At the conclusion of this relation, Haschem thought with compassion of his father, and had his mournful countenance and bowed-down form before his mind. He knew, from the great love he had always shown him, that he must have pined for his loss.
"Princess," said he, "your desire cannot be greater than mine. Still, I swear to you that I will not return to my father till I have safely conducted you to your native land, or have given you over to safe guides to bring you to your father; if I do not, may Heaven not grant my father life to receive this joy!"
They journeyed on with renewed vigour. But evening was drawing near, and they must find a resting-place for the night. Fortune was favourable: they soon found a spot, shadowed, by a high bush.
Haschem broke away the boughs so as to form a hedge, which quite concealed the Princess, and to which he only left a narrow entrance, before which he lay down to watch. Night passed without danger. However anxiously Haschem strove against sleep, to watch over his companion, it at last weighed down his eyelids, and they both awoke with the first rays of the sun. Their good star soon led them to a spot where they found refreshing wood-berries, the names of which were unknown to them, and they were anxious to discover if they were poisonous; but hunger made them venture. They wandered the whole day, resting alternately. At every step the journey became more hazardous. The thickets became thicker and higher; they were often obliged to creep between the boughs, and their clothes hung in rags. On the fourth day they reached the foot of the mountain. There they found cultivated land and human habitations. Haschem inquired where they were, and asked for the sea. The people told them the name of the country, which was unknown to Haschem and the Princess Handa. On the other side of the high mountain lay a large flat land, whose coast was washed by the sea. They received this information with great joy. They descended the mountain, came to the flat land, and at last, after a wearisome journey, during which they had seen the sun rise and set seven times, they arrived at the sea-coast. A ship lay ready at anchor, and when they inquired its destination, the steersman answered, "We are going to Selandia to fetch a cargo of cinnamon." To Haschem's question where they came from, and what this land where they were was called, he received for answer, "that the ship belonged to a merchant of Balsora, and that it had been cast on these unknown shores by a violent storm."
When the Princess perceived that the ship was going towards her native land, she was very much rejoiced. She took one of the precious stones out of her forehead-band, and gave it as a reward for her and her companion. The following morning they weighed anchor, and, after a prosperous voyage, they reached the same place where the enchanter's ship had formerly lain at anchor when he carried off the Princess.
They were landed in a small boat, and Handa led her delivererinto the beautiful leafy walks of the imperial gardens. In this way they came to a terrace, from which they could see the ship. Instead of pressing quickly forwards, they concealed themselves behind a bush. A very melancholy old man sat on this terrace, looking over the sea; and while a flood of tears ran down his face,
"Ah!" cried he, "it was just so on the day that my sorrows began! There lay the ship of the robber, there landed the boat which carried away my beloved daughter and her betrothed. It was even at the same hour of the day. I have sent messengers into all the neighbouring lands; I have caused the opposite sea-coasts to be searched; but all has been in vain! I must die, and never see my child again."
He pronounced these words aloud, and covered his face as he bowed himself forward on his hands.
Princess Handa wished to hasten to him, but Haschem held her back, and said, "Let me first prepare him for your arrival, else joy may kill him." And he sprang forward, and bowed before the sorrowing old man, making his forehead touch the ground.
The King then said, "Who are you? Are you a beggar, and do you need any gift? It shall be given you: go to my palace."
Haschem stood up and answered, "In such circumstances you might well take me for a beggar, O great King Kadga Singa. But know that under these ragged clothes is concealed a magician, who is come to change your tears into smiles, your sobs into transports of joy."
"Can any man on earth do this?" asked Kadga Singa.
"I have only to speak three words," he answered, "and it will happen. Are you strong enough to support the highest joy that your heart can conceive and feel?"
At these questions a ray of hope in the soul of the mourning father beamed through his tearful eyes. "What is it? Who are you who can promise this?" asked he.
And Haschem repeated his question, "Do you feel strong enough?"
"I think so," answered the King, regarding him with hopeful looks.
"Draw near, Princess Handa, your father is prepared," cried the youth; and she sprang forwards into her father's open arms.
Then was Haschem's word fulfilled: his tears were changed into smiles, his sobs into transports of joy. Their embrace continued long. At last Kadga Singa raised himself, beckoned Haschem to approach, and said, "You are a magician; such an one I have never before seen. By your magic words you have changed the mournful course of my life into the brightest sunshine. I will not now ask you who you are, and what I have to thank you for; I will not now inquire what chance brought you to my daughter; I shall only give myself up to joy at her return."
They went back to the capital in a kingly boat, and soon the joyful news of the unexpected reappearance of the Princess spread everywhere. Numbers assembled at the palace to ascertain if the news were true; and Princess Handa went out to the gate and down the steps. Then arose a shout of joy of a thousand voices, and loud wishes for her health and happiness.
The next day, after the King had heard the history of her imprisonment related by his daughter, and with what devotion Haschem had watched over her, and when Haschem had narrated his history, Kadga Singa was very thoughtful, and caused his council to assemble to deliberate how they should reward him.
"If he were not so young," said some of them, "he might be made Grand Vizier, the next in dignity to the King, or be appointed Governor of a province. But his youth prevents his being raised over the people next to the King."
After longer consultation, the eldest of the councillors rose, and said, "Kadga Singa, my King and lord. The youth has certainly performed a great service to you and the Princess Handa; therefore it seems to me that his reward ought to come from you. Itseems to me that the King, having received from him good in his family, must reward him from his family. Were I in such a case, I would appoint him as Mundiana, and give him for a wife the daughter whom he has restored."
The whole assembly were of the same opinion, and the King gave them to understand that this was also his wish.
"I am old," he said, "and can easily perceive that the cares of this land will soon need other hands to support them. I shall be much pleased to see my daughter with a noble husband. Prince Mundian Oppu has disappeared, whom I had before chosen; and this youth, although of meaner origin, is of noble soul, and will soon, under my guidance, acquire the necessary circumspection to promote justice and order in my kingdom."
He did not delay, but immediately caused Haschem to be called. A costly band of gold and silver was fastened round his forehead, and the King then said, "I herewith appoint you Mundiana."
And the assembled councillors cried out, "We congratulate you, hail, Mundiana!"
But Haschem laughed, and said, "Forgive my ignorance: what is Mundiana?"
