The grand vizier endeavoured by many arguments to persuade the sultan not to do as he intended. He represented the great danger to which he exposed himself, and the unnecessary trouble and difficulties he might thus encounter, and probably to no purpose. All his eloquence, however, was exhausted to no effect; the sultan did not alter his resolution, but prepared to set out. He put on a proper dress for walking, and armed himself with a sabre; and as soon as he found that every thing in the camp was quiet, he departed, unaccompanied by any one.
He bent his course towards one of the small hills, which he ascended without much difficulty; and the descent on the other side was still easier. He then pursued his way over a plain, till the sun rose. He now perceived, in the distance before him, a large building, the sight of which filled him with joy, from the hopes of being able to gain some intelligence of what he wished to know. When he came near, he remarked, that it was a magnificent palace, or rather a strong castle, built with polished black marble, and covered with fine steel, so bright, that it was like a mirror. Delighted with having so soon met with something, at least, worthy his curiosity, he stopped opposite the front, and considered it with much attention; he then advanced towards the folding doors, one of which was open. Though he might have gone in, he thought it better to knock. At first, he knocked gently, and waited some time; but finding no one appear, he thought they might not have heard; he therefore knocked a second time much louder; still no one came. He redoubled his efforts, but in vain. At this he was much astonished, as he could not imagine, that a castle, so well built as that was, could be deserted. “If there be no person there,” said the sultan to himself, “I have nothing to fear; and if there be any one, I have arms to defend myself with.”
At last he entered, and when he was in the vestibule, he called out, “Is there no one here to receive a stranger, who is in want of refreshment on his journey?” He repeated it two or three times, as loud as he could; still there was no answer. This silence increased his astonishment. He passed on to a very spacious court, and looking on all sides, he could not discover a living creature. He then entered, and passed through some large halls, the carpets of which were of silk, the recesses and sofas entirely covered with the stuffs of Mecca, and the curtains before the doors of the richest manufactures of India, embroidered with gold and silver. He went on, and came to a most wonderful saloon, in the midst of which there was a large reservoir, with a lion of massive gold at each corner. Streams of water issued from the mouths of the four lions, and in falling, appeared to break in a thousand diamonds and pearls, which formed a good addition to a fountain that sprung from the middle of the bason, and rose almost to the top of a dome, beautifully painted in the arabesque style.
The castle was surrounded on three sides by a garden, which was embellished with all kinds of flowers, fountains, groves, and many other beauties; but what rendered this spot still more enchanting, was the multitude of birds, which filled the air with their sweetest notes. This was their constant habitation, because there were nets thrown entirely over the trees, which prevented their escape.
The sultan continued walking a long time from one apartment to another, where every thing was grand and magnificent. Being rather fatigued, he sat down in an open cabinet, which looked into the garden. Here he meditated upon all he had seen, or might yet see; and was reflecting on the different objects, when suddenly a plaintive voice, accompanied by the most heart-rending cries, struck his ear. He listened attentively, and distinctly heard these melancholy words: “O fortune, thou hast not suffered me long to enjoy my happy lot, but hast rendered me the most wretched of men; cease, I entreat thee, thus to persecute me, and by a speedy death put an end to my sufferings! alas, is it possible I can still exist, after all the torments I have suffered?”
The sultan, much affected by these lamentable complaints, immediately got up, and went towards the spot, whence they issued. He came to the entrance of a large hall; he drew the door-curtain aside, and saw a young man seated upon a sort of throne, raised a little from the ground. He appeared well made and was very richly dressed. Sorrow was impressed on his countenance. The sultan approached and saluted him. The youth returned the compliment by bending his head very low, but did not rise. “I am sure, Sir,” said he to the sultan, “I ought to get up to receive you, and shew you all possible respect, but a most powerful reason prevents me; you will not therefore, I trust, take it ill.”—“I feel myself highly honoured, sir,” replied the sultan, by the good opinion you express of me. Whatever may be your motive for not rising, I willingly receive your apologies. Attracted by your complaints, and impelled by your sufferings, I come to offer you my assistance. I trust I shall be permitted to afford some consolation to you in your misfortunes, and I will use all my endeavours to do so. I flatter myself you will not object to relate the history of your sorrows to me. But, in the first place, I beg of you to inform me, what that pond, which is near this castle, means, where there are fish of four different colours: how also this castle came here, and you thus in it and alone!
Instead of answering these questions, the young man began to weep most bitterly. “How inconstant is fortune,” he cried, “she delights in crushing those whom she has elevated. Who can say they have ever enjoyed from her a life of calm and pure happiness?”
The sultan, touched with compassion at his situation, requested him again to relate the cause of such sorrow: “Alas, my lord,” answered the youth, “can I be otherwise than afflicted, or can these eyes ever cease from shedding tears?” At these words he lifted up his robe, and the sultan perceived he was a man only to his waist, and that from thence to his feet he was changed into black marble.
