard this, I was filled with delight and marvelled\nexceedingly.  Then I slept and awoke not till past nightfall,\nwhen I washed my face, with a mind full of the high worth of this\nbarber-surgeon; after which I aroused him and taking out a purse\nI had with me, containing a considerable sum of money, threw it\nto him, saying, \"I commend thee to God, for I am about to go\nforth from thee, and beg thee to spend what is in this purse on\nthine occasions; and thou shalt have an abounding reward of me,\nwhen I am quit of my fear.\"  But he returned it to me, saying, \"O\nmy lord, poor wretches like myself are of no value in thine eyes;\nbut how, for mine own dignity's sake, can I take a price for the\nboon which fortune hath vouchsafed me of thy favour and company?\nBy Allah, if thou repeat thy words and throw the purse to me\nagain, I will kill myself.\"  So I put the purse in my sleeve (and\nindeed its weight was irksome to me) and would have gone away;\nbut when I came to the door of the house, he said to me, \"O my\nlord, this is a safer hiding-place for thee than another, and thy\nkeep is no burden to me; so do thou abide with me, till God grant\nthee relief.\"  So I turned back, saying, \"On condition that thou\nspend of the money in this purse.\"  He let me believe that he\nconsented to this, and I abode with him some days in the utmost\ncomfort; but, perceiving that he spent none of the contents of\nthe purse, I revolted at the idea of abiding at his charge and\nthought shame to be a burden on him; so I disguised myself in\nwomen's apparel, donning walking-boots and veil, and left his\nhouse.\n\nWhen I found myself in the street, I was seized with excessive\nfear, and going to pass the bridge, came to a place sprinkled\nwith water, where a trooper, who had been in my service, saw me\nand knowing me, cried out, saying, \"This is he whom Mamoun\nseeks!\"  Then he laid hold of me, but the love of life lent me\nstrength and I gave him a push, which threw him and his horse\ndown in that slippery place, so that he became an example to\nthose who will take warning and the folk hastened to him.\nMeanwhile, I hurried on over the bridge and entered a street,\nwhere I saw the door of a house open and a woman standing in the\nvestibule.  So I said to her, \"O my lady, have pity on me and\nsave my life; for I am a man in fear.\"  Quoth she, \"Enter and\nwelcome;\" and carried me into an upper chamber, where she spread\nme a bed and brought me food, saying, \"Calm thy fear, for not a\nsoul shall know of thee.\"  As she spoke, there came a loud\nknocking at the door; so she went and opened, and lo, it was my\nfriend whom I had thrown down on the bridge, with his head bound\nup, the blood running down upon his clothes and without his\nhorse.  \"O so and so,\" said she, \"what hath befallen thee?\"\nQuoth he, \"I made prize of the man [whom the Khalif seeks] and he\nescaped from me.\"  And told her the whole story.  So she brought\nout tinder and applying it to his head, bound it up with a piece\nof rag; after which she spread him a bed and he lay sick.  Then\nshe came up to me and said, \"Methinks thou art the man in\nquestion?\"  \"I am,\" answered I, and she said, \"Fear not: no harm\nshall befall thee,\" and redoubled in kindness to me.\n\nI abode with her three days, at the end of which time she said to\nme, \"I am in fear for thee, lest yonder man happen upon thee and\nbetray thee to what thou dreadest; so save thyself by flight.\"  I\nbesought her to let me tarry till nightfall, and she said, \"There\nis no harm in that.\"  So, when the night came, I put on my\nwoman's attire and taking leave of her, betook me to the house of\na freed woman, who had once been mine.  When she saw me, she wept\nand made a show of affliction and praised God the Most High for\nmy safety.  Then she went forth, as if she would go to the\nmarket, in the interests of hospitality, and I thought no harm;\nbut, ere long, I espied Ibrahim el Mausili[FN#132] making for the\nhouse, with his servants and troopers, led by a woman whom I\nknew for the mistress of the house.  She brought them to my\nhiding-place and delivered me into their hands, and I saw death\nface to face.  They carried me, in my woman's attire, to Mamoun,\nwho called a general council and let bring me before him.  When I\nentered I saluted him by the title of Khalif, saying, \"Peace be\non thee, O Commander of the Faithful!\"  and he replied, \"May God\nneither give thee peace nor bless thee!\"  \"At thy leisure, O\nCommander of the Faithful!\"  rejoined I.  \"It is for him in whose\nhand is revenge[FN#133] to decree retaliation or forgiveness; but\nforgiveness is nigher to the fear of God, and God hath set thy\nforgiveness above all other, even as He hath made my sin to excel\nall other sin.  So, if thou punish, it is of thy right, and if\nthou pardon, it is of thy bounty.\"  And I repeated the following\nverses:\n\nGreat is my sin, in sooth, 'gainst thee, But thou art greater\n     still, perdie.\nSo take thy due of me, or else Remit it of thy clemency.\nIf of the noble I've not been Indeed, yet do thou of them be.\n\nAt this he raised his head to me and I hastened to add these\nverses:\n\nIndeed, I've offended full sore, But thou art disposed to\n     forgive.\n'Twere justice to punish my crime And grace to allow me to live.\n\nThen he bowed his head and repeated the following verses:\n\nWhenas a friend against me doth grievously offend And maketh me\n     with anger to choke, yet in the end,\nI pardon his offending and take him back again Into my favour,\n     fearing to live without a friend.\n\nWhen I heard this, I scented the odour of mercy, knowing his\ndisposition to clemency.  Then he turned to his son El Abbas and\nhis brother Abou Ishac and other his chief officers there\npresent and said to them, \"What deem ye of his case!\"  They all\ncounselled him to slay me, but differed as to the manner of my\ndeath.  Then said he to Ahmed ibn Ali Khalid,[FN#134] \"And what\nsayst thou, O Ahmed?\"  \"O Commander of the Faithful,\" answered\nhe, \"if thou put him to death, we find thy like who hath slain\nthe like of him; but, if thou pardon him, we find not the like of\nthee that hath pardoned the like of him.\"  At this Mamoun bowed\nhis head and repeated the following verse:\n\nThe people of my tribe, they have my brother slain; But, an I\n     shoot, my shaft reverts to me again.\n\nAnd also these:\n\nUse not thy brother with despite, Although he mingle wrong with\n     right,\nAnd still be kind to him, all be With thanklessness he thee\n     requite;\nAnd if he go astray and err One day, revile thou not the wight.\nSeest not that loved and loathed at once In every way of life\n     unite?\nThat by the annoy of hoary hairs Embittered is long life's\n     delight,\nAnd that the bristling thorns beset The branch with pleasant\n     fruits bedight?\nWho is it doth good deeds alone And who hath never wrought\n     unright?\nProve but the age's sons, thou'lt find The most have fallen from\n     the light.\n\nWhen I heard this, I uncovered my head and cried out, saying,\n\"God is most great!  By Allah, the Commander of the Faithful\npardons me!\"  Quoth he, \"No harm shall come to thee, O uncle.\"\nAnd I, \"O Commander of the Faithful, my offence is too great for\nme to attempt to extenuate it and thy pardon is too great for me\nto speak a word of thanks for it.\"  And I chanted the following\nverses:\n\n\nSure, He, who made the virtues all, stored them in Adam's loins\n     For His high-priest, the seventh prince of Abbas' royal\n     seed!\nThe hearts of all the folk are filled with reverence for thee,\n     And thou, with meek and humble heart, dost keep them all and\n     lead.\nError-deluded as I was, against thee I rebelled, Intent on\n     covetise alone and base ambitious greed;\nYet hast thou pardon giv'n to one, the like of whom before Was\n     never pardoned, though for him no one with thee did plead,\nAnd on a mother's bleeding heart hadst ruth and little ones, Like\n     to the desert-grouse's young, didst pity in their need.\n\nQuoth Mamoun, \"I say, like our lord Joseph (on whom and on our\nProphet be peace and blessing), 'There shall be no reproach on\nthee this day.  God will forgive thee, for He is the Most\nMerciful of the Merciful ones.'[FN#135] Indeed, I pardon thee, O\nuncle, and restore thee thy goods and lands, and no harm shall\nbefall thee.\"  So I offered up devout prayers for him and\nrepeated the following verses:\n\nMy wealth thou hast given me again and hast not begrudged it to\n     me; Yea, and to boot, before this, my life and my blood thou\n     didst spare.\nSo if, thine approval to win, I lavish my blood and my wealth And\n     e'en to the shoe off my foot, in thy service, I strip myself\n     bare,\n'Twere but the restoring to thee of the loans that I owe to thy\n     grace Which none might reproach thee nor blame, I trow,\n     hadst thou chos'n to forbear.\nUngrateful henceforth if I prove for the favours vouchsafed me by\n     thee, Still worthier of blame than thyself of honour and\n     reverence I were.\n\nThen Mamoun showed me honour and favour and said to me, \"O uncle,\nAbou Ishac and Abbas counselled me to put thee to death.\"  \"And\nthey counselled thee right loyally, O Commander of the Faithful,\"\nanswered I; \"but thou hast done after thine own nature and hast\nput away what I feared with what I hoped.\"  \"O uncle,\" rejoined\nhe, \"thou didst extinguish my rancour with the humbleness of\nthine excuse, and I pardon thee without making thee drink the\nbitterness of obligation to intercessors.\"  Then he prostrated\nhimself in prayer a long while, after which he raised his head\nand said to me, \"O uncle, knowest thou why I prostrated myself?\"\n\"Haply,\" answered I, \"thou didst this in thanksgiving to God, for\nthat He hath given thee the mastery over thine enemy.\"  \"Not so,\"\nrejoined he, \"but to thank Him for having inspired me to pardon\nthee and purified my mind towards thee.  Now tell me thy story.\"\nSo I told him all that had befallen me and he sent for the\nfreed-woman, who was in her house, expecting the reward.  When\nshe came, he said to her, \"What moved thee to deal thus with thy\nlord?\"  And she answered, \"Lust of money.\"  \"Hast thou a child or\na husband?\"  asked the Khalif; and she said, \"No.\"  So he bade\ngive her a hundred blows with a whip and imprisoned her for life.\nThen he sent for the soldier and his wife and the barber-surgeon\nand asked the former what had moved him to do thus.  \"Lust of\nmoney,\" answered he; whereupon quoth the Khalif, \"It befits that\nthou be a  barber-surgeon,\"[FN#136] and committed him to one whom\nhe charged to place him in a barber's shop, where he might learn\nthe craft.  But his wife he entreated with honour and lodged in\nhis palace, saying, \"This is a woman of sense and apt for matters\nof moment.\"  Then said he to the barber-surgeon, \"Verily, what\nhas come to light of thy worth and generosity calls for\nextraordinary honour.\"  So he commanded the trooper's house and\nall that was therein to be given him and bestowed on him a dress\nof honour and fifteen thousand dinars.'\n\n\n\n\n                       THE CITY OF IREM.\n\n\n\nIt is related that Abdallah ben Abou Kilabeh went forth in quest\nof a camel that had strayed from him; and as he was wandering in\nthe deserts of Yemen and Sebaa, he came upon a great city in\nwhose midst was a vast citadel compassed about with pavilions,\nthat rose high into the air. He made for the place, thinking to\nfind there inhabitants, of whom he might enquire concerning his\ncamel; but, when he reached it, he found it deserted, without a\nliving soul in it. So (quoth Abdallah), 'I alighted and hobbling\nmy she-camel, took courage and entered the city. When I came to\nthe citadel, I found it had two vast gates, never in the world\nwas seen their like for size and loftiness, inlaid with all\nmanner jewels and jacinths, white and red and yellow and green.\nAt this I marvelled greatly and entering the citadel, trembling\nand dazed with wonder and affright, found it long and wide, as it\nwere a city[FN#137] for bigness; and therein were lofty storied\npavilions, builded of gold and silver and inlaid with many-\ncoloured jewels and jacinths and chrysolites and pearls. The\nleaves of their doors were even as those of the citadel for\nbeauty and their floors strewn with great pearls and balls, as\nthey were hazel-nuts, of musk and ambergris and saffron. When I\ncame within the city and saw no human being therein, I had nigh-\nwell swooned and died for fear. Moreover, I looked down from the\nsummit of the towers and balconies and saw rivers running under\nthem; in the streets were fruit-laden trees and tall palms, and\nthe manner of the building of the city was one brick of gold and\none of silver. So I said to myself, \"Doubtless this is the\nParadise promised for the world to come.