The eldest councillor stepped forward, and said, "This name points out the highest step of honour which the King can bestow. You are found worthy of this honour; and no other lives who bears this title, because Prince Mundian Oppu has disappeared."
An elephant covered with costly trappings was now brought in by its keeper, and upon it was a richly ornamented seat. On this the new Mundiana was placed, and led through the streets. Heralds went before him, and cried aloud, "Listen to what Kadga Singa makes known to all people. This youth has restored to him his dearest jewel which he had lost. In gratitude, the King has nominated him Mundiana, and has appointed his daughter Handa for his wife. To-morrow will the betrothal be celebrated; and everybody is requested to come into the court of the palace to partake of the joy of the festival."
Haschem knew not how all this had come about. He received clothes and rich arms as a present from the King; and the Kingso highly favoured him that he was not only to be husband of the Princess Handa, but was to succeed Kadga Singa on the throne, and to reign over that beautiful and rich land. In this happiness he forgot his early life, his father's sorrow, and even Zoraine his playfellow in youth, his father's faithful friend Saad, and thought no more of his home or his fatherland. The next day his betrothal with the Princess was celebrated with great pomp.
The Princess had willingly yielded to her father's wish, without manifesting any particular joy, or showing any affection for her future husband; although she felt very friendly towards him, and treated him with great respect and attention, as her grateful heart did not forget in prosperity how much she had owed to him in misfortune.
The first days and weeks passed in the delights of joy: then he was introduced by the King into the council, and taught the business of the State. The King and councillors had often reason to wonder at his acuteness in judgment in difficult cases, and, above all, at his perception of right and wrong. Soon no sentence was pronounced without his opinion being first consulted; and it often happened that it was contrary to that of the rest of the council; but the reasons for his decision always prevailed. In all lands the justice and wisdom of the King's future son-in-law were praised, and it was hoped that fortune would permit him to rule over the land.
A whole year had now elapsed, and the day was fast approaching when he was to marry the Princess and ascend the throne. One day, as usual, he sought his betrothed, the Princess Handa, in her apartments. As he was announced by a servant, he went in quickly, and saw the Princess hastily wiping her eyes; and as he drew nearer, he found the traces of her tears. Sympathizing with her, he asked the cause of her grief, and she tried to avoid answering him; but as he continued to urge her, she at last said, "I dare tell you why these tears flow, because you are good and compassionate, and will not consider it a crime that I have a feeling and sympathizing heart. You know that I was formerly beloved by Prince Mundian Oppu, the son of the neighbouringKing. I related to you that this Prince was changed into a blackbird by the enchanter, and flew from the ship to the promontory of the island where our country seat was situated. Now, I must tell you that I grieve so much the more about this Prince's fate, as from my own change I can compassionate his mournful condition. I could not repress this desire, and I have obtained certain news of his life and present condition by the secret knowledge of a clever Tirinaxian. And in this manner I have learned that he still lives in his new form, and that he has flown, from fear of the snares of the hunter, whom we call Dodda Waddas, out of the land into distant regions; and that it is ordained by fate that he shall never regain his human form if I give my hand to another husband. Sorrow at this mournful destiny has drawn these tears from my eyes, the traces of which you observed."
This narrative made a deep impression on Haschem: he discovered also that Handa had acceded to her father's wish only from gratitude and filial obedience, whilst her affection was fixed on the absent Prince. He saw that he must purchase the good fortune to be husband of the noble Princess, and son-in-law of the great King Kadga Singa, and after him to be King of Selandia, only by the misfortunes of Prince Mundian Oppu. He asked himself if this were right, and was obliged to confess that his reason and knowledge of justice and honour were opposed to it. He saw that the intoxication of good fortune had hitherto blinded him. Then the remembrance of his father came before him, and he imagined him pining away at the uncertainty of his son's fate. He bitterly reproached himself for his long forgetfulness, and for not having sent an embassy to announce his safe arrival in Selandia.
Scarcely had these thoughts and feelings arisen in his breast, than he made up his mind. He took Handa's hand, and promised her that he would do all he could to find her former lover, and restore him to her. Then he went to the King, told him all, and begged him to let him go to fulfil a son's duty to a father whom he had too long neglected. Kadga Singa sighed deeply at these disclosures of his future son-in-law: he proposed to send a ship to bring his father, so that he might end his life in sharing his son'sgood fortune and companionship. But Haschem declared to him, with determination, that he could never be his son-in-law or successor to the throne.
"I cannot purchase such good fortune at another's expense," said he. "It was otherwise before I knew the decision of fate; but now that I know the Prince Mundian Oppu must, through my happiness, always remain in his present condition, if I thus take away the possibility of his ever returning to human form, I should be in the highest degree culpable. Therefore I voluntarily give up my good fortune."
All the persuasions and urgings of Kadga Singa were useless. The councillors also, and the Grand Vizier and the Governors of the provinces, begged him to continue in the land, and to take still more share in the government. He remained firm in his resolution. He promised the Princess, who was astonished at his honourable spirit, that as soon as he had seen and comforted his father, he would demand information of Prince Mundian Oppu from all the sages and magicians of his native land, and that he would try all means to restore him to his former condition. As he was determined to set out, the King gave him costly presents, besides many precious stones from his treasury, and provided him with a ship, and all necessaries for the voyage. He took leave, and the good wishes of all who knew him accompanied him.
The heavens seemed to favour the resolution of the returning son: the warmest weather and most favourable winds seconded his journey, and the ship anchored in the harbour without accident. He took some servants; bought some camels, which he loaded with the King's presents, and so went through Balsora along the river to Bagdad.
One beautiful evening he came near the city to the place wherehe had lain at the feet of his father and Saad, and listened to their discourses: their last discourse there returned to his memory.
"Well," said he to himself, "it is true that it is easy for a man to be seduced from virtue into one false step, if he is not watchful, but relies on his own power: so it happened to me. I thought that my heart was always right, and neglected to try if what I did was just. In this manner have I so much forgotten my love for my father, and had nearly committed a great wrong; whilst I, in the intoxication of good fortune, was about to sacrifice to my vanity the happiness of the Princess and her betrothed. And you, my dearest father, were also right when you maintained that a heart accustomed to virtue from early years would only for a short time wander from the right road. I have myself experienced the truth of these words, and I therefore thank you with tears that you always accustomed me to what was good."