You may easily imagine, that the sultan was much surprised, when he saw the deplorable state of the young man. “What you shew me,” said he to him, “fills me with horror, but at the same time excites my curiosity; I am impatient to learn your history, which must no doubt be very singular; and I am persuaded, that the pond and the fish have some connexion with it; I entreat you therefore to relate it, and you may find consolation by doing so; for the unhappy often experience some relief in communicating their sorrows.”—“I will not refuse you this satisfaction,” replied the young man, “although I cannot impart it without renewing the most poignant grief; but I must forewarn you to prepare your ears and your mind, nay even your eyes, for what surpasses all conception.”
I must first inform you, (continued he,) that my father, who was called Mahmoud, was the king of this state. It is the kingdom of the Black Isles, which takes its name from four small neighbouring mountains, that were formerly islands; and the capital, where my father resided, was situated on the spot, which is now occupied by that pond. You will know how these changes took place, as I proceed with my history.
The king, my father, died at the age of seventy years. I had no sooner taken his place than I married, and the person whom I chose to partake of the royal dignities with me, was my cousin. I had every reason to be satisfied with the proofs of affection I received from her, and, on my part, I returned them with equal tenderness. Our happy union continued for five years, when I began to perceive that the queen, my cousin, no longer loved me.
One day after dinner, when she was gone to bathe, I felt myself inclined to sleep, and threw myself on a sofa; two of her women, who happened to be in the room, seated themselves, one at my head the other at my feet to fan me, as well for the purpose of refreshing me, as to keep off the flies, which might have disturbed my slumbers. They then, supposing me asleep, began to talk softly; but my eyes were only closed, and I overheard their whole conversation.
“Is it not a pity,” said one of them to the other, “that the queen does not love our king, who is such an amiable prince.”—“Surely it is,” replied the other, “and I cannot conceive why she goes out every night and leaves him; does he not perceive it?”—“How should he perceive it?” resumed the first; “she mixes in his drink, every night, the juice of a certain herb, which makes him sleep all night so profoundly, that she has time to go wherever she likes; and when at break of day she returns to him, she awakes him by passing a particular scent under his nose.”
You may judge, my lord, of the surprise which this discourse occasioned, as well as the sentiments with which it inspired me: nevertheless I had sufficient command over myself to suppress my emotions; I pretended to awake without having heard the conversation.
The queen returned from the bath; we supped together, and before we went to bed she presented me the cup of water, which it was usual for me to take; but instead of drinking it, I approached a window that was open, and threw it out without her perceiving me. I then returned the cup into her own hands, that she might suppose I had drank the contents. We soon retired to rest, and shortly after, supposing that I was asleep, although I was not, she got up with so little precaution, that she said aloud, “Sleep, and mayst thou never wake more.” She dressed quickly, and left the chamber.
The queen had no sooner quitted me than I got up, and dressed myself as quickly as possible, and taking my scimitar, I followed her so closely, that I heard her footsteps just before me, when, regulating my steps by hers, I walked softly for fear of being heard. She passed through several doors, which opened by virtue of some magic words she pronounced; the last she opened was that of the garden, which she entered. I stopped at this door that she might not see me, while she crossed a parterre; and following her with my eyes, as well as the obscurity of the night would permit, I remarked, that she went into a little wood, the walks of which were enclosed by a thick hedge. I repaired thither by another way, and hiding myself behind the hedge of one of the paths, I perceived that she was walking with a man.
I did not fail to listen attentively to their discourse, when I heard what follows: “I do not deserve,” said the queen to her lover, “your reproaches for my want of diligence; you well know the reason of it; but if all the marks of love which I have hitherto given you are not sufficient to persuade you of my sincerity, I am ready to give you still more convincing proofs of it; you have only to command, you know my power. I will if you wish it, before the sun rises, change this great city and this beautiful palace into frightful ruins, which shall be inhabited only by wolves, and owls, and ravens. Shall I transport all the stones, with which these walls are so strongly built, beyond Mount Caucasus, and farther than the boundaries of the habitable world? You have only to speak, and all this place shall be transformed.”
As the queen finished this speech, she and her lover, having reached the end of the walk, turned to enter another, and passed before me; I had already drawn my scimitar, and as the lover was next me, I struck him on the neck, and he fell. I believed I had killed him, and with this persuasion, I retired precipitately, without discovering myself to the queen, whom I wished to spare, as she was my cousin.