\" Then I took of the\njewels of its gravel and the musk of its dust as much as I could\nbear and returned to my own country, where I told the folk what I\nhad seen.\n\nAfter awhile, the news reached Muawiyeh ben Abou Sufyan, who was\nthen Khalif in the Hejaz; so he wrote to his lieutenant in Senaa\nof Yemen to send for the teller of the story and question him of\nthe truth of the case. Accordingly the lieutenant sent for me and\nquestioned me, and I told him what I had seen; whereupon he\ndespatched me to Muawiyeh, to whom I repeated my story; but he\nwould not credit it. So I brought out to him some of the pearls\nand balls of musk and ambergris and saffron, in which latter\nthere was still some sweet smell; but the pearls were grown\nyellow and discoloured. The Khalif wondered at this and sending\nfor Kaab el Ahbar,[FN#138], said to him, \"O Kaab el Ahbar, I have\nsent for thee to learn the truth of a certain matter and hope\nthat thou wilt be able to certify me thereanent.\" \"What is it, O\nCommander of the Faithful?\" asked Kaab, and Muawiyeh said,\n\"Wottest thou of a city builded of gold and silver, the pillars\nwhereof are of rubies and chrysolites and its gravel pearls and\nballs of musk and ambergris and saffron?\" \"Yes, O Commander of\nthe Faithful,\" answered Kaab. \"It is Irem of the Columns, the\nlike of which was never made in the lands,'[FN#139] and it was\nSheddad son of Aad the Great that built it.\" Quoth the Khalif,\n\"Tell us of its history,\" and Kaab said, \"Aad the Great had two\nsons, Shedid and Sheddad. When their father died, they ruled in\nhis stead, and there was no king of the kings of the earth but\nwas subject to them. After awhile Shedid died and his brother\nSheddad reigned over the earth alone. Now he was fond of reading\nin old books, and happening upon the description of the world to\ncome and of Paradise, with its pavilions and galleries and trees\nand fruits and so forth, his soul moved him to build the like\nthereof in this world, after the fashion aforesaid.[FN#140] Now\nunder his hand were a hundred thousand kings, each ruling over a\nhundred thousand captains, commanding each a hundred thousand\nwarriors; so he called these all before him and said to them, 'I\nfind in old books and histories a description of Paradise, as it\nis to be in the next world, and I desire to build its like in\nthis world. Go ye forth therefore to the goodliest and most\nspacious tract in the world and build me there a city of gold and\nsilver, whose gravel shall be rubies and chrysolites and pearls\nand the columns of its vaults beryl. Fill it with palaces,\nwhereon ye shall set galleries and balconies, and plant its lanes\nand thoroughfares with all manner of trees bearing ripe fruits\nand make rivers to run through it in channels of gold and\nsilver.' 'How can we avail to do this thing,' answered they, 'and\nwhence shall we get the chrysolites and rubies and pearls whereof\nthou speakest?' Quoth he, 'Know ye not that all the kings of the\nword are under my hand and that none that is therein dare gainsay\nmy commandment?' 'Yes,' answered they; 'we know that.' 'Get ye\nthen,' rejoined he, 'to the mines of chrysolites and rubies and\ngold and silver and to the pearl-fisheries and gather together\nall that is in the world of jewels and metals of price and leave\nnought; and take also for me such of these things as be in men's\nhands and let nothing escape you: be diligent and beware of\ndisobedience.'\n\nThen he wrote letters to all the [chief] kings of the world (now\nthe number of kings then reigning [in chief] over the earth was\nthree hundred and threescore kings) and bade them gather together\nall of these things that were in their subjects' hands and get\nthem to the mines of precious stones and metals and bring forth\nall that was therein, even from the abysses of the seas. This\nthey accomplished in the space of twenty years, and Sheddad then\nassembled from all lands and countries builders and men of art\nand labourers and handicraftsmen, who dispersed over the world\nand explored all the wastes and deserts thereof, till they came\nto a vast and fair open plain, clear of hills and mountains, with\nsprings welling and rivers running, and said, 'This is even such\na place as the King commanded us to find.' So they busied\nthemselves in building the city even as Sheddad, King of the\nwhole earth in its length and breadth, had commanded them, laying\nthe foundations and leading the rivers therethrough in channels\nafter the prescribed fashion. Moreover, all the Kings of the\nearth sent thither jewels and precious stones and pearls large\nand small and cornelian and gold and silver upon camels by land\nand in great ships over the waters, and there came to the\nbuilders' hands of all these things so great a quantity as may\nneither be told or imagined. They laboured at the work three\nhundred years; and when they had wrought it to end, they went to\nKing Sheddad and acquainted him therewith. Then said he, 'Depart\nand make thereto an impregnable citadel, rising high into the\nair, and round it a thousand pavilions, each builded on a\nthousand columns of chrysolite and ruby and vaulted with gold,\nthat in each pavilion may dwell a Vizier.' So they returned and\ndid this in other twenty years; after which they again presented\nthemselves before the King and informed him of the accomplishment\nof his will. Then he commanded his Viziers, who were a thousand\nin number, and his chief officers and such of his troops and\nothers as he put trust in, to prepare for departure and removal\nto Many-Columned Irem, at the stirrup of Sheddad son of Aad, king\nof the world; and he bade also such as he would of his women and\nof his female slaves and eunuchs make them ready for the journey.\nThey spent twenty years preparing for departure, at the end of\nwhich time Sheddad set out with his host, rejoicing in the\nattainment of his wish, and fared forward till there remained but\none day's journey between him and Item. Then God sent down on him\nand on the stubborn unbelievers with him a thunderblast from the\nheavens of His power, which destroyed them all with a mighty\nclamour, and neither he nor any of his company set eyes on the\ncity. Moreover, God blotted out the road that led to the city,\nand it stands unchanged, in its stead, until the Resurrection\nDay.\"\n\nMuawiyeh wondered greatly ad Kaab's story and said to him, \"Hath\nany mortal ever made his way to the city?\" \"Yes,\" answered Kaab;\n\"one of the companions of Mohammed (on whom be peace and\nsalvation) reached it, doubtless after the same fashion as this\nman who sits here.\" And (quoth Es Shaabi) it is related, on the\nauthority of learned men of Himyer of Yemen, that Sheddad was\nsucceeded in his kingship by his son Sheddad the Less, whom he\nleft his viceregent in Hezremout and Sebaa, when he set out for\nIrem. When he heard of his father's death on the road, he caused\nhis body to be brought back to Hezremout and let hew him out a\nsepulchre in a cavern, where he laid the body on a throne of gold\nand threw over it threescore and ten robes of cloth of gold,\nembroidered with precious stones; and at his head he set up a\ntablet of gold, on which were graven the following verses:\n\nTake warning, thou that by long life Art duped and thinkst to\n     live alway.\nI'm Sheddad son of Aad, a high And mighty monarch in my day;\nLord of the columned citadel, Great was my prowess in the fray.\nAll the world's peoples feared my might And did my ordinance\n     obey;\nYes, and I held the East and West And ruled them with an iron\n     sway.\nOne[FN#141] came to us with God's command And summoned us to the\n     right way\n\"Is there no 'scaping from this thing?\" Quoth we and did his word\n     gainsay.\nThen on us fell a thunderblast From out the heaven far away,\nAnd like the sheaves in reaping-time Midmost a field, o'erthrown\n     we lay.\nAnd now beneath the storied plains Of earth we wait the appointed\n     Day.\n\n(Quoth Eth Thaalibi also) It chanced that two men once entered\nthis cavern and found at its upper end a stair; so they descended\nand came to an underground chamber, a hundred cubits long by\nforth wide and a hundred high. In the midst stood a throne of\ngold, whereon lay a man of gigantic stature, filling the whole\nlength and breadth of the throne. He was covered with jewelry and\nraiment gold and silver wrought, and at his head was a tablet of\ngold, bearing an inscription. So they took the tablet and bore it\noff, together with as many bars of gold and silver and so forth\nas they could away with.\n\n\n\n\n          ISAAC OF MOSUL'S STORY OF THE LADY KHEDIJEH\n                     AND THE KHALIF MAMOUN\n\n\n\n(Quoth Isaac of Mosul[FN#142]) 'I went out one night from\nMamoun's presence, on my way to my house, and being taken with a\nneed to make water, I turned aside into a by-street and stood up\nagainst a wall, fearing lest something might hurt me, if I\nsquatted down. Presently, I espied something hanging down from\none of the houses and feeling it, found that it was a great four-\nhandled basket, covered with brocade. \"There must be some reason\nfor this,\" said I to myself and knew not what to think, then\ndrunkenness led me to seat myself in the basket, whereupon the\npeople of the house pulled me up, supposing me to be he whom they\nexpected. When I came to the top of the wall, I found four\ndamsels, who said to me, \"Descend and welcome!\" Then one of them\nwent before me with a flambeau and brought me down into a\nmansion, wherein were furnished sitting-chambers, whose like I\nhad never seen, save in the Khalif's palace. So I sat down and\nafter awhile, the curtains were drawn from one side of the room\nand in came damsels bearing lighted flambeaux and censers full of\nSumatran aloes-wood, and amongst them a young lady as she were\nthe rising full moon. I rose and she said, \"Welcome to thee for a\nvisitor!\" Then she made me sit down again and asked how I came\nthither. Quoth I, \"I was returning home from a friend's house and\nwent astray in the dark; then, being taken with an urgent\noccasion, I turned aside into this street, where I found a basket\nlet down. The wine which I had drunk led me to seat myself in it\nand it was drawn up with me into this house.\" \"No harm shall\nbefall thee,\" rejoined she, \"and I hope thou wilt have cause to\npraise the issue of thine adventure. But what is thy condition?\"\n\"I am a merchant in the Baghdad bazaar,\" replied I, and she,\n\"Canst thou repeat any verses?\" \"Some small matter,\" answered I.\n\"Then,\" said she, \"let us hear some of them.\" But I said, \"A\nvisitor is [naturally] bashful; do thou begin.\" \"True,\" answered\nshe and recited some of the choicest verses of the poets, past\nand present, so that I knew not whether more to marvel at her\nbeauty and grace or at the charm of her diction. Then said she,\n\"Is thy bashfulness gone?\" \"Yes, by Allah!\" answered I. \"Then, if\nthou wilt,\" rejoined she, \"recite us somewhat.\" So I repeated to\nher a number of poems by old writers, and she applauded, saying,\n\"By Allah I did not look to find such culture among the trader\nfolk!\"\n\nThen she called for food and fell to taking of it and setting it\nbefore me; and the place was full of all manner sweet-scented\nflowers and rare fruits, such as are found only in kings' houses.\nPresently, she called for wine and drank a cup, after which she\nfilled another and gave it to me, saying, \"Now is the time for\nconverse and story-telling.\" So I bethought myself and related to\nher a number of pleasing stories and anecdotes, with which she\nwas delighted and said, \"It is wonderful that a merchant should\nhave such store of tales like unto these, for they are fit for\nkings.\" Quoth I, \"I have a neighbour who uses to consort with\nkings and bear them company at table; so, when he is at leisure,\nI visit his house and he often tells me what he has heard.\" \"By\nmy life,\" exclaimed she, \"thou hast a good memory!