Whilst he spoke, he lifted up his eyes, and saw a single hut where the palm-trees used to stand. A venerable old man, much marked by sorrow, appeared at the door: he stood still before the threshold, and watched the youth with astonishment. The young man gazed earnestly at him. He suddenly recognized the features of the old man, and threw himself on his knees before him, seized his hand, and bowing his head on it, bedewed it with his tears, and covered it with kisses.
"My father!" cried he: "is it so indeed? Have you so much altered in the course of so few years?—that is my fault. Father, forgive your easily offending son, who forgot you in the height of prosperity."
Naima stretched his other hand to him, blessed him, and said, "Rise up, my son, rise: he who feels repentance is forgiven."
He rose and threw himself into his father's arms.
When he looked up, he saw a man approach, leading a maiden whose features he recognized. It was Saad and his daughter Zoraine, Haschem's playfellow. After welcoming him, they sat down, and Haschem related to them all that had happened to him since that evening. He related, truly and candidly, how he had forgotten his father, and nearly fallen into greater crimes, becausehe had been blinded by fortune, by empty greatness, and honour. Whilst they were sitting, they observed three birds, who came from a distance, and seemed to pursue one another. They soon perceived a black bird, which flew anxiously, and seemed followed by a bird of prey. He would soon have reached his prey, had he not been pursued by a larger bird; and to avoid this, he was often compelled to go from side to side: at last they came to close conflict. The pursued black bird flew into Haschem's lap; the bird of prey, struck by his pursuer, fell to the ground at their feet, and was, by his strong hooked bill and sharp claws, soon killed and torn to pieces. Scarcely had the last occurrence taken place, when the conqueror changed into a venerable-looking sage. He turned to Haschem, who was quite astonished, and said,
"Dip quickly your forefinger in the blood of this slain one, and anoint with it the beak of the black bird."
Haschem obeyed immediately; and scarcely had he touched the black bird's beak with the blood, than it changed, and a handsome youth in kingly dress stood before them.
"Guess who this is," said the genius.
"Mundian Oppu?" asked Haschem.
And the genius answered, "It is he!" And as he stood looking at the young man with astonishment, he said, "You do not perceive how and why all this has happened. I could explain to you all these mysteries; but to what purpose? It is not necessary for weak men to know the threads by which their fates are linked together: suffice it to know that it was necessary that you should perform all this, that you might be tried. You are found worthy, and Heaven rewards you with Zoraine, the early companion of your youth, now to be your wife."
Then Haschem turned towards Zoraine, and looked inquiringly at Saad, her father. This latter said,
"With joy I listen to the will of fate: the highest wish of my heart will now be fulfilled."
"Know," continued the genius, "that the slain bird was the enchanter who had changed the Princess Handa and the Prince Mundian Oppu. They were also to pass through trials: thus itwas decreed by fate. Because the enchanter only fulfilled the will of fate from selfish motives, and carried his revenge beyond it, and contrary to it, the King of the Genii commanded me to slay him."
With these words he disappeared from their sight. They returned now in happy union to the city; and Naima, who had built his hut at the edge of the wood, to be always near the place of his sorrow, dwelt again with his children. Prince Mundian Oppu went back to Selandia in the same ship that had brought Haschem. He was received there with immeasurable joy, and was soon married to his early love. But Haschem's name lived long in their memory, and in that of all the inhabitants of that island.
When the Caliph Haroun al Raschid heard of Haschem's return, he had him called before him, and made him relate his history. The Caliph was so pleased with him, that he took him into his palace, and gave him an important post in his Court. His history he caused to be inscribed in the records of his kingdom. As Giafar, his old Vizier, wished to end his life in quietness, the Caliph raised Haschem to be Grand Vizier; and he continued long in this office, to the pleasure of his relatives and the happiness of the people, by whom he was greatly beloved.
I
n Bagdad lived an old merchant, of the name of Abon Casem, who was famous for his riches, but still more for his avarice. His coffers were small to look at—if you could get a sight of them—and very dirty; but they were crammed with jewels. His clothes were as scanty as need be; but then, even in his clothes, there wasmultum in parvo: to wit, much dirt, in little space. All the embroidery he wore was of that kind which is of necessity attendant upon a ragged state of drapery. It meanderedover his bony form in all the beauty of ill-sewn patches. His turban was of the finest kind of linen for lasting: a kind of canvas, and so mixed with elementary substances that its original colour, if it still existed, was invisible. But, of all his habiliments, his slippers were most deserving the study of the curious. They were the extreme cases, both of his body and his dirt. The soles consisted chiefly of huge nails, and the upper leathers of almost everything. The ship of the Argonauts was not a greater miscellany. During the ten years of their performance in the character of shoes, the most skilful cobblers had exercised their science and ingenuity in keeping them together. The accumulation of materials had been so great, and their weight was so heavy in proportion, that they were promoted to honours of proverbialism; and Abon Casem's slippers became a favourite comparison when a superfluity of weight was the subject of discourse.
It happened one day, as this precious merchant was walking in the market, that he had a great quantity of fine glass bottles offered him for sale; and, as the proposed bargain was greatly on his side, and he made it still more so, he bought them. The vendor informed him, furthermore, that a perfumer having lately become bankrupt, had no resource left but to sell, at a very low price, a large quantity of rose-water; and Casem, greatly rejoicing at this news, and, hastening to the poor man's shop, bought up all the rose-water at half its value. He then carried it home, and comfortably put it in his bottles. Delighted with these good bargains, and buoyant in his spirits, our hero, instead of making a feast, according to the custom of his fellows, thought it more advisable to go to the bath, where he had not been for some time.
While employed in the intricate business of undressing, one of his friends, or one whom he believed such—for your misers seldom have any—observed that his pantofles had made him quite the bye-word of the city, and that it was high time to buy a new pair.
"To say the truth," said Casem, "I have long thought of doing so; but they are not yet so worn as to be unable to serve me a little longer." And, having undressed himself, he went into the stove.
During the luxury he was there enjoying, the Cadi of Bagdad came in, and, having undressed himself, he went into the stove likewise. Casem soon after came out, and, having dressed himself, looked about for his pantofles; but nowhere could he find them. In the place of his own, he found a pair sufficiently different to be not only new, but splendid. And, feeling convinced that they were a gift from his friend—not the less so, perhaps, because he wished it—he triumphantly thrust his toes in them, and issued forth into the air, radiant with joy and a skin nearly clean.
On the other hand, when the Cadi had performed the necessary purifications, and was dressed, his slaves looked for his lordship's slippers in vain. Nowhere could they be found. Instead of the embroidered pantofles of the Judge, they detected, in a corner, only the phenomena left by Casem, which were too well known to leave a doubt how their master's had disappeared. The slaves went immediately for Casem, and brought him back to the indignant magistrate, who, deaf to his attempts at defence, sent him to prison. Now, in the East, the claws of justice open just as wide, and no wider than the purse of the culprit; and it may be supposed that Abon Casem, who was known to be as rich as he was miserly, did not get his freedom at the same rate as his rose-water.
The miserable Casem returned home, tearing his beard—for beard is not a dear stuff—and, being mightily enraged with the pantofles, he seized upon them, and threw them out of his window into the Tigris.
It happened a few days after that some fishermen drew their nets under the window, and the weight being greater than usual, they were exulting in their success, when out came the pantofles. Furious against Casem (for who did not know Casem's pantofles?), they threw them in at the window, at the same time reviling him for the accident. Unhappy Casem! The pantofles flew into his room, fell among his bottles, which were ranged with great care along the shelf, and, overthrowing them, covered the room with glass and rose-water. Imagine, if you can, the miser's agony! With a loud voice, and tearing his beard, according to custom,he roared out, "Accursed pantofles, will you never cease persecuting the wretched Casem?"
So saying, he took a spade, and went into his garden to bury them.
It so happened that one of his neighbours was looking out of window at the time, and seeing Casem poking about the earth in his garden, he ran to the Cadi, and told him that his old friend had discovered a treasure. Nothing more was requisite to excite the cupidity of the Judge. He allowed the miser to aver, as loudly as he pleased, that he was burying his slippers, and had found no treasure, but at the same time demanded the treasure he had found. Casem talked to no purpose. Wearied out at last with his own asseverations, he paid the money, and departed, cursing the very souls of the pantofles.
Determined to get rid of these unhappy moveables, our hero walked to some distance from the city, and threw them into a reservoir, hoping he had now fairly seen the last of them; but the evil genii, not yet tired of tormenting him, guided the pantofles precisely to the mouth of the conduit. From this point they were carried along into the city, and, sticking at the mouth of the aqueduct, they stopped it up, and prevented the water from flowing into the basin. The overseers of the city fountains, seeing that the water had stopped, immediately set about repairing the damage, and at length dragged into the face of day the old reprobate slippers, which they immediately took to the Cadi, complaining loudly of the damage they had caused.
The unfortunate proprietor was now condemned to pay a fine still heavier than before; but far was he from having the luck of seeing his chattels detained. The Cadi, having delivered the sentence, said, like a conscientious magistrate, that he had no power of retaining other peoples' property, upon which the slippers, with much solemnity, were faithfully returned to their distracted master. He carried them home with him, meditating as he went—and as well as he was able to meditate—how he should destroy them; at length he determined upon committing them to the flames. He accordingly tried to do so, but theywere too wet; so he put them on a terrace to dry. But the evil genii, as aforesaid, had reserved a still more cruel accident than any before; for a dog, whose master lived hard by, seeing these strange wild fowl of a pair of shoes, jumped from one terrace to the other, till he came to the miser's, and began to play with one of them: in his sport he dropped it over the balustrade, and it fell, heavy with hobnails and the accumulated dirt of years, on the tender head of an infant, and killed him on the spot. The parents went straight to the Cadi, and complained that they had found their child dead, and Casem's pantofle lying by it, upon which the Judge condemned him to pay a very heavy fine.
Casem returned home, and taking the pantofles, went back to the Cadi, crying out with an enthusiasm that convulsed everybody, "Behold! behold! See here the fatal cause of all the sufferings of Casem! these pantofles, which have at length brought ruin upon his head. My Lord Cadi, be so merciful, I pray you, as to give an edict that may free me from all imputation of accident which these slippers henceforth may occasion, as they certainly will to anybody who ventures into their accursed leather!"
The Cadi could not refuse this request, and the miser learned to his cost the ill effects of not buying a new pair of shoes.
I
n a great city of the East lived Prince Azgid, who grew up to manhood beloved by every one, for he was virtuous, intelligent, and accomplished, though somewhat of a timorous disposition, and this was indeed his chief fault. His father had died, and he had reached now the proper age to mount the throne, a time having been already fixed for the ceremony, to which the young man was looking forward with great interest.
A few days previous to the event the old Vizier called upon the Prince, and telling him he wished to take a walk with him, led him out of the town to a mountain, on one side of which was a wide staircase of white marble, with a handsome balustrade on each side. It had three broad landings, and on these the Vizier and Princerested as they ascended the stairs, for it was of great height, and they were both sorely tired before they reached the top. There was a small house on the summit, out of which came a black slave, who made a profound obeisance to the visitors, and, leading the way, took them a short distance to a kind of arena dug in the ground, and faced also with white marble. He then took out a key and opened a brazen door, whereupon the Prince drew near, and, looking down, saw a red lion of fierce aspect and tremendous size. He wondered what it all meant, and gazed with a look of inquiry into the face of the Vizier, who, having ordered the servant to retire, thus spoke:
"My son," said he, "the day is now very near on which you are to ascend the throne; but before you can do so you must fulfil a custom which has been established for many ages, and which your father and all your ancestors submitted to; in short, you must descend into this den with a dagger, and fight yonder lion. This will test your courage and fortitude, and show whether you are really worthy of governing a kingdom."
When the young man heard this, he turned pale, and almost fell to the ground.
"This is a severe task," said he; "is there no alternative, nor any method by which I may evade it?"
"None, whatever," answered the Vizier.
"Can I not have a few days granted me to think over the matter, and prepare for the sore trial?" asked the youth.
"Oh, yes!" returned the other, "that you can have, of course." Whereupon he beckoned to the slave to lock the door, and the visitors descended the stairs and returned to the palace.