\"\n\nWe continued to converse thus, and as often as I was silent, she\nwould begin, till the most part of the night was spent, whilst\nthe burning aloes-wood diffused its fragrance and I was in such\ncase as, if the Khalif had suspected it, would have made him wild\nwith longing for it. Then said she to me, \"Verily, thou art one\nof the most pleasant and accomplished of men and passing well-\nbred; but there lacks one thing.\" \"What is that?\" asked I, and\nshe said, \"If but thou knewest how to sing verses to the lute!\" I\nanswered, \"I was once passionately fond of this art, but finding\nI had no gift for it, I abandoned it, thou reluctantly. Indeed, I\nshould love to sing somewhat well at this present and fulfil my\nnight's enjoyment.\" \"Meseemeth thou hintest a wish for the lute\nto be brought?\" said she, and I, \"It is thine to decide, if thou\nwilt so far favour me, and to thee be the thanks.\" So she called\nfor a lute and sang a song, in a manner whose like I never heard,\nboth for sweetness of voice and perfection of style and skill in\nplaying, in short, for general excellence. Then said she,\n\"Knowest thou who made the air and words of this song?\" \"No,\"\nanswered I; and she said, \"The words are so and so's and the air\nis Isaac's.\" \"And hath Isaac then (may I be thy ransom!) such a\ntalent?\" asked I. \"Glory be to Isaac!\" replied she. \"Indeed he\nexcels in this art.\" \"Glory be to Allah,\" exclaimed I, \"who hath\ngiven this man what He hath vouchsafed unto none other!\" And she\nsaid, \"How would it be, if thou heardest this song from himself?\"\nThus did we till break of day, when there came to her an old\nwoman, as she were her nurse, and said to her, \"The time is\ncome.\" So she rose and said to me, \"Keep what hath passed between\nus to thyself; for meetings of this kind are in confidence.\" \"May\nI be thy ransom!\" answered I. \"I needed no enjoinder of this.\"\nThen I took leave of her and she sent a damsel to open the door\nto me; so I went forth and retuned to my own house, where I\nprayed the morning prayer and slept.\n\nPresently, there came to me a messenger from the Khalif; so I\nwent to him and passed the day in his company. When the night\ncame, I called to mind my yesternight's pleasure, a thing from\nwhich none but a fool could be content to abstain, and betook\nmyself to the street, where I found the basket, and seating\nmyself therein, was drawn up to the place in which I had passed\nthe previous night. When the lady saw me, she said, \"Indeed, thou\nart assiduous,\" And I answered, \"Meseems rather that I am\nneglectful.\" Then we fell to conversing and passed the night as\nbefore in talking and reciting verses and telling rare stories,\neach in turn, till daybreak, when I returned home. I prayed the\nmorning prayer and slept, and there came to me a messenger from\nMamoun. So I went to him and spent the day with him till\nnightfall, when he said to me, \"I conjure thee to sit here,\nwhilst I go on an occasion and come back.\" As soon as he was\ngone, my thoughts turned to the lady and calling to mind my late\ndelight, I recked little what might befall me from the Commander\nof the Faithful. So I sprang up and going out, ran to the street\naforesaid, where I sat down in the basket and was drawn up as\nbefore. When the lady saw me, she said, \"Verily, thou art a\nsincere friend to us.\" \"Yea, by Allah!\" answered I; and she said,\n\"Hath thou made our house thine abiding-place?\" \"May I be thy\nransom!\" replied I. \"A guest hath a right to three days'\nentertainment, and if I return after this, ye are free to shed my\nblood.\" Then we passed the night as before; and when the time of\ndeparture drew near, I bethought me that Mamoun would certainly\nquestion me nor be content save with a full explanation: so I\nsaid to her, \"I see thee to be of those who delight in singing.\nNow I have a cousin who is handsomer than I and higher of station\nand more accomplished; and he is the most intimate of all God's\ncreatures with Isaac.\" \"Art thou a spunger?\" asked she. \"Verily,\nthou art importunate.\" Quoth I, \"It is for thee to decide;\" and\nshe, \"If thy cousin be as thou sayst, it would not displease me\nto make his acquaintance.\"\n\nThen I left her and returned to my house, but hardly had I\nreached it, when the Khalif's messengers came down on me and\ncarried me before him by main force. I found him seated on a\nchair, wroth with me, and he said to me, \"O Isaac, art thou a\ntraitor to thine allegiance?\" \"No, by Allah, O Commander of the\nFaithful!\" answered I. \"What hast thou then to say?\" asked he.\n\"Tell me the truth.\" And I replied, \"I will well; but in\nprivate.\" So he signed to his attendants, who withdrew to a\ndistance, and I told him the case, adding, \"I promised to bring\nthee to visit her.\" And he said, \"Thou didst well.\" Then we spent\nthe day in our usual pleasures, but Mamoun's heart was taken with\nthe lady, and hardly was the appointed time come, when we set\nout. As we went along, I cautioned him, \"Look that thou call me\nnot by my name before her; but do thou sing and I will accompany\nthee.\" He assented to this, and we fared on till we came to the\nhouse, where we found two baskets hanging ready. So we sat down\nin them and were drawn up to the usual place, where the damsel\ncame forward and saluted us. When Mamoun saw her, he was amazed\nat her beauty and grace; and she began to entertain him with\nstories and verses. Presently, she called for wine and we fell to\ndrinking, she paying him especial attention and delighting in him\nand he repaying her in kind. Then he took the lute and sang an\nair, after which she said to me, \"And is thy cousin also a\nmerchant?\" \"Yes,\" answered I, and she said, \"Indeed, ye resemble\none another nearly.\" But when Mamoun had drunk three pints, he\ngrew merry with wine and called out saying, \"Ho, Isaac!\" \"At thy\nservice, O Commander of the Faithful,\" answered I. Quoth he,\n\"Sing me such an air.\"\n\nAs soon as the lady knew that he was the Khalif, she withdrew to\nanother place, and when I had made an end of my song, Mamoun said\nto me, \"See who is the master of this house;\" whereupon an old\nwoman hastened to make answer, saying, \"It belongs to Hassan ben\nSehl.\"[FN#143] \"Fetch him to me,\" said the Khalif. So she went\naway and after awhile in came Hassan, to whom said Mamoun, \"Hath\nthou a daughter?\" \"Yes,\" answered he; \"her name is Khedijeh.\" \"Is\nshe married?\" asked the Khalif. \"No, by Allah!\" replied Hassan.\n\"Then,\" said Mamoun, \"I ask her of thee in marriage.\" \"O\nCommander of the Faithful,\" replied Hassan, \"she is thy\nhandmaiden and at thy commandment.\" Quoth Mamoun, \"I take her to\nwife at a present dower of thirty thousand dinars, which thou\nshalt receive this very morning; and do thou being her to us this\nnext night.\" And Hassan answered, \"I hear and obey.\"\n\n'Then he went out, and the Khalif said to me, \"O Isaac, tell this\nstory to no one.\" So I kept it secret till Mamoun's death. Surely\nnever was man's life to fulfilled with delights as was mine these\nfour days' time, whenan I companied with Mamoun by day and with\nKhedijeh by night; and by Allah, never saw I among men the like\nof Mamoun, neither among women have I ever set eyes on the like\nof Khedijeh, no, nor on any that came near her in wit and\nunderstanding and pleasant speech!'\n\n\n\n\n              THE SCAVENGER AND THE NOBLE LADY OF\n                            BAGHDAD.\n\n\n\nAt Mecca, one day, in the season of pilgrimage, whilst the people\nwere making the enjoined circuits about the Holy House and the\nplace of compassing was crowded, a man laid hold of the covering\nof the Kaabeh and cried out, from the bottom of his heart,\nsaying, 'I beseech Thee, O God, that she may once again be wroth\nwith her husband and that I may lie with her!' A company of the\npilgrims heard him and falling on him, loaded him with blows and\ncarried him to the governor of the pilgrims, to whom said they,\n'O Amir, we found this man in the Holy Places, saying thus and\nthus.' The governor commanded to hang him; but he said, 'O Amir,\nI conjure thee, by the virtue of the Prophet (whom God bless and\npreserve), hear my story and after do with me as thou wilt.' 'Say\non,' quoth the Amir. 'Know then, O Amir,' said the man, 'that I\nam a scavenger, who works in the sheep-slaughterhouses and\ncarries off the blood and the offal to the rubbish-heaps.[FN#144]\nOne day, as I went along with my ass loaded, I saw the people\nrunning away and one of them said to me, \"Enter this alley, lest\nthey kill thee.\" Quoth I, \"What ails the folk to run away?\" And\nhe answered, \"It is the eunuchs in attendance on the wife of one\nof the notables, who drive the people out of her way and beat\nthem all, without distinction.\" So I turned aside with the ass\nand stood, awaiting the dispersal of the crowd. Presently up came\na number of eunuchs with staves in their hands, followed by nigh\nthirty women, and amongst them a lady as she were a willow-wand\nor a thirsty gazelle, perfect in beauty and elegance and amorous\ngrace. When she came to the mouth of the passage where I stood,\nshe turned right and left and calling one of the eunuchs,\nwhispered in his ear; whereupon he came up to me and laying hold\nof me, bound me with a rope and haled me along after him, whilst\nanother eunuch took my ass and made off with it. I knew not what\nwas to do and the people followed us, crying out, \"This is not\nallowed of God! What has this poor scavenger done that he should\nbe bound with ropes?\" and saying to the eunuchs, \"Have pity on\nhim and let him go, so God have pity on you!\" And I the while\nsaid in myself, \"Doubtless the eunuch seized me, because his\nmistress smelt the offal and it sickened her. Belike she is with\nchild or ailing; but there is no power and no virtue save in God\nthe Most High, the Supreme!\" So I walked on behind them, till\nthey stopped at the door of a great house and entering, brought\nme into a great hall, I know not how I shall describe its\ngoodliness, furnished with magnificent furniture. The women\nwithdrew to the harem, leaving me bound with the eunuch and\nsaying in myself, \"Doubtless they will torture me here till I\ndie, and none know of my death.\" However, after a while, they\ncarried me into an elegant bathroom, adjoining the hall; and as I\nsat there, in came three damsels, who seated themselves round me\nand said to me, \"Strip off thy rags.\" So I pulled off my\nthreadbare clothes, and one of them fell a-rubbing my feet,\nwhilst another washed my head and the third scrubbed my body.\nWhen they had made an end of washing me, they brought me a parcel\nof clothes and said to me, \"Put these on.\" \"By Allah,\" answered\nI, \"I know not how!\" So they came up to me and dressed me,\nlaughing at me the while; after which they brought casting-\nbottles, full of rose-water, and sprinkled me therewith. Then I\nwent out with them into another saloon, by Allah, I know not how\nto set out its goodliness, for the much paintings and furniture\ntherein; and here I found the lady seated on a couch of Indian\ncane with ivory feet and before her a number of damsels. When she\nsaw me, she rose and called to me; so I went up to her and she\nmade me sit by her side. Then she called for food, and the\ndamsels brought all manner rich meats, such as I never saw in all\nmy life; I do not even know the names of the dishes. So I ate my\nfill and when the dishes had been taken away and we had washed\nour hands, she called for fruits and bade me eat of them; after\nwhich she bade one of the waiting-women bring the wine-service.\nSo they set on flagons of divers kinds of wine and burned\nperfumes in all the censers, what while a damsel like the moon\nrose and served us with wine, to the sound of the smitten\nstrings. We sat and drank, the lady and I, till we were warm with\nwine, whilst I doubted not but that all this was an illusion of\nsleep. Presently, she signed to one of the damsels to spread us a\nbed in such a place, which being done, she took me by the hand\nand led me thither. So I lay with her till the morning, and as\noften as I pressed her in my arms, I smelt the delicious\nfragrance of musk and other perfumes that exhaled from her and\ncould think no otherwise but that I was in Paradise or in the\nmazes of a dream. When it was day, she asked me where I lodged\nand I told her, \"In such a place;\" whereupon she gave me a\nhandkerchief gold and silver wrought, with somewhat tied in it,\nand bade me depart, saying, \"Go to the bath with this.