The joy of Azgid's life seemed now to have fled, and he was suddenly immersed in deep despair. The horrid combat he was to engage in was continually before him. He could neither eat nor drink, but wandered about the palace like one distracted, or sat moping for hours, with his head buried in his hands, speaking to no one. He was glad when night came, that he might hide himself from observation, and retired to his chamber in tears. But he found no comfort there. Sleep fled from him, and he lay tossingupon his bed, anxiously awaiting the return of day. During the tedious hours of darkness he had meditated what course he had best pursue, and at length came to the resolution that he would extricate himself from the dilemma he was in by bidding farewell to his home, and seeking peace and safety in some far-distant land.
Accordingly, as soon as it was daylight, he hastily dressed himself, and going to the stables, mounted a fleet horse and rode off. Glad was he when he got outside the town, and turning round to take a last look, he thus exclaimed:
"Oh, cursed city! cursed home! what misery lies within you! May each hour carry me farther from you! and may these eyes never behold you again!"
With these words he put spurs to his horse, and was soon out of sight of the detested spot. He journeyed forward with a light heart, and on the third day came to a pleasant country overgrown with forest trees, intermingled with lawns and romantic vales.
Proceeding a little farther on, he heard the sound of delicious music, and soon overtook a handsome youth of ruddy countenance, somewhat younger than himself, playing on a flute, and leading a few sheep.
The shepherd, on seeing the stranger, stopped playing, and saluted him very courteously; but Azgid begged him to go on, telling him what an admirer of music he was, and that he had never in his life heard such enchanting strains.
The young man smiled at this compliment, and commenced playing some fresh tunes; and, when he had finished, he informed the Prince that he was slave to a rich shepherd named Oaxus, who lived near, and who would be rejoiced to see him, and show him some hospitality.
In a few moments they reached the abode of Oaxus.
It was a low stone building of considerable size, with a porch surrounding it, overgrown with vines and flowers. Around it was a large yard, encircled with a high wall, in which were some flocks of sheep, with a number of men tending them.
On entering, the old shepherd came forward and gave the strangera hearty welcome, leading him into a neat apartment, and setting before him a handsome repast. After Azgid had finished eating, he thought it his duty to give his kind host some information as to who he was, and thus spoke:
"My friend," said he, "you no doubt wonder at seeing a stranger of my appearance thus suddenly visiting you, and will naturally wish to inquire who I am. This wish I can only in part gratify. Suffice it to say that I am a Prince whom troubles at home have driven abroad; but my name I cannot tell. That is a secret lodged in my own breast, to be imparted to no one. If no inconvenience to you, it would please me much to remain in this delightful spot. I have ample means at my disposal, and will remunerate you for whatever trouble I may put you to."
Oaxus replied to this speech in the kindest manner, begging the young man to say nothing about remuneration, for that the company of one so exalted and accomplished would more than repay him for any trouble he might be put to in entertaining him, and that nothing would give him more happiness than to have him remain there to the end of his days.
"But come, Asdril," said he, addressing the musician, "take the Prince and show him what is most worthy to be seen in this neighbourhood. Lead him to the waterfalls, the fountains, the rocks and vales, for I perceive our guest is one able to appreciate nature's beauties."
The young shepherd did as requested, and, taking up his flute, led the youth to all the pleasantest and most interesting spots.
They wandered about the sloping hills and deep valleys, and over beautiful lawns, sprinkled with trees of immense size. At one time they stood by the side of some gently murmuring stream, and now they were startled with a romantic cascade, whose flashing waters tumbled from mossy cliffs and echoed far and wide. They now entered a shady vale, and, seating themselves on a rock, the shepherd commenced playing his flute. The Prince listened with delight, for, as we said before, he was passionately fond of music, and had never in his life heard any one who pleased him so much. Indeed, he made up his mind that, if ever he left the place, hewould endeavour to purchase from Oaxus the accomplished slave, and have him as his constant companion as long as he lived.
Thus did Azgid enjoy himself amid these delicious scenes, congratulating himself that he had escaped from all his troubles, and had at last reached a spot where he might live in peace and tranquillity for ever.
But his joy was not to last long; for young Asdril on a sudden rose up, and, taking his companion by the hand, told him it was time for them to be gone.
"Why so?" asked the Prince. "Why should we so soon leave these enchanting scenes?"
"Alas!" answered the shepherd, "this place is infested with lions. They come out at a certain hour every day, and we all have to retire within the walls of our abode and close the gates. See here," continued he, rolling up his sleeve, and showing a great scar on his arm, "this is what I received in an encounter with these fierce beasts. I once lagged behind, and was with great difficulty saved from destruction. So, let us lose no time, but make the best of our way home."
On hearing these words, the Prince turned pale; but he said nothing, and they silently returned to the house.
On reaching the gate, Azgid called for his horse, and, having mounted, told his host that he was about to leave, and thanked him for his kindness. "Farewell, Oaxus!" said he. "Farewell, young Asdril! I thought I should have remained here forever; but fate decrees otherwise. I must seek another abode, another home." And, so saying, he put spurs to his horse and galloped away.
He journeyed on and on, and soon left the groves and green valleys. The country became more barren, trees began to disappear, and, not long after, scarcely any verdure was visible. He was soon in the midst of the desert. Far as the eye could reach, the vast plain spread before him. Not a shrub or blade of grass could be seen, and nothing met the view but, now and then, some low sand-hills, piled up by the wind like drifts of snow, among which, with much fatigue to his horse, he pursued his way. Thesun blazed on him with great power; and it was with much satisfaction, on the third day, that he perceived in the distance a number of black tents, which he knew to be an encampment of Arabs.
As he drew near, a band of warriors, mounted on fine horses and brandishing their spears, came forth to meet him. This was their usual mode of welcoming a stranger.
They seemed struck with the appearance of Azgid, and showed him much respect, forming a sort of guard around him, and leading him to the tent of their chief.
The latter was a person of dignified aspect, somewhat past the prime of life. His name was Sheik Hajaar. He sat smoking in front of his tent; and, when the youth approached, he rose up and cordially saluted him. He then took him inside the tent, and set before him a repast, of which, when the young man had eaten, he thought it his duty to inform his kind host who he was.