\" So I\nrejoiced and said to myself, \"If there be but five farthings\nhere, it will buy me the morning meal.\" Then I left her, as I\nwere leaving Paradise, and returned to my lodging, where I opened\nthe handkerchief and found in it fifty dinars of gold. I buried\nthem in the ground and buying two farthings' worth of bread and\nmeat, sat down at the door and breakfasted; after which I sat\npondering my case till the time of afternoon-prayer, when a\nslave-girl accosted me, saying, \"My mistress calls for thee.\" So\nI followed her to the house aforesaid and she carried me in to\nthe lady, before whom I kissed the earth, and she bade me sit and\ncalled for meat and wine as on the previous day; after which I\nagain lay with her all night. On the morrow, she gave me a second\nhandkerchief, with other fifty dinars therein, and I took it and\ngoing home, buried this also.\n\nThus did I eight days running, going in to her at the hour of\nafternoon-prayer and leaving her at daybreak; but, on the eighth\nnight, as I lay with her, one of her maids came running in and\nsaid to me, \"Arise, go up into yonder closet.\" So I rose and went\ninto the closet, which was over the gate and had a window giving\nupon the street in front of the house. Presently, I heard a great\nclamour and tramp of horse, and looking out of the window, saw a\nyoung man, as he were the rising moon on the night of her full,\ncome riding up, attended by a number of servants and soldiers. He\nalighted at the door and entering, found the lady seated on the\ncouch in the saloon. So he kissed the earth before her, then came\nup to her and kissed her hands; but she would not speak to him.\nHowever, he ceased not to soothe her and speak her fair, till he\nmade his peace with her, and they lay together that night. Next\nmorning, the soldiers came for him and he mounted and rode away;\nwhereupon she came in to me and said, \"Sawst thou yonder man?\"\n\"Yes,\" answered I; and she said, \"He is my husband, and I will\ntell thee what befell me with him.\n\n\"It chanced one day that we were sitting, he and I, in the garden\nwithin the house, when he rose from my side and was absent a long\nwhile, till I grew tired of waiting and said to myself, 'Most\nlike, he is in the wardrobe.' So I went thither, but not finding\nhim there, went down to the kitchen, where I saw a slave-girl, of\nwhom I enquired for him, and she showed him to me lying with one\nof the cook-maids. When I saw this, I swore a great oath that I\nwould do adultery with the foulest and filthiest man in Baghdad;\nand the day the eunuch laid hands on thee, I had been four days\ngoing round about the town in quest of one who should answer this\ndescription, but found none fouler nor more filthy than thee. So\nI took thee and there passed between us that which God fore-\nordained to us; and now I am quit of my oath. But,\" added she,\n\"if my husband return yet again to the cook-maid and lie with\nher, I will restore thee to thy late place in my favours.\"\n\nWhen (continued the scavenger) I heard these words from her lips,\nwhat while she transfixed my heart with the arrows of her\nglances, my tears streamed forth, till my eyelids were sore with\nweeping, and I repeated the saying of the poet:\n\nVouchsafe me the kiss of thy left hand, I prithee, And know that\n     it's worthier far than thy right;\nFor 'tis but a little while since it was washing Sir reverence\n     away from the stead of delight.\n\nThen she gave me other fifty dinars (making in all four hundred\ndinars I had of her) and bade me depart. So I went out from her\nand came hither, that I might pray God (blessed and exalted be\nHe!) to make her husband return to the cook-maid, so haply I\nmight be again admitted to her favours.' When the governor of the\npilgrims heard the man's story, he set him free and said to the\nbystanders, 'God on you, pray for him, for indeed he is\nexcusable.'\n\n\n\n\n                        THE MOCK KHALIF.\n\n\n\nIt is related that the Khalif Haroun er Reshid, being one night\ntroubled with a persistent restlessness, summoned his Vizier\nJaafer the Barmecide and said to him, 'My heart is straitened and\nI have a mind to divert myself tonight by walking about the\nstreets of Baghdad and looking into the affairs of the folk; but\nwe will disguise ourselves as merchants, that none may know us.'\n'I hear and obey,' answered Jaafer. So they rose at once and\nputting off the rich clothes they wore, donned merchants' habits\nand sallied forth, the Khalif and Jaafer and Mesrour the\nheadsman. They walked from place to place, till they came to the\nTigris and saw an old man sitting in a boat; so they went up to\nhim and saluting him, said, 'O old man, we desire thee of thy\nfavour to carry us a-pleasuring down the river, in this thy boat,\nand take this dinar to thy hire.' 'Who may go a-pleasuring on the\nTigris?' replied the boatman. 'Seeing that the Khalif every night\ncomes down the stream in his barge, and with him one crying\naloud, \"Ho, all ye people, great and small, gentle and simple,\nmen and boys, whoso is found in a boat on the Tigris [by night],\nI will strike off his head or hang him to the mast of his boat!\"\nAnd ye had well-nigh met him; for here comes his barge.' But the\nKhalif and Jaafer said, 'O old man, take these two dinars, and\nwhen thou seest the Khalif's barge approaching, run us under one\nof the arches, that we may hide there till he have passed. 'Hand\nover the money,' replied the boatman; 'and on God the Most High\nbe our dependence!' So they gave him the two dinars and embarked\nin the boat; and he put off and rowed about with them awhile,\ntill they saw the barge coming down the river in mid-stream, with\nlighted flambeaux and cressets therein. Quoth the boatman, 'Did I\nnot tell you that the Khalif passed every night? O Protector,\nremove not the veils of Thy protection!' So saying, he ran the\nboat under an arch and threw a piece of black cloth over the\nKhalif and his companions, who looked out from under the covering\nand saw, in the bows of the barge, a man holding a cresset of red\ngold and clad in a tunic of red satin, with a muslin turban on\nhis head. Over one of his shoulders hung a cloak of yellow\nbrocade, and on the other was a green silk bag full of Sumatran\naloes-wood, with which he fed the cresset by way of firewood. In\nthe stern stood another man, clad like the first and bearing a\nlike cresset, and in the barge were two hundred white slaves,\nstanding right and left about a throne of red gold, on which sat\na handsome young man, like the moon, clad in a dress of black,\nembroidered with yellow gold. Before him they saw a man, as he\nwere the Vizier Jaafer, and at his head stood an eunuch, as he\nwere Mesrour, with a drawn sword in his hand, besides a score of\nboon-companions. When the Khalif saw this, he turned to Jaafer\nand said to him, 'Belike this is one of my sons, El Amin or El\nMamoun.' Then he examined the young man that sat on the throne,\nand finding him accomplished in beauty and grace and symmetry,\nsaid to Jaafer, 'Verily, this young man abates no jot of the\nstate of the Khalifate! See, there stands before him one as he\nwere thyself, O Jaafer; yonder eunuch is as he were Mesrour and\nthose boon-companions as they were my own. By Allah, O Jaafer, my\nreason is confounded and I am filled with amazement at this\nthing!' 'And I also, by Allah, O Commander of the Faithful,'\nreplied Jaafer. Then the barge passed on and disappeared from\nsight; whereupon the boatman pushed out again into the stream,\nsaying, 'Praised be God for safety, since none hath fallen in\nwith us!' 'O old man,' said Er Reshid, 'doth the Khalif come down\nthe river every night?' 'Yes, O my lord,' answered the boatman;\n'he hath done so every night this year past.' 'O old man,'\nrejoined Er Reshid, 'we wish thee of thy favour to await us here\nto-morrow night, and we will give thee five dinars, for we are\nstrangers, lodging at El Khendek, and we have a mind to divert\nourselves.' 'With all my heart,' replied the boatman. Then the\nKhalif and Jaafer and Mesrour returned to the palace, where they\nput off their merchants' habits and donning their apparel of\nstate, sat down each in his several room. Then came the amirs and\nviziers and chamberlains and officers, and the Divan assembled as\nof wont.\n\nWhen the night came and all the folk had dispersed and gone each\nhis own way, the Khalif said to his Vizier, 'Come, O Jaafer, let\nus go and amuse ourselves by looking on the other Khalif.' At\nthis, Jaafer and Mesrour laughed, and the three, donning\nmerchants' habits, went out at the privy gate and made their way\nthrough the city, in great glee, till they came to the Tigris,\nwhere they found the boatman sitting, waiting for them. They\nembarked with him in the boat and had not sat long, before up\ncame the mock Khalif's barge, with the cresset-bearers crying\naloud as of wont, and in it two hundred white slaves other than\nthose of the previous night. 'O Vizier,' exclaimed the Khalif,\n'had I heard tell of this, I had not believed it; but I have seen\nit with my own eyes.' Then said he to the boatman, 'Take these\nten dinars and row us along abreast of them, for they are in the\nlight and we in the shade, and we can see them and divert\nourselves by looking on them, but they cannot see us.' So he took\nthe money and pushing off, followed in the shadow of the barge,\ntill they came among the gardens and the barge cast anchor before\na postern door, where they saw servants standing with a mule\nsaddled and bridled. Here the mock Khalif landed and mounting the\nmule, rode away with his boon-companions, attended by his suite\nand preceded by the cresset-bearers crying aloud. Then Haroun and\nJaafer and Mesrour landed also and making their way through the\npress of servants, walked on before them. Presently, the cresset-\nbearers espied them and seeing three strangers in merchants'\nhabits, misdoubted of them; so they pointed them out and caused\nbring them before the mock Khalif, who looked at them and said,\n'How come ye here at this hour?' 'O our lord,' answered they, 'we\nare foreign merchants, who arrived here this day and were out a-\nwalking to-night, when ye came up and these men laid hands on us\nand brought us before thee.' Quoth the mock Khalif, 'Since you\nare strangers, no harm shall befall you; but had ye been of\nBaghdad, I had struck off your heads.' Then he turned to his\nVizier and said to him, 'Take these men with thee; for they are\nour guests this night.' 'I hear and obey, O our lord,' answered\nhe; and they followed him, till they came to a lofty and splendid\npalace of curious ordinance, such as no king possesses, rising\nfrom the dust and laying hold upon the marges of the clouds. Its\ndoor was of teak, inlaid with glittering gold, and by it one\npassed into a saloon, amiddleward which was a basin of water,\nwith an artificial fountain rising from its midst. It was\nfurnished with carpets and cushions and divans of brocade and\ntables and other gear such as amazed the wit and defied\ndescription. There, also, was a curtain drawn, and upon the door\nwere written these two verses:\n\n\nA palace, upon it be blessing and greeting and grace! Fair\n     fortune hath put off her beauty to brighten the place.\nTherein are all manner of marvels and rarities found; The penmen\n     are puzzled in story its charms to retrace.\n\nThe mock Khalif entered with his company and sat down on a throne\nof gold, set with jewels and covered with a prayer-carpet of\nyellow silk; whilst the boon-companions took their seats and the\nsword-bearer stood before him. Then the servants laid the tables\nand they ate and washed their hands, after which the dishes were\nremoved and the wine-service set on, with cups and flagons in due\norder. The cup went round till it came to Er Reshid, who refused\nit, and the mock Khalif said to Jaafer, 'What ails thy friend\nthat he drinks not?' 'O our lord,' replied the Vizier, 'this long\nwhile he hath drunk no wine.' Quoth the mock Khalif, 'I have\ndrink other than this, a kind of apple-wine, that will suit him.'\nSo he let bring apple-sherbet and said to Haroun, 'Drink thou of\nthis, as often as it comes to thy turn.' Then they continued to\ndrink and make merry, till the wine rose to their heads and\nmastered their wits; and Haroun said to Jaafer, 'O Jaafer, by\nAllah, we have no such vessels as these. Would God I knew what\nmanner of man this is!' Presently, the young man glanced at them\nand seeing them talking privily, said, 'It is unmannerly to\nwhisper.' 