"My friend," said he, "you are no doubt surprised at seeing a stranger of my appearance thus suddenly visiting you, and will naturally wish to inquire who I am. This wish I can only in part gratify: suffice it, then, to say that I am a Prince whom troubles at home have driven abroad, but my name I cannot tell; that is a secret lodged within my own breast, to be imparted to no one. If no inconvenience to you, it would please me much to remain here. I have ample means at my command, and will remunerate you for whatever trouble I may put you to."
The Sheik replied that the company of one so exalted and accomplished was remuneration enough, and that he would be rejoiced to have him as his guest for ever. He then introduced him to a number of his friends, and leading him out, presented him with a beautiful horse of great value. Azgid thought he had never in his life seen so fine an animal; and when he mounted him he found him so gentle and docile as scarcely to require any management, for the intelligent creature seemed to anticipate all his wishes.
"But, come," said the Sheik, "it is time for us to be off: to-day we hunt the antelope; you, Prince, will of course accompany us."
Azgid, with a smile, replied in the affirmative, and they startedoff in pursuit of the game. They soon overtook a herd, and commenced chasing them—spears flew, and the air resounded with cries. The Prince was exhilarated with the sport, and enjoyed himself exceedingly. "Ah!" thought he, "this is a happy life, and these children of the desert are happy people: I am resolved never to quit them." The hunt lasted nearly the whole day, and about sunset the company returned with the spoil, which consisted of more than a dozen antelopes. These sports were kept up nearly every day, and Azgid's time passed most agreeably.
A week had now elapsed, and the youth had one night retired to rest, congratulating himself on the happy life he led, when the Sheik Hajaar quietly approached his couch, and thus spake:
"My son," said he, "I have come to tell you how much my people are pleased with you, and especially with the spirit you evince in the sports of the chase. But these sports do not comprise all our life: we have frequent wars with hostile tribes, where great valour is necessary. My men are all approved warriors, and, before they can have perfect confidence in you as a trusty comrade, desire to see some specimen of your prowess. Two leagues south of this is a range of hills infested with lions; rise, then, early on the morrow, mount your horse, take your sword and spear, and slay and bring us the skin of one of these savage beasts: then will we be assured of your courage, and have confidence in you in the day of battle."
Having thus spoke, the Sheik bid him good night, and retired. His words disturbed Azgid extremely. "Ah!" thought he, "here are the lions again! wherever I go I meet them. I thought I had found at last a quiet home, but I am mistaken; this is not the place for me." He then got out of bed, and, lifting up the covering of the tent, slipped out, and went first to see the horse the Sheik had given him. He found him tethered among the others, and, going up to him, threw his arms around him and kissed him. "Farewell, kind creature," said he, "I grieve to leave you!" The animal leaned his head on his shoulders, and seemed to return his good feelings. The youth then sought his own steed, and, having mounted him, started off.
He rode over the trackless sands, with the bright stars glittering above him, a homeless wanderer, not knowing whither he was going. At length morning began to appear, and soon the sun rose and beat upon his head with its fierce rays; by the middle of the day he was rejoiced to perceive that he was leaving the desert; and late in the afternoon he reached a charming region of hill and dale, streams and meadows.
He soon after came to one of the most beautiful palaces he had ever seen. It was built of porphyry, and stood in the midst of an immense garden, where every plant and flower grew that could delight the sight or regale the senses. Trees loaded with all kinds of delicious fruits, some trimmed and cut into the most curious shapes, were seen on all sides. Statues of exquisite forms stood among them. From many of these fountains spouted upwards to a vast height, whose waters fell murmuring into large basins, where gold-fish, swans and other water-fowl were seen swimming about. Peacocks and other gorgeous birds strutted and flew around in every direction; and so many objects met the young man's eye, as he slowly rode up the broad avenue, that he stopped almost every moment to gaze and admire. At last lie reached the portico, which was raised twenty steps, and adorned with twelve columns of clear jasper.
The owner of the palace, who was an Emir of great wealth, was seated on the portico, in company with his daughter, the golden-haired Perizide.
On seeing a stranger of such dignified mien approaching, he rose up and went to welcome him. He led him up the steps, and introduced him to the young lady, who became at once interested with the looks and demeanour of the handsome youth. The Emir then took his guest inside the palace.
Azgid looked round with wonder. If the exterior of the building delighted him, how much more was he pleased with its interior? The hall was of vast size, with a noble staircase in the middle; the apartments were spacious, and shone with gold; the walls and ceilings were covered with the most exquisite paintings in fresco; and vases of precious stones, statues, and all kinds of rare curiositieswere ranged around; the windows were of something that resembled pearl, and were stained with different colours, so that, as the sun shone through them, the tesselated floor received the rays, and glittered with all the tints of the rainbow. Azgid gazed with astonishment. The Emir now set before him a collation composed of the most delicate viands, delicious fruits, and wines.
After he had finished eating, the Prince thought it his duty to inform his kind host who he was.
"Sir," said he, "you no doubt wonder at one of my appearance thus suddenly visiting you, and will naturally wish to inquire who I am. This wish I can only in part gratify. Suffice it, then, to say that I am a Prince whom troubles at home have driven abroad, but my name I cannot tell: that is a secret lodged in my own breast, to be imparted to no one. If no inconvenience to you, it would delight me much to remain with you; and at some future day, if fortune should again smile upon me, I will be happy to return the favour, and reciprocate your hospitality."
The Emir replied to this speech in the kindest manner, telling the youth that he did him a great honour in making him a visit, and that he hoped he would remain to the end of his days. He further informed him that he expected that night a number of his friends to favour him with their company, and, wishing to look after the preparations for the banquet, he begged his guest to excuse him for a short time.
When the Emir retired, Azgid was left alone with the fair Perizide, and was struck more than ever with her ravishing beauty. In fact, he fell deeply in love with her. She, on her part, seemed not insensible to his merits, and exerted herself to amuse and entertain him. She led him into the garden, showing him all the rare sights, and bidding him observe the consummate art with which the shrubbery and trees were arranged, and the charming green alleys and vistas which opened before them as they walked along.
They explored the beauties of this fairy scene, seating themselves by the side of the glittering fountains, and sometimes beneath the dark shadows of the flowery arbours, through which the rays of a bright full moon began now to penetrate.