'No rudeness was meant,' answered Jaafer. 'My friend\ndid but say to me, \"Verily, I have travelled in most countries\nand have caroused and companied with the greatest of kings and\ncaptains; yet never saw I a goodlier ordinance than this nor\npassed a more delightful night; save that the people of Baghdad\nsay, 'Drink without music often leaves headache.'\"' When the mock\nKhalif heard this, he smiled merrily and struck a gong[FN#145]\nwith a rod he had in his hand; whereupon a door opened and out\ncame an eunuch, bearing a stool of ivory, inlaid with glittering\ngold, and followed by a damsel of surpassing beauty and symmetry.\nHe set down the stool and the damsel seated herself on it, as she\nwere the sun shining in the cloudless sky. In her hand she had a\nlute of Indian make, which she laid in her lap and bending over\nit as a mother bends over her child, preluded in four-and-twenty\nmodes, amazing all wits. Then she returned to the first mode and\nsang the following verses to a lively measure:\n\nThe tongue of passion in my heart bespeaketh thee of me And\n     giveth thee to know that I enamoured am of thee.\nThe burning of an anguished heart is witness to my pain And\n     ulcerated eyes and tears that flow incessantly.\nI had no knowledge what Love was, before the love of thee; But\n     God's forewritten ordinance o'ertaketh all that be.\n\nWhen the mock Khalif heard this, he gave a great cry and rent his\nrobe to the skirt, whereupon they let down a curtain over him and\nbrought him a fresh robe, handsomer than the first. He put it on\nand sat as before, till the cup came round to him, when he struck\nthe gong a second time and behold, a door opened and out came an\neunuch with a chair of gold, followed by a damsel handsomer than\nthe first, bearing a lute, such as mortified the heart of the\nenvious. She sat down on the chair and sang to the lute these\nverses:\n\nAh, how can I be patient, when longing in my soul Flames high and\n     from mine eyelids the tears in torrents roll?\nLife hath no sweet, by Allah, wherein I may rejoice. How shall a\n     heart be joyous, that's all fulfilled of dole?\n\nNo sooner did the youth hear this than he gave a great cry and\nrent his clothes to the skirt; whereupon they let down the\ncurtain over him and brought him another dress. He put it on and\nsitting up as before, fell again to cheerful talk, till the cup\ncame round to him, when he smote once more upon the gong and out\ncame an eunuch with a chair, followed by a damsel fairer than she\nwho had foregone her. So she sat down on the chair, with a lute\nin her hand, and sang thereto the following verses:\n\nHave done with your disdain and leave to make me rue; For, by\n     your life, my heart to you was ever true!\nHave ruth on one distraught, the bondslave of your love, Sorry\n     and sick and full of longings ever new.\nSickness, for passion's stress, hath wasted him to nought, And\n     still for your consent to Allah he doth sue.\nO ye full moons, whose place of sojourn is my heart, Amongst the\n     human race whom can I choose but you?\n\nAt this the young man gave a great cry and rent his clothes,\nwhereupon they let fall the curtain over him and brought him\nother clothes. Then he returned to his former case with his boon-\ncompanions and the cup went round as before, till it came to him,\nwhen he struck the gong a fourth time and the door opening, out\ncame a boy, bearing a chair and followed by a damsel. He set the\nchair for her and she sat down upon it and taking the lute, tuned\nit and sang to it these verses:\n\nWhen, when will separation and hatred pass away And what is past\n     of joyance come back to make me gay?\nBut yesterday, in gladness, one dwelling held us both; We saw the\n     enviers napping, all heedless of their prey.\nBut fortune played the traitor with us and sundered us, And left\n     our dwelling-places even as the desert grey.\nWilt have me, O my censor, be solaced for my loves? Alas, my\n     heart the censor, I see, will not obey!\nSo make an end of chiding and leave me to my love; For of my\n     loved one's converse my heart is full alway.\nFair lords, though you've been fickle and broken faith and troth,\n     Deem not my heart for absence forgets you night or day.\n\nWhen the mock Khalif heard the girl's song, he gave a great cry\nand tearing his clothes as before, fell down in a swoon;\nwhereupon they would have let down the curtain over him, as of\nwont; but the cords stuck fast and Er Reshid, chancing to look at\nhim, saw on his body the marks of beating with palm-rods and said\nto Jaafer, 'By Allah, he is a handsome youth, but a foul thief!'\n'Whence knowest thou that, O Commander of the Faithful?' asked\nJaafer, and the Khalif answered, 'Sawst thou not the marks of\nwhips on his sides?' Then they let fall the curtain over him and\nbrought him a fresh dress, which he put on and sat up as before\nwith his courtiers. Presently, he saw the Khalif and Jaafer\nwhispering together and said to them, 'What is the matter,\ngentlemen?' 'Nothing, my lord,' replied Jaafer, 'save that my\nfriend here, who (as is not unknown to thee) is of the merchants\nand hath visited all the great cities and countries of the world\nand foregathered with kings and men of worth, saith to me,\n\"Verily, that which our lord the Khalif hath done this night is\nbeyond measure extravagant, never saw I any do the like of his\nfashion in any country; for he hath rent four dresses, each worth\na thousand dinars, and this is surely excessive extravagance.\"'\n'O man,' replied the youth, 'the money is my money and the stuff\nmy stuff and this is by way of largesse to my servants and\nfollowers; for each suit that is rent belongeth to one of my\nboon-companions here present and I appoint him, in exchange\ntherefor, [if it so like him,] the sum of five hundred dinars.'\n'Well is that thou dost, O our lord!' answered Jaafer and recited\nthe following verses:\n\nThe virtues sure have built themselves a dwelling in thy palm;\n     Thou hast thy wealth to all mankind made common property.\nAn if the virtues' doors were shut on us one luckless day, Thy\n     hand unto their locks, indeed, were even as a key.\n\nWhen the young man heard these verses, he ordered Jaafer a\nthousand dinars and a dress of honour. Then the cup went round\namong them and the wine was pleasant to them; but, after awhile,\nthe Khalif said to Jaafer, 'Ask him of the marks on his ribs,\nthat we may see what he will say.' 'Softly, O my lord,' replied\nJaafer; 'be not hasty, for patience is more becoming.' 'By the\nlife of my head and by the tomb of El Abbas,'[FN#146] rejoined\nthe Khalif, 'except thou ask him, I will assuredly make an end of\nthee!' With this the young man turned towards Jaafer and said to\nhim, 'What ails thee and thy friend to be whispering together?\nTell me what is to do with you.' 'It is nothing,' replied\nJaafer; but the mock Khalif rejoined, 'I conjure thee, by Allah,\ntell me what ails you and hide from me nothing of your case.' 'O\nmy lord,' answered the Vizier, 'my companion here saw on thy\nsides the marks of beating with whips and rods and marvelled\nthereat exceedingly, saying, \"How came the Khalif to be beaten?\"\nAnd he would fain know the cause of this.' When the youth heard\nthis, he smiled and said, 'Know that my story is wonderful and my\ncase extraordinary; were it graven with needles on the corners of\nthe eye, it would serve as an admonition to him who can profit by\nadmonition.' And he sighed and repeated the following verses:\n\nStrange is my story and outdoes all marvels that can be. By Love\n     itself I swear, my ways are straitened upon me!\nAn ye would know my case, give ear and hearken to my tale And all\n     be dumb, on every side, in this our company.\nTake heed unto my speech, for lo! therein a warning is; Ay, and\n     my words no leasing are, but naked verity.\nI am a man of passion slain, the victim of desire, And she who\n     slew me fairer is than all the stars to see.\nA bright black eye she hath, whose glance is as an Indian sword,\n     And from her eyebrows' bended bows full many a shaft shoots\n     she.\nMy heart forebodes me that 'mongst you the Khalif of the age, Our\n     Imam[FN#147] is, of high descent and noble pedigree,\nAnd that the second of you he, that's known as Jaafer, is, His\n     vizier and a vizier's son, a lord of high degree.\nYea, and the third of you Mesrour the eunuch is, I ween, The\n     swordsman of his vengeance. So, if true my saying be,\nI have of this my case attained to all for which I hoped And\n     hearts' content from every side is come, indeed, to me.\n\nWhen they heard this, Jaafer swore to him a dissembling oath that\nthey were not those he named; whereupon he laughed and said,\n'Know, O my lords, that I am not the Commander of the Faithful\nand that I do but style myself thus, to get my will of the people\nof the city. My real name is Mohammed Ali son of Ali the Jeweller\nand my father was one of the chief men [of the city]. When he\ndied, he left me great store of gold and silver and pearls and\ncoral and rubies and chrysolites and other jewels, besides houses\nand lands and baths and gardens and orchards and shops and\nbrickfields and slaves, male and female. One day, as I sat in my\nshop, surrounded by my slaves and servants, there came up a young\nlady, riding on a mule and attended by three damsels like moons.\nShe alighted at my shop and seating herself by me, said to me,\n\"Art thou Mohammed the jeweller?\" \"Yes,\" answered I, \"I am he, at\nthy service.\" \"Hast thou a necklace of jewels fit for me?\" asked\nshe, and I replied, \"O my lady, I will show thee what I have; and\nif any please thee, it will be of thy slave's good luck; if not,\nof his ill-fortune.\" I had by me a hundred necklaces and showed\nthem all to her; but none of them pleased her and she said, \"I\nwant a better than those I have seen.\" Now I had a small\nnecklace, that my father had bought for a hundred thousand dinars\nand the like whereof was not to be found with any of the great\nkings; so I said to her, \"O my lady, I have yet one necklace of\nfine stones, whose like none possesseth, great or small.\" \"Show\nit me,\" said she. So I showed it her and she said, \"This is what\nI sought and what I have wished for all my life. What is its\nprice?\" Quoth I, \"It cost my father a hundred thousand dinars;\"\nand she said, \"I will give thee five thousand dinars to thy\nprofit.\" \"O my lady,\" answered I, \"the necklace and its owner are\nat thy service and I cannot gainsay thee [in aught].\" \"Not so,\"\nrejoined she; \"needs must thou have the profit, and I am still\nmuch beholden to thee.\" Then she rose and mounting the mule in\nhaste, said to me, \"O my lord, in God's name, favour us with thy\ncompany, to receive the money; for this thy day is a milk-white\nday[FN#148] with us.\" So I shut the shop and accompanied her, in\nall security, till we came to a house, on which were manifest the\nsigns of fortune. Its door was wrought with gold and silver and\nlapis lazuli, and thereon were written these verses:\n\n\nNay mourning never enter thee, I pray, O house, nor fortune e'er\n     thy lord bewray!\nA goodly sojourn art thou to the guest, When strait on him is\n     every place and way.\n\nShe dismounted and entered the house, bidding me sit down on the\nstone bench at the door, till the money-changer should come. So I\nsat awhile, till presently a damsel came out to me and said, \"Q\nmy lord, enter the vestibule; for it is not seemly that thou\nshouldst sit at the door.\" Accordingly, I entered the vestibule\nand sat down on the settle there. As I sat, another damsel came\nout and said to me, \"O my lord, my mistress bids thee enter and\nsit down at the door of the saloon, to receive thy money.\" So I\nentered and sat down, nor had I sat a moment, before a curtain of\nsilk was drawn aside and I saw the lady seated on a throne of\ngold, with the necklace about her neck, unveiled and showing a\nface as it were the round of the moon. At this sight, my wit was\ntroubled and my mind confounded, by reason of her exceeding\nbeauty and grace; but, when she saw me, she rose and coming up to\nme, said, \"O light of mine eyes, is every handsome one like thee\npitiless to his mistress?\" \"O my lady,\" answered I, \"beauty, all\nof it, is in thee and is one of thine attributes.