They then returned to the palace, and, approaching, heard the strains of festive music, and perceived the building illuminated from top to bottom. They passed through the throngs on the portico, and entered the house, which was lit up with hundreds of dazzling lustres, and crowded with guests, all habited in splendid dresses. Perizide led the youth into the grand saloon, and seated him on one of the purple divans.
The attendants now served up a splendid supper, brought in on gold and silver trays, and which consisted of every delicacy that could be procured. It was made up of many courses, and lasted a considerable time, and at its conclusion the room was partially cleared, and a number of dancing girls, of elegant form and richly clad, entered the apartment, and amused the guests with their graceful movements. Azgid, observing a lute lying near him, took it up, and, telling the lady how fond he was of music, begged her to favour him with an air. Perizide complied with his request very graciously, and commenced playing. The Prince listened with delight, and was drinking in the soft strains with rapt attention, when he suddenly heard a loud and very unusual sound.
"What noise is that?" asked the youth.
"I heard nothing," replied his companion; "nor do I think there was any. It is your imagination only that fancies it."
Whereupon she went on playing; but she had only proceeded a few minutes, when the Prince started a second time.
"There it is again!" said he. "Did you not hear it?"
"I heard nothing," answered Perizide, "but the sound of music and the merry voices of hundreds of happy guests. It must be your imagination, Prince, as I said before, and nothing else."
"Perhaps it is," returned the youth, striking his forehead. "You must pardon me, fair lady: I have lately passed through many trying scenes, and I fear my nerves are none of the strongest."
Perizide thereupon resumed her lute, but she had not proceeded very long, when her guest again cried out,
"Oh!" said he, "tell me not that this is imagination! I heard it most distinctly. Explain to me I pray, what it means."
"Oh," replied the young lady, laughing, "that is Boulak, ourblack porter. He is a great pet and a privileged character; he gets drowsy sometimes, and often yawns, and that was the sound you just heard."
"Good Heavens!" said Azgid, "what lungs he must have, to make such a yawn as that!"
Perizide made no reply except a smile, but went on playing the lute, when, having finished, the Prince complimented her highly for her performance. It was by this time pretty late, and the guests gradually retired; Perizide also went to her chamber, and the Prince and the Emir were left alone.
They passed nearly an hour smoking and conversing very pleasantly, till at length the host rose up, and telling his guest it was bed-time, took him by the hand to lead him to his chamber. They proceeded to the hall, and soon reached the great staircase, which was of white marble, with a handsome balustrade on each side. When they came to the foot of it, Azgid gazed for a moment admiring its beauty; but what was his horror, when, on looking up, he spied a black lion of immense size lying stretched on the topmost landing. He trembled and turned pale.
"What is that?" said he, pointing with his finger.
"Oh," returned the Emir, "that is Boulak, our black porter. He is tame, and will not hurt you if you are not afraid of him; but he can tell when any one fears him, and then he becomes ferocious."
"I fear him," whispered the Prince, "and fear him greatly."
"You must cast aside your fear, my son," replied the other, "and then there is not the slightest danger."
"That is easier said than done," answered the youth. "I try to cast it aside, but do not succeed. No, I believe I will not go to my chamber, but will sleep somewhere else, where there is no need of approaching this terrible beast."
"Just as you like," replied the Emir. "You can return to the saloon, and repose on one of those divans."
The Prince accordingly took up his lodgings in the saloon, and having bid his friend "Good night," he carefully locked the door and windows, making everything as secure as possible. He thenlay down on the cushions, listening eagerly if he might perchance hear any sound. But all was silent; for every soul had retired, and the vast mansion presented a striking contrast to the noisy merriment which a little while before had reigned everywhere.
The young man now composed himself to rest, thinking that the lion was most probably fast asleep and would not disturb him—but he was mistaken; for in the course of an hour he heard most evidently a soft, heavy tread coming down the stairs. The beast, on reaching the hall, seemed for a moment to pause; then his steps were heard moving along the vast corridor, till it could be no longer distinguished.
Azgid now breathed more freely, and was in hopes that his tormentor had retired to some secluded part of the building, and had gone to sleep; but he was doomed to be disappointed, for in a short time he heard the faint steps approaching nearer and nearer, and perceived that the beast stopped every now and then, snuffing with his nose, as if in search of some one. At last he came to the door, putting his nose at the lower part, and snuffing louder than ever; then he sprang with his fore feet against it, giving it such a push as almost to burst it open, and at the same time uttering a tremendous roar, which echoed through the palace.
Azgid jumped from his couch in dismay, and retreated to the farthest corner of the room; his hair stood on end, and the cold perspiration rolled from his body. He believed for a certainty that the door would fly open, and then the lion would rush in and devour him; but nothing of the kind occurred, for in a few moments the beast again went upstairs, and nothing more was heard of him.
The Prince then lay down on his couch—but not to sleep: he revolved in his mind all that had happened to him since his departure from his own city, and thinking that Providence would not afflict him in such a manner for nought, but that there must be some design in it, he came to the determination that he would instantly return home, and fulfil the law and custom of his country by fighting the lion.
Early on the morrow, the Emir came to wake his guest, and bidhim "Good morning." He found the young man in tears, and putting his arm round him, thus spoke:
"My son," said he, "your behaviour last night, when about to retire, surprised me greatly, and my amazement is increased now at seeing you in this unhappy state. What ails you, my son? Tell me all, and hide nothing from me; and first let me know frankly who you are?"
"I am one," replied the youth, "who has fled from duty. I am Azgid, son of the renowned King Almamoun. I fled from a work Providence assigned to me to perform—but my sin followed me. I searched far and wide for comfort, but in vain—trouble and disaster pursued me wherever I went. But I have repented, and am now going back to retrieve my error, and meet the trial from which I once endeavoured to escape."
"I am rejoiced to hear you thus speak," said the Emir. "I was well acquainted with your father, and think I know now from what duty it was you tried to escape. Go back, then, to your home, my son, and may Heaven grant you strength to perform your excellent resolution."
He then ordered his guest's horse to be brought, which when the youth hath mounted, he asked his host to remember him to the beautiful Perizide, and beg her to excuse him for leaving her in so strange and abrupt a manner.
"I will do as you desire," replied the other, "and when my daughter learns the cause of your departure, she will think more of you than ever."