\" \"O jeweller,\"\nrejoined she, \"know that I love thee and can hardly credit that I\nhave brought thee hither.\" Then she bent to me and I kissed her,\nand she kissed me, and drawing me towards her, pressed me to her\nbosom. She knew by my case that I had a mind to enjoy her; so she\nsaid to me, \"O my lord, dost thou think to foregather with me\nunlawfully? By Allah, may he not live who would do the like of\nthis sin and who takes pleasure in foul talk! I am a clean\nvirgin, whom no man hath approached, nor am I unknown in the\ncity. Knowest thou who I am?\" \"No, by Allah, O my lady!\" replied\nI. Quoth she, \"I am the lady Dunya, daughter of Yehya ben Khalid\nthe Barmecide and sister of Jaafer, the Khalif's Vizier.\" When I\nheard this, I drew back from her, saying, \"O my lady, it is no\nfault of mine if I have been over-bold with thee; it was thou\ndidst encourage me to aspire to thy love, by giving me access to\nthee.\" \"No harm shall befall thee,\" answered she; \"and needs must\nthou attain thy desire in the way that is pleasing to God. I am\nmy own mistress and the Cadi shall act as my guardian, in\nconsenting to the marriage-contract; for it is my will that I be\nthy wife and thou my husband.\" Then she sent for the Cadi and the\nwitnesses and busied herself with the necessary preparations.\nWhen they came, she said to them, \"Mohammed Ali ben Ali the\njeweller seeks me in marriage and hath given me the necklace to\nmy dowry; and I accept and consent.\" So they drew up the contract\nof marriage between us; after which the servants brought the\nwine-service and the cups passed round, after the goodliest\nordinance: and when the wine mounted to our heads, she ordered a\ndamsel, a lute-player, to sing. So she took the lute and sang\nthereto the following verses:\n\nHe comes and shows me, all in one, fawn, moon and sapling slight:\n     Foul fall the heart for thought of him that watches not the\n     night!\nA fair one, Allah had a mind t' extinguish from his cheek One\n     ravishment, and straight, instead, another sprang to light.\nWhenas my censors speak of him, I cavil at their word, Feigning\n     as if I did mislike the mention of the wight;\nYea, and I hearken, when they speak of other than of him, Though\n     for the thought of him, nathelesse, I am consumed outright.\nProphet of beauty, all in him 's a very miracle Of grace, and\n     greatest of them all his face's splendid sight.\nThe sable mole upon his cheek hath taken up its stead, Against\n     the troubles of this life to ward his forehead bright.\nThe censors, of their ignorance, bid me forget; but I From true-\n     believer cannot turn an infidel forthright.\n\nWe were ravished by the sweet music she made and the beauty of\nthe verses she sang and the other damsels went on to sing, one\nafter another, till ten had done so; when the lady Dunya took the\nlute and playing a lively measure, sang these verses:\n\nBy the softness of thy graceful-gaited shape I swear, For\n     estrangement from thy presence the pangs of hell I bear.\nHave pity on a heart that burns i' the hell-fire of thy love, O\n     full moon in the darkness of the night that shinest fair!\nVouchsafe to me thy favours, and by the wine-cup's light To\n     blazon forth thy beauties, henceforth, I'll never spare.\nA rose hath ta'en me captive, whose colours varied are, Whose\n     charms outvie the myrtle and make its thorns despair.\n\nWhen she had finished, I took the lute and playing a quaint\nprelude, sang the following verses:\n\nGlory to Him who gave thee all beauty in earth and skies So I'm\n     become of thy bondsmen for ever and thy prize.\nThou that art gifted with glances that make mankind thy slaves,\n     Pray we may come off scathless from the sorcery of thine\n     eyes.\nTwo opposites, fire, incarnate in shining splendour of flame, And\n     water, thy cheek uniteth, conjoined in wondrous wise.\nHow dulcet and yet how bitter thou art to my heart, alack! To\n     which thou at once and ever art Hell and Paradise!\n\nWhen she heard this, she rejoiced with an exceeding joy; then,\ndismissing her women, she brought me to a most goodly place,\nwhere they had spread us a bed of various colours. She did off\nher clothes and I had a lover's privacy of her and found her an\nunpierced pearl and a filly no man had ridden. So I rejoiced in\nher and repeated the following verses:\n\nStay with us, Night, I prithee! I want no morning white; The face\n     of my beloved sufficeth me for light.\nI gave my love, for chin-band, my palm spread open wide And eke\n     for ringdove's collar, my arms about him dight.\nThis is indeed th' attainment of fortune's topmost height! We\n     clip and clip and care not to stir from our delight.\n\n\nNever in my life knew I a more delightful night than this, and I\nabode with her a whole month, forsaking shop and home and family,\ntill one day she said to me, \"O light of my eyes, O my lord\nMohammed, I have a mind to go to the bath to-day; so sit thou on\nthis couch and budge not from thy place, till I return to thee.\"\n\"I hear and obey,\" answered I, and she made me swear to this;\nafter which she took her women and went off to the bath. But, by\nAllah, O my brothers, she had not reached the end of the street,\nwhen the door opened and in came an old woman, who said to me, \"O\nmy lord Mohammed, the lady Zubeideh bids thee to her, for she\nhath heard of thine elegance and accomplishments and skill in\nsinging.\" \"By Allah,\" answered I, \"I will not rise from my place,\ntill the lady Dunya come back.\" \"O my lord,\" rejoined the old\nwoman, \"do not anger the lady Zubeideh with thee and make an\nenemy of her. Come, speak with her and return to thy place.\" So I\nrose and followed her into the presence of the princess, who said\nto me, \"O light of the eye, art thou the lady Dunya's beloved?\"\n\"At thy service,\" answered I. Quoth she, \"He spoke sooth who\nreported thee possessed of grace and beauty and good breeding and\nall good qualities; indeed, thou surpassest report; but now sing\nto me, that I may hear thee.\" \"I hear and obey,\" answered I. So\nshe brought me a lute, and I sang the following verses:\n\nThe heart of the lover is weary with loving and striving in vain,\n     And even as a spoil is his body in the hands of sickness and\n     pain.\nWho should there be, 'mongst the riders on camels with haltered\n     head, Save a lover whose dear-beloved the camel-litters\n     contain!\nA moon, in your tents that rises, to Allah I commend, One my\n     heart loves and tenders, shut in from the sight of her\n     swain.\nAnon she is kind, anon angry: how goodly her coquetry is! For all\n     that is done of a loved one must needs to her lover be fain.\n\nWhen I had finished, she said to me, \"God assain thy body and\nsweeten thy voice! Verily, thou art perfect in beauty and good\nbreeding and singing. But now rise and return to thy place, ere\nthe lady Dunya come back, lest she find thee not and be wroth\nwith thee.\" So I kissed the earth before her and the old woman\nforewent me to the door whence I came. I entered and going up to\nthe couch, found that my wife had come back and was lying asleep\nthere. So I sat down at her feet and rubbed them; whereupon she\nopened her eyes and seeing me, drew up her feet and gave me a\nkick that threw me off the couch, saying, \"O traitor, thou hast\nbeen false to thine oath and hast perjured thyself. Thou sworest\nto me that thou wouldst not stir from thy place; yet didst thou\nbreak thy promise and go to the lady Zubeideh. By Allah, but that\nI fear scandal, I would pull down the palace over her head!\" Then\nsaid she to her black slave, \"Harkye, Sewab, arise and strike off\nthis lying traitor's head, for we have no further need of him.\"\nSo the slave came up to me and tearing a strip from his skirt,\nbound my eyes with it and would have cut off my head; but all her\nwomen, great and small, came up to her and said to her, \"O our\nlady, this is not the first who hath erred: indeed, he knew not\nthy humour and hath done nothing deserving of death.\" \"By Allah,\"\nreplied she, \"I must needs set my mark on him.\" And she bade beat\nme; so they beat me on my sides, and the marks ye saw are the\nscars of that beating. Then she bade them put me out, and they\ncarried me to a distance from the house and cast me down. I rose\nand dragged myself little by little to my own house, where I sent\nfor a surgeon, who dressed my wounds and comforted me. As soon as\nI was recovered and my pains and sickness had left me, I went to\nthe bath and thence betaking myself to my shop, sold all that was\ntherein. With the proceeds, I bought four hundred white slaves,\nsuch as no king ever got together, and caused two hundred of them\nride out with me every day. Then I made me yonder barge, on which\nI spent five thousand dinars, and styled myself Khalif and\nappointed each of my servants to the charge and clad him in the\nhabit of some one of the Khalif's officers. Moreover, I let cry\nabroad, \"Whoso goeth a-pleasuring on the Tigris [by night], I\nwill strike off his head without mercy;\" and on this wise have I\ndone this whole year past, during which time I have heard no news\nof the lady neither happened upon any trace of her.' And he wept\ncopiously and repeated the following verses:\n\nBy Allah, I will never all my life long forget her, my dear; And\n     those only will I tender, who shall bring her to me to draw\n     near.\nNow glory to her Maker and Creator be given evermore! As the full\n     moon in the heavens, in her aspect and her gait she doth\n     appear.\nShe, indeed, hath made me weariful and wakeful, full of sorrow,\n     sick for love; Yea, my heart is all confounded at her\n     beauty, dazed for trouble and for fear.\n\nWhen Er Reshid heard the young man's story and knew the passion\nand transport and love-longing that afflicted him, he was moved\nto compassion and wonder and said, 'Glory be to God who hath\nappointed to every thing a cause!' Than they craved the young\nman's leave to depart; which being granted, they took leave of\nhim, the Khalif purposing to do him justice and entreat him with\nthe utmost munificence, and returned to the palace of the\nKhalifate, where they changed their clothes for others befitting\ntheir station and sat down, whilst Mesrour stood before them.\nAfter awhile, the Khalif said to Jaafer, 'O Vizier, bring me the\nyoung man with whom we were last night.' 'I hear and obey,'\nanswered Jaafer, and going to the youth, saluted him, saying,\n'The Commander of the Faithful calls for thee.' So he returned\nwith him to the palace, in great concern by reason of the\nsummons, and going in to the Khalif, kissed the earth before him.\nThen said he, 'Peace be on thee, O Commander of the Faithful\nand Protector of the people of the Faith!' And offered up a\nprayer for the endurance of his glory and prosperity, for the\naccomplishment of his desires and the continuance of his bounty\nand the cessation of evil and punishment, ordering his speech as\nbest he might and ending by repeating the following verses:\n\n\nStill may thy threshold as a place of adoration[FN#149] Be sought\n     and on men's brows its dust bespeak prostration,\nThat so in every land be made this proclamation, \"Thou, thou art\n     Abraham and this his very station.\"[FN#150]\n\nThe Khalif smiled in his face and returned his salute, looking on\nhim with the eye of favour. Then he bade him draw near and sit\ndown before him and said to him, 'O Mohammed Ali, I wish thee to\ntell me what befell thee last night, for it was rare and passing\nstrange.' 'Pardon, O Commander of the Faithful!' replied the\nyouth. 'Give me the handkerchief of immunity, that my trouble may\nbe appeased and my heart set at rest.' Quoth the Khalif, 'Thou\nart safe from fear and trouble.' So the young man told him his\nstory from first to last, whereby the Khalif knew him to be a\nlover and severed from his beloved and said to him, 'Wilt thou\nthat I restore her to thee?' 'This were of the bounty of the\nCommander of the Faithful,' answered the youth and repeated the\nfollowing verses:\n\nKiss thou his finger-tips, for no mere fingers they, But keys to\n     all the goods by God to men assigned;\nAnd praise his deeds no less, for no mere deeds are they, But\n     jewels to adorn the necks of humankind.\n\nThereupon the Khalif turned to Jaafer and said to him, 'Bring me\nthy sister the lady Dunya.' 