Thus with mutual good wishes the two friends separated, and Azgid rode away. He pursued the same route he had travelled before, and on the second day reached the desert and the encampment of the Arabs. He found the Sheik Hajaar, sitting in his tent door, calmly smoking his pipe: the Sheik was surprised at seeing him, and begged him to dismount and refresh himself; but this the Prince refused to do, saying that he had only come to explain his past strange behaviour in leaving his hospitable abode so abruptly.
"I am Azgid," continued he, "son of the renowned KingAlmamoun. I was sorely troubled in mind when I visited you, for I had fled from duty; but I am now going back to retrieve my error and begin a new life. But tell me, I pray, how is that beautiful animal I used to ride with so much pleasure?"
"He is well," answered the other, "and it would please me much if you could remain and ride him again; but I feel that it would be wrong to interrupt you in such a pious journey as you now undertake. Go on, then, my son: may Heaven prosper you in your good resolutions, and peace be with you."
So saying, he bade the Prince farewell, and the latter, having returned his salutation, rode off.
He pursued his course rapidly, and in a day or two arrived at the abode of Oaxus, whom he found in the courtyard, busily engaged in tending his sheep and goats. The old man was delighted to see him, and begged him to dismount; but the Prince declined doing so, and went on to explain who he was in the same words he had used to the Sheik Hajaar. Oaxus was much astonished when he heard the account, and congratulated the young man on the happy change that had come over him.
"Go on, my friend," continued he: "may Heaven prosper you, and give you strength to carry out your wise designs."
"Farewell," replied Azgid, "and tell young Asdril that if fortune favours me, I hope one day to be back, and listen to his sweet music again in spite of the lions."
With these words he rode away, and travelling on, in due time reached his own city. He proceeded at once to the palace, and sought out the old Vizier, to whom he related all that had happened to him, and all that he intended to do, without concealing anything.
"And now," said he, "lead me at once to the lion, and let me fight him and fulfil the law, as all my ancestors have done before me."
The old man heard this speech with great pleasure, and almost wept for joy: he tenderly embraced his young friend, and, smiling, told him not to run into extremes nor to be in too great a hurry; for that his trial with the lion had better be put off for a week at least, and that in the meantime he needed rest and refreshment.To this suggestion Azgid acceded, and waited till the day his friend had fixed upon.
It at length arrived, and very early in the morning the Prince arose and prepared for the combat. He clad himself in a light garment, tying a sash around it, in which he stuck a sharp dagger, took a spear in his hand, and, accompanied by the Vizier, left the palace and proceeded to the mountain. They climbed up the high steps and reached the top, whereupon the slave met them, and, going before, unlocked the gate. The young man looked down and saw the lion, sitting on his haunches, at one end of the arena; he then shook hands with his companions, and committing himself to the care of Heaven, sprang in. The beast gave a loud roar when he saw him, and crouching down, drew himself slowly toward his opponent, glaring fiercely on him all the while. The Prince quailed not, but gazed steadily on the animal, and advanced on him spear in hand; the lion now gave another loud roar, and bounding forward, sprang over the youth's head. He then returned, and commenced licking his hands and rubbing himself against his body.
The Vizier now called out joyfully to his young friend, telling him he had conquered, and begging him to approach; and, with the assistance of the slave, he lifted him out of the den, the lion following like a dog.
"Yes, Azgid," continued the old man, embracing the Prince, "the beast is tame and will injure no one; but, ignorant of this, you encountered him, and the proof of your valour is complete. Come, then, and ascend your throne, for you are worthy of it."
They then began to descend the stairs, and Azgid, observing a couple of figures on the landing, asked the Vizier who they were.
"I know not," replied he; "I can see them, but the height is too great for me to distinguish who they are."
In a little while they reached the platform, when the new-comers proved to be Oaxus and Asdril.
"Azgid," said the old shepherd, "I have come to congratulate you on your good fortune and happy deliverance; and here, too, is young Asdril, whose music you so much admired, and whom I now present to you as your own."
"Oaxus," replied the Prince, "I heartily thank you; and as for you, Asdril, you are no longer a slave: from this moment you are free. You shall be the companion of my leisure hours, and entertain me with your delightful strains."
They now began to descend again; and Azgid, observing a group on the second landing, asked the Vizier who they were.
"I know not," replied he; "I can see them, but the height is too great for me to distinguish who they are."
In a little while they reached the platform, when the new-comers proved to be the Sheik Hajaar, with a group of Arabs, leading the beautiful horse with which the Prince had been so much pleased.
"Azgid," said the Sheik, "I have come to congratulate you on your good fortune and happy deliverance. I have brought you as a present the horse you used to ride when you honoured me with a visit: will your Highness deign to accept of it as a slight testimonial of my loyal regard?"
"Valiant Sheik," answered the young man, "I am rejoiced to see you again, and receive with gratitude your noble gift; you could not have given me anything more acceptable."
He then embraced the Sheik, and kissed the beautiful animal, who seemed to recognize him.
They then began to descend; and the Prince, observing at the bottom of the stairs quite a concourse of people, inquired of the Vizier who they were.
"I know not," replied he; "I can see them, but the height is too great for me to distinguish who they are."
In a little while they reached the end of the staircase, when the new-comers proved to be the Emir, with a large retinue of his guards, with music and banners.
"Azgid," said the Emir, "I am come to congratulate you on your good fortune and happy deliverance. I have brought no present; that I considered needless, since myself and all that I have are yours."
"Noble Emir," cried the youth, "I am rejoiced to see you—tell me, how is Perizide? as soon as I have been crowned I intend to visit her with the speed of lightning."
"There is no need of that," returned the other: "come with me;" and, so saying, he led the young man to a splendid white steed, on which sat a lady, covered with a long veil. The Emir lifted the veil, and Azgid beheld the beautiful face of his beloved mistress.
Their meeting, as may be imagined, was most tender and affectionate; and the Vizier, having ordered the music to strike up, the whole procession moved toward the palace.
"How strange it seems!" said the Prince: "when I fled from my duty everything went wrong with me; but now, after fulfilling it, good luck meets me at every step."
Azgid was crowned the same day, and in the evening his nuptials with the fair Perizide were celebrated; they lived long and happily; and the Prince ordered the story of his life to be written in the annals of the kingdom, and an inscription in gold letters to be placed over the door of the palace, with these words: "Never run from the lion."