'I hear and obey,' answered he and\nfetched her forthright. When she stood before the Khalif, he said\nto her, 'Dost thou know who this is?' 'O Commander of the\nFaithful,' answered she, 'how should women have knowledge of\nmen?' The Khalif smiled and said, 'O Dunya, this is thy beloved,\nMohammed ben Ali the jeweller. We are acquainted with his case,\nfor we have heard the whole story, from beginning to end, and\napprehended its inward and its outward; and it is no more hidden,\nfor all it was kept secret.' 'O Commander of the Faithful,'\nrejoined she, 'this was written in the book of destiny. I crave\nthe forgiveness of the Most High God for that which I have done\nand beseech thee to pardon me of thy favour.' At this the Khalif\nlaughed and summoning the Cadi and the witnesses, renewed the\nmarriage-contract between Dunya and her husband, whereby there\nbetided them the utmost of felicity and those who envied them\nwere mortified. Moreover, he made Mohammed Ali one of his boon-\ncompanions, and they abode in joy and cheer and gladness, till\nthere came to them the Destroyer of Delights and the Sunderer of\nCompanies.\n\n\n\n\n          ALI THE PERSIAN'S STORY OF THE KURD SHARPER\n\n\n\n\nThe Khalif Haroun er Reshid, being more than commonly restless\none night, sent for his Vizier and said to him, 'O Jaafer, I am\nsore wakeful and heavy at heart to-night, and I desire of thee\nwhat may cheer my spirit and ease me of my oppression.' 'O\nCommander of the Faithful,' answered Jaafer, 'I have a friend, by\nname Ali the Persian, who hath store of tales and pleasant\nstories, such as lighten the heart and do away care.' 'Fetch him\nto me,' said the Khalif. 'I hear and obey,' replied Jaafer and\ngoing out from before him, sent for Ali the Persian and said to\nhim, 'The Commander of the Faithful calls for thee.' 'I hear and\nobey,' answered Ali and followed the Vizier into the presence of\nthe Khalif, who bade him be seated and said to him, 'O Ali, my\nheart is heavy within me this night and I hear that thou hast\ngreat store of tales and anecdotes; so I desire of thee that thou\nlet me hear what will relieve my oppression and gladden my\nmelancholy.' 'O Commander of the Faithful,' said he, 'shall I\ntell thee what I have seen with my eyes or what I have heard with\nmy ears?' 'An thou have seen aught [worth telling],' replied the\nKhalif, 'let me hear that.' 'Know then, O Commander of the\nFaithful,' said Ali, 'that some years ago I left this my native\ncity of Baghdad on a journey, having with me a boy who carried a\nlight wallet. Presently, we came to a certain city, where, as I\nwas buying and selling, a rascally thief of a Kurd fell on me and\nseized my wallet, saying, \"This is my bag, and all that is in it\nis my property.\" Thereupon, \"Ho, Muslims all,\" cried I, \"deliver\nme from the hand of the vilest of oppressors!\" But they all said,\n\"Come, both of you, to the Cadi and submit yourselves to his\njudgement.\" I agreed to this and we both presented ourselves\nbefore the Cadi, who said, \"What brings you hither and what is\nyour case?\" Quoth I, \"We are men at difference, who appeal to\nthee and submit ourselves to thy judgement.\" \"Which of you is the\ncomplainant?\" asked the Cadi. So the Kurd came forward and said,\n\"God preserve our lord the Cadi! Verily, this bag is my bag and\nall that is in it is my property. It was lost from me and I found\nit with this man.\" \"When didst thou lose it?\" asked the Cadi.\n\"But yesterday,\" replied the Kurd; \"and I passed a sleepless\nnight by reason of its loss.\" \"If it be thy bag,\" said the Cadi,\n\"tell me what is in it.\" Quoth the Kurd, \"There were in my bag\ntwo silver styles and eye-powders and a handkerchief, and I had\nlaid therein two gilt cups and two candlesticks. Moreover it\ncontained two tents and two platters and two hooks and a cushion\nand two leather rugs and two ewers and a brass tray and two\nbasins and a cooking-pot and two water-jars and a ladle and a\nsacking-needle and a she-cat and two bitches[FN#151] and a wooden\ntrencher and two sacks and two saddles and a gown and two fur\npelisses and a cow and two calves and a she-goat and two sheep\nand an ewe and two lambs and two green pavilions and a camel and\ntwo she-camels and a she-buffalo and two bulls and a lioness and\ntwo lions and a she-bear and two foxes and a mattress and two\ncouches and an upper chamber and two saloons and a portico and\ntwo ante-rooms and a kitchen with two doors and a company of\nKurds who will testify that the bag is mine.\" Then said the\nCadi to me, \"And thou, what sayst thou?\" So I came forward, O\nCommander of the Faithful (and indeed the Kurd's speech had\nbewildered me) and said, \"God advance our lord the Cadi! There\nwas nothing in this my wallet, save a little ruined house and\nanother without a door and a dog-kennel and a boys' school and\nyouths playing dice and tents and tent-poles and the cities of\nBassora and Baghdad and the palace of Sheddad ben Aad[FN#152] and\na smith's forge and a fishing net and cudgels and pickets and\ngirls and boys and a thousand pimps, who will testify that the\nbag is my bag.\" When the Kurd heard my words, he wept and wailed\nand said, \"O my lord the Cadi, my bag is known and what is in it\nis renowned; therein are castles and citadels and cranes and\nbeasts of prey and men playing chess and draughts. Moreover, in\nthis my bag is a brood-mare and two colts and a stallion and two\nblood-horses and two long lances and a lion and two hares and a\ncity and two villages and a courtezan and two sharking pimps and\na catamite and two gallows-birds and a blind man and two dogs and\na cripple and two lameters and a priest and two deacons and a\npatriarch and two monks and a Cadi and two assessors, who will\ntestify that the bag is my bag.\" Quoth the Cadi to me, \"And what\nsayst thou, O Ali?\" So, O Commander of the Faithful, being filled\nwith rage, I came forward and said, \"God keep our lord the Cadi!\nI had in this my wallet a coat of mail and a broadsword and\narmouries and a thousand fighting rams and a sheep-fold and a\nthousand barking dogs and gardens and vines and flowers and sweet\nherbs and figs and apples and pictures and statues and flagons\nand goblets and fair-faced slave-girls and singing-women and\nmarriage-feasts and tumult and clamour and great tracts of land\nand brothers of success[FN#153] and a company of daybreak-riders,\nwith swords and spears and bows and arrows, and true friends and\ndear ones and intimates and comrades and men imprisoned for\npunishment and cup-companions and a drum and flutes and flags and\nbanners and boys and girls and brides, in all their wedding\nbravery, and singing-girls and five Abyssinian women and three\nHindi and four women of Medina and a score of Greek girls and\nhalf a hundred Turkish and threescore and ten Persian girls and\nfourscore Kurd and fourscore and ten Georgian women and Tigris\nand Euphrates and a fowling net and a flint and steel and Many-\nColumned Irem[FN#154] and a thousand rogues and pimps and horse-\ncourses and stables and mosques and baths and a builder and a\ncarpenter and a plank and a nail and a black slave, with a pair\nof recorders, and a captain and a caravan-leader and towns and\ncities and a hundred thousand dinars and Cufa and Ambar[FN#155]\nand twenty chests full of stuffs and twenty store-houses for\nvictual and Gaza and Askalon and from Damietta to Essouan and the\npalace of Kisra Anoushirwan[FN#156] and the kingdom of Solomon\nand from Wadi Numan[FN#157] to the land of Khorassan and Balkh\nand Ispahan and from India to the Soudan. Therein also (may God\nprolong the life of our lord the Cadi!) are doublets and cloths\nand a thousand sharp razors to shave the Cadi's chin, except he\nfear my resentment and adjudge the bag to be mine.\"\n\nWhen the Cadi heard what I and the Kurd avouched, he was\nconfounded and said, \"I see ye are none other than two pestilent\natheistical fellows, who make sport of Cadis and magistrates and\nstand not in fear of reproach. Never did any tell or hear tell of\naught more extraordinary than that which ye pretend. By Allah,\nfrom China to Shejreh umm Ghailan[FN#158] nor from Fars to the\nSoudan, nor from Wadi Numan to Khorassan, ever was heard or\ncredited the like of what ye avouch! Is this bag a bottomless sea\nor the Day of Resurrection, that shall gather together the just\nand unjust?\" Then he bade open the bag; so I opened it and\nbehold, there was in it bread and a lemon and cheese and olives.\nSo I threw it down before the Kurd and went away.'\n\nWhen the Khalif heard Ali's story, he laughed till he fell\nbackward and made him a handsome present.\n\n\n\n\nEnd of Vol. III.\n\n\n\n\n                       Notes to Volume 3\n\n\n\n[FN#1] It need hardly be remarked that Eastern stirrups are made\nso to do duty as spurs.\n\n[FN#2] i.e. The Seven Sleepers.\n\n[FN#3] i.e. The birds of prey.\n\n[FN#4] \"O thou of the little stronghold.\"  A sobriquet popularly\nbestowed on the fox, even as we call him \"Reynard.\"\n\n[FN#5] These verses are full of plays upon words, which it is\nimpossible to render in a translation.\n\n[FN#6] i.e. blood, like wine in colour.\n\n[FN#7] The face.\n\n[FN#8] The teeth.\n\n[FN#9] The wine-cup.\n\n[FN#10] Alluding to the Eastern practice of dying the hands with\nhenna in concentric bands.\n\n[FN#11] The lips, likened to the plum of the jujube-tree.\n\n[FN#12] The teeth.\n\n[FN#13] A well-known metaphor for the brilliant whiteness of the\nface shining through the black hair.\n\n[FN#14] The lips.\n\n[FN#15] The teeth.\n\n[FN#16] Mejnoun, the well-known lover of Eastern romance.\n\n[FN#17] These verses apparently relate to Aboulhusn, but it is\npossible that they may be meant to refer to Shemsennehar, as the\nmasculine is constantly used for the feminine in Oriental love-\npoetry.\n\n[FN#18] As that of a martyr. See Vol. II. p. 25, note 2. {Vol. 2,\nFN#15}\n\n[FN#19] Two fallen angels appointed to tempt men by teaching them\nthe art of magic.\n\n[FN#20] An idol or idols of the Arabs before Mohammed.\n\n[FN#21] The browlocks, from their shape, are commonly likened by\nEastern poets to scorpions.\n\n[FN#22] Three stars so called in the Great Bear.\n\n[FN#23] or recite.\n\n[FN#24] There are three orders of Jinn: the upper or inhabitants\nof the air, the lower or inhabitants of the earth and the divers\nor inhabitants of the waters.\n\n[FN#25] Lit. lean and fat.\n\n[FN#26] Syn. eye (nazir).\n\n[FN#27] Syn. eyebrow (hajib).\n\n[FN#28] A play upon words turning upon the literal meaning\n(\"auspicious full moons\") of the two names of women Budour and\nSuad.\n\n[FN#29] Ring-mail.\n\n[FN#30] i.e. Orvietan or Venice treacle, the well-known universal\nremedy of the middle ages, alluded to by Chaucer in the words,\n\"And Christ that is unto all ills triacle.\"\n\n[FN#31] Names of women.\n\n[FN#32] Women's name.\n\n[FN#33] Women's name.\n\n[FN#34] i.e. a woman.\n\n[FN#35] Women's names.\n\n[FN#36] Wine.\n\n[FN#37]  i.e. by way of ornament.\n\n[FN#38] The well-known semi-legendary sage and fabulist.\n\n[FN#39] Playing upon his own name, Kemerezzeman, which means,\n\"Moon of the time or of fortune.\"  Budour means \"Full moons.\"\n\n[FN#40] Siwaka, a toothstick, (acc.) means also \"other than\nthee.\"\n\n[FN#41] Araka, a capparis-tree, (acc.) means also, \"I see thee.\"\nToothsticks are made of\nthe wood of this tree.\n\n[FN#42] A treasury of money is a thousand purses or about \u00a35,000.\n\n[FN#43] This expression is of course metaphorical.  Cf. Solomon's\nSong passim.\n\n[FN#44] i.e. gum tragacanth.\n\n[FN#45] See post p. 317. {see Vol. 3. Maan Ben Zaideh and the\nThree Girls, FN#121.}\n\n[FN#46] The mansuetude of the Khalif Muawiyeh, the founder of the\nOmmiade dynasty, is a proverb among the Arabs, though hardly to\nbe reconciled with the accredited records of his life and\nactions.\n\n[FN#47] Alluding, for the sake of metaphor, to the months of\npurification which, according to the Muslim ceremonial law, must\nbe accomplished by a divorced woman, before she can marry again.\n\n[FN#48] A divorce three times pronounced cannot be revoked.\n\n[FN#49] Fabulous peoples mentioned in the Koran.\n\n[FN#50] Said to be so called, because they attract sparrows\n(asafir), but it seems to me more probable that the name denotes\nthe colour of the fruit and is derived from usfur, safflower.\n\n[FN#51] Koran,  xxxiii. 38.\n\n[FN#52] Met. anus.\n\n[FN#53] Met. cunnus.\n\n[FN#54] Kibleh, the point of the compass to which one turns in\nprayer.  Mecca is the Kibleh of the Muslims, even as Jerusalem\nthat of the Jews and Christians.  The meaning of the text is\nobvious.\n\n[FN#55] i.e. of God.--Koran, li. 9.\n\n[FN#56] The word (futouh) translated \"openings\" may also be\nrendered \"victories\" or \"benefits.\"\n\n[FN#57] Cf. Aristophanes, Lysistrata and Ecclesiazus\u00e6 passim.\n\n[FN#58] An audacious parody of the Koran, applied ironically,\n\"And the pious work God shall raise up.\"--Koran, xxxv. 11.\n\n[FN#59] Lit. The chapter of clearing (oneself from belief in any\nbut God), or Unity, Koran, cxii.  It ends with the words, \"There\nis none like unto Him.\"\n\n[FN#60] i.e. but for the soul that animated them.\n\n[FN#61] The word \"nights\" (more commonly \"days,\" sometimes also\n\"days and nights,\" as in the verses immediately following) is\nconstantly used in the sense of \"fortune\" or \"fate\" by the poets\nof the East.\n\n[FN#62] Abdallah ibn ez Zubeir revolted (A.D. 680) against Yezid\n(second Khalif of the Ommiade dynasty) and was proclaimed Khalif\nat Mecca, where he maintained himself till A.D. 692, when he was\nkilled in the siege of that town by the famous Hejjaj, general of\nAbdulmelik,  the fifth Ommiade Khalif.\n\n[FN#63] The allusion here appears to be to the burning of part of\nMecca, including the Temple and Kaabeh, during the (unsuccessful)\nsiege by Hussein, A.D. 683.\n\n[FN#64] Three Muslim sectaries (Kharejites), considering the\nKhalif Ali (Mohammed's son-in-law), Muawiyeh (founder of the\nOmmiade dynasty) and Amr (or Amrou), the conqueror of Egypt, as\nthe chief authors of the intestine discords which then (A.D. 661\n) ravaged Islam, conspired to assassinate them; but only\nsucceeded in killing Ali, Muawiyeh escaping with a wound and the\nfanatic charged with the murder of Amr slaying Kharijeh, the\nchief of the police at Cairo, by mistake, in his stead.  The\nabove verses are part of a famous but very obscure elegy on the\ndownfall of one of the Muslim dynasties in Spain, composed in the\ntwelfth century by Ibn Abdoun el Andalousi, one of the most\ncelebrated of the Spanish Arabic poets.\n\n[FN#65] i.e. fortune.  The word dunya (world) is constantly used\nin poetry to signify \"fortune\" or \"the fortune of this world.\"\n\n[FN#66] This line is a characteristic example of the antithetical\nconceits so common in Oriental poetry.  The meaning is, \"My grief\nmakes all I behold seem black to me, whilst my tears have washed\nout all the colour from my eyes.\"\n\n[FN#67] i.e. the tomb.\n\n[FN#68] The wood of which makes a peculiarly fierce and lasting\nfire.\n\n[FN#69] Koran iv. 38.\n\n[FN#70] Most happy.\n\n[FN#71] Wretched.\n\n[FN#72] Most happy.\n\n[FN#73] The gift of God. The h in Nimeh becomes t before a vowel.\n\n[FN#74] i.e. happiness.\n\n[FN#75] Num is synonymous with Saad.  The purpose of the change\nof name was to make the little one's name correspond with that of\nNimeh, which is derived from the same root.\n\n[FN#76] i.e. to any one, as we should say, \"to Tom, Dick or\nHarry.\"\n\n[FN#77] i.e. to any one, as we should say, \"to Tom, Dick or\nHarry.\"\n\n[FN#78] El Hejjaj ben Yousuf eth Thekefi, a famous statesman and\nsoldier of the seventh and eighth centuries.  He was governor of\nChald\u00e6a under the fifth and sixth Ommiade Khalifs and was\nrenowned for his cruelty; but appears nevertheless to have been a\nprudent and capable administrator, who probably used no more\nrigour than was necessary to restrain the proverbially turbulent\npopulations of Bassora and Cufa.  Most of the anecdotes of his\nbrutality and tyranny, some of which will be found in this\ncollection, are, in all probability, apocryphal.\n\n[FN#79] Wool is the distinctive wear of Oriental devotees.\n\n[FN#80] Koran xxv. 70.\n\n[FN#81] Of the Koran.\n\n[FN#82] This verse contains a series of jeux-de-mots, founded\nupon the collocation of the three proper names, Num, Suada and\nJuml, with the third person feminine singular, preterite-present,\nfourth conjugation, of their respective verb-roots, i.e. idka\nanamet Num, if Num vouchsafe, etc., etc.\n\n[FN#83] Nimeh.\n\n[FN#84] \"And he (Jacob) turned from them, saying, 'Woe is me for\nJoseph!'  And his eyes grew white for grief ...  (Quoth Joseph to\nhis brethren)  'Take this my shirt and throw it over my father's\nface and he will recover his sight' ...  So, when the messenger\nof glad tidings came (to Jacob), he threw it (the shirt) over his\nface and he was restored to sight.\"--Koran xii. 84, 93, 96.\n\n[FN#85] Hemzeh and Abbas were uncles of Mohammed.  The Akil here\nalluded to is apparently a son of the Khalif Ali, who deserted\nhis father and joined the usurper Muawiyeh, the founder of the\nOmmiade dynasty.\n\n[FN#86] One of the numerous quack aphrodisiacs current in the\nmiddle ages, as with us cock's cullions and other grotesque\nprescriptions.\n\n[FN#87] To conjure the evil eye.\n\n[FN#88] i.e. him of the moles.\n\n[FN#89] Alluding to the redness of his cheeks, as if they had\nbeen flushed with wine. The passage may be construed, \"As he were\na white slave, with cheeks reddened by wine.\" The Turkish and\nother white slaves were celebrated for their beauty.\n\n[FN#90] As a protection against the evil eye. We may perhaps,\nhowever, read, \"Ask pardon of God!\", i.e. for your unjust\nreproach.\n\n[FN#91] See note, post, p. 299. {see Vol. 3, FN#114}\n\n[FN#92] i.e. of the caravan.\n\n[FN#93] A famous Muslim saint of the twelfth century and founder\nof the four great orders of dervishes. He is buried at Baghdad.\n\n[FN#94] Koran xiii. 14.\n\n[FN#95] Another well-known saint.\n\n[FN#96] i.e. He engaged to do somewhat, undertaking upon oath in\ncase of default to divorce his wife by pronouncing the triple\nformula of divorcement, and she therefore became divorced, by\noperation of law, on his failure to keep his engagement.\n\n[FN#97] The 36th chapter of the Koran.\n\n[FN#98] or \"herself.\"\n\n[FN#99] or \"myself.\"\n\n[FN#100] This passage is full of double-entendres, the meaning of\nmost of which is obvious, but others are so obscure and\nfarfetched as to defy explanation.\n\n[FN#101] The raven is the symbol of separation.\n\n[FN#102] One of the names of God (Breslau. The two other editions\nhave it, \"O David!\"). It is the custom of the Arabs, as will\nappear in others of these tales, to represent inarticulate music\n(such as that of birds and instruments) as celebrating the\npraises of God.\n\n[FN#103] lit. a fan.\n\n[FN#104] One of the most celebrated, as well as the most witty\nand licentious, of Arab poets. He was one of Haroun er Reshid's\nboon-companions and died early in the ninth century.\n\n[FN#105] See note, p. 274.{see Vol. 3, FN#102}\n\n[FN#106] The above appears to be the meaning of this somewhat\nobscure passage; but we may perhaps translate it as follows: \"May\nGod preserve (us) from the mischief of he Commander of the\nFaithful!\" \"O Vizier,\" answered the Khalif, \"the mischief is\npassing great.\"\n\n[FN#107] Meaning that the robbery must have been committed by\nsome inmate of the palace.\n\n[FN#108] Amir. Thus the Breslau edition; the two others give\nAmin, i.e. one who is trusted or in a position of trust.\n\n[FN#109] According to Mohammedan tradition, it was Ishmael, not\nIsaac, whom Abraham was commanded to sacrifice.\n\n[FN#110] Apparently a sort of blackmail levied upon merchants and\nothers by the soldiers who protected them against the Bedouins.\n\n[FN#111] A village on the Gulf of Scanderoon.\n\n[FN#112] Or perhaps dinars, the coin not being specified.\n\n[FN#113] Or sectary of Ali. The Shiyaites did not acknowledge the\nfirst three Khalifs Abou Bekr, Omar, and Othman, and were wont to\nwrite their names upon their heels, in token of contempt. The\nSunnites are the orthodox Muslims, who accept the actual order of\nthings.\n\n[FN#114] An open-fronted reception-room, generally on the first\nfloor and giving on the interior court of the house.\n\n[FN#115] Instead of \"rank of Amir,\" we should perhaps read\n\"knighthood.\"\n\n[FN#116] i.e. It is not enough. See Vol. II, p. 74, note. {see\nVol. 2, FN#29}\n\n[FN#117] Confessional?\n\n[FN#118] \u00a3500.\n\n[FN#119] The Mohammedans accuse the Jews, as well as the\nChristians, of falsifying their sacred books, so as to suppress\nthe mention of Mohammed.\n\n[FN#120] A very famous Arab chieftain of the latter part of the\nsixth century, especially renowned for the extravagance with\nwhich he practiced the patriarchal virtues of generosity and\nhospitality. He died a few years after Mohammed's birth.\n\n[FN#121] Another famous Oriental type of generosity. He was a\ncelebrated soldier and statesman of the eighth century and stood\nin high favour with the Ommiade Khalifs, as also (after the\nchange of dynasty) with those of the house of Abbas.\n\n[FN#122] Apparently meaning the upper part of the carpet whereon\nthe Amir's chair was set. It is the place of honour and has a\npeculiar sanctity among the Arabs, it being a breach of good\nmanners to tread upon it (or indeed upon any part of the carpet)\nwith shodden feet.\n\n[FN#123] Apparently Toledo.\n\n[FN#124] Sixth Khalif of the Ommiade dynasty, A.D. 705-716.\n\n[FN#125] Or perhaps \"of that which is due to men of worth.\"\n\n[FN#126] It is the invariable custom (and indeed the duty) of\nevery Muslim to salute his co-religionist with the words \"Peace\nbe on thee!\" upon first accosting him.\n\n[FN#127] He having then returned to his palace.\n\n[FN#128] i.e. of life.\n\n[FN#129] Lit. to dispute about or defend itself, Koran xvi 112.\n\n[FN#130] The Rages of the Apocrypha; a great city of Persia,\nformerly its capital, but now a mere heap of ruins in the\nneighbourhood of Teheran.\n\n[FN#131] Ibrahim ben El Mehdi was one of the most celebrated\nmusicians and wits of his day.  \"He was a man of great merit and\na perfect scholar, possessed of an open heart and a generous\nhand; his like had never before been seen among the sons of the\nKhalifs, none of whom spoke with more propriety and elegance or\ncomposed verses with greater ability.\" (Ibn Khellikan.)\n\n[FN#132] Ibrahim of Mosul, the greatest musician of the time, a\nboon-companion and special favourite of Haroun er Reshid and his\nson.\n\n[FN#133] Lit. the lord of the blood-revenge, i.e. the person\nentitled to exact the blood-wit.\n\n[FN#134] His Vizier.\n\n[FN#135] Joseph to his brethren, Koran xii. 92.\n\n[FN#136] Playing upon the literal meaning, \"blood-sucker,\" of the\nword kejjam, cupper or barber-surgeon.\n\n[FN#137] The Arabic word is el Medineh, lit. the city. Perhaps\nthe narrator meant to compare the citadel to the actual city of\nMedina.\n\n[FN#138] A well-known theologian.\n\n[FN#139] Koran lxxxix. 6, 7.\n\n[FN#140] According to the Breslau edition, it was the prophet\nHond who, being sent of God to exhort Sheddad and his people to\nembrace the true faith, promised them Paradise in the next world,\nas a reward, describing it as above. Quoth Sheddad, on hearing\nthis description, \"I will build me in this world the like of this\nParadise and I have no need of that thou promisest me.\"\n\n[FN#141] i.e. the prophet Houd (Heber).\n\n[FN#142] Son of Ibrahim el Mausili and still more famous as a\nmusician. He was also an excellent poet and a great favourite\nwith the Khalif Mamoun.\n\n[FN#143] Mamoun's own Vizier, a man of great wealth and\nmunificence.\n\n[FN#144] Witout the town.\n\n[FN#145] Medewwerek, lit. \"something round.\" This word generally\nmeans a small round cushion; but, in the present instance, a gong\nis evidently referred to.\n\n[FN#146] The Prophet's uncle, from whom the Abbaside Khalifs were\ndescended.\n\n[FN#147] Lit. \"fugleman,\" i.e. \"leader of the people at prayer,\"\na title bestowed upon the Khalifs, in recognition of their\nspiritual headship.\n\n[FN#148] Dies albo lapide notanda.\n\n[FN#149] Lit. Kaabeh.\n\n[FN#150] Referring to the station in the Temple of Mecca, known\nas the Mecam or standing-place of Abraham. The wish inferred is\nthat the Khalif's court may be as favourite a place of reverent\nresort as the station in question.\n\n[FN#151] Or (quaere) a pair of forceps.\n\n[FN#152] See ante, p. 335. {see Vol. 3, FN#139}\n\n[FN#153] i.e. thieves.\n\n[FN#154] See ante, p. 337. {...to Many-Columned Irem, at the ...}\n\n[FN#155] A city on the Euphrates, about 40 miles west of Baghdad.\n\n[FN#156] The famous King of Persia.\n\n[FN#157] In Arabia.\n\n[FN#158] Lit. \"a thorn-acacia tree.\" Quaere, the name of a town\nin Egypt?","title":"The Book of the Thousand Nights and One Night, Volume III","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":135669}