Although her lover’s wound was mortal, she yet contrived by her enchantments to preserve in him that kind of existence, which can be called neither dead or alive. As I traversed the garden to return to the palace, I heard the queen weeping bitterly, and judging of her grief by her cries, I was not sorry to have left him alive. When I reached my chamber I went again to bed, and feeling satisfied with the punishment I had inflicted on the wretch who had offended me, I fell asleep. On waking the next morning, I found the queen by my side; I cannot say whether she was asleep or feigned it, but I got up without disturbing her, and retired to my closet, where I finished dressing: I afterwards attended the council; and, on my return, the queen, dressed in mourning, her hair dishevelled and torn, presented herself before me. “Sire,” said she, “I come to entreat your majesty not to be displeased at the state in which you now see me. I have just received intelligence of three events, which occasion the grief I so strongly feel, but can ill express.”—“What are these events, madam?” I inquired.—“The death of the queen, my beloved mother,” replied she; “that of the king, my father, who was killed in battle; and also of my brother, who fell down a precipice.”
I was not sorry that she had invented this pretext to conceal the true cause of her affliction, and I imagined, that she did not suspect me of having been the murderer of her lover. “Madam,” said I, “I do not blame your sorrow; on the contrary, I assure you that I am not insensible to the cause. I should be much surprised if you were not affected by such a loss; weep, for your tears are an undoubted proof of your good heart; I hope, nevertheless, that time and reason will restore to you your wonted cheerfulness.”
She retired to her apartment, where, abandoning herself to her grief, she passed a whole year in weeping and bewailing the death of her lover. At the expiration of that time, she requested my permission to build a mausoleum for herself in the centre of the palace, where she said she wished to pass the remainder of her days. I did not refuse her, and she erected a magnificent palace with a dome, which may be seen from hence, and she called it the Palace of Tears.
When it was finished, she had her lover removed from the place, whither she had transported him on the night I wounded him, and brought to this mausoleum. She had till that period preserved his life by giving him certain potions, which she administered herself, and continued to give him daily, after his removal to the Palace of Tears.
All her enchantments, however, did not avail, for he was not only unable to walk or stand, but had also lost the use of his speech, and gave no signs of life, but by looks. Although the queen had only the consolation of seeing him and saying to him all the tender things that her love inspired, yet she constantly paid him two long visits every day. I was well acquainted with this circumstance, but I pretended to be ignorant of it.
Excited by my curiosity, I went one day to the Palace of Tears, to know what was the occupation of the princess, and concealing myself in a part where I could see and hear what passed, I heard her speak in this manner to her lover: “It is the heaviest affliction to me to see you in this state; I feel as much as yourself the agonies you endure; but, dearest life, I am always speaking to you, and yet you return no answer: how long will this distressing silence continue? Speak but once, and I will be satisfied. Alas! these moments that I pass with you, endeavouring to mitigate your sufferings, are the happiest of my life. I cannot exist away from you, and I should willingly prefer the pleasure of seeing you continually, to the empire of the whole universe.”
This discourse, which was frequently interrupted by tears and sobs, at length exhausted my patience. I could no longer remain in concealment, and approaching her, “Madam,” said I, “you have wept enough; it is now time to have done with a grief, which dishonours us both; you forgot what you owe to me, as well as what you owe to yourself.”—“Sire,” replied she, “if you still retain any regard for me, I entreat you to leave me to my sorrows, which time can neither diminish nor relieve.”
I endeavoured, but in vain, to bring her to a sense of her duty; and finding that all my arguments only increased her obstinacy, I at last desisted and left her. She continued to visit her lover every day; and for two years she was inconsolable.
I went a second time to the Palace of Tears while she was there. I hid myself as before, and heard her say, “It is now three years that you have not spoken to me; nor do you return the proofs of affection and fondness which my complaints and sighs must convince you I feel: is it from insensibility or disdain? Hast thou, O tomb, destroyed that excess of tenderness which he bore me? Hast thou closed for ever those dear eyes which beamed with love and formed all my pleasure? Ah no, I cannot think it; rather let me say, thou art become the deposit of the rarest treasure the world ever saw.”
I avow to you, my lord, that I was enraged at these words; for in truth this cherished lover, this adored mortal, was not at all what you would imagine. He was a black Indian, one of the original inhabitants of this country. I was, as I have said, so enraged at this speech, that I suddenly shewed myself, and addressing myself in a similar manner to the tomb, I said, “Why dost thou not, O tomb, swallow up this monster, who is even disgusting to human nature? or rather, why dost thou not consume both the lover and the mistress?”
I had hardly finished these words, when the queen, who was seated near the black, started up like a fury, “Ah, wretch!” said she to me, “it is you who have been the cause of my grief; think not that I am ignorant of it. I have already dissembled too long. It was your barbarous hand which reduced the object of my affection to the miserable state he now is in. And have you the cruelty to come and insult my despair?” “Yes,” cried I, interrupting her, and transported with anger, “I have chastised the monster as he deserved, and I ought to treat thee in the same manner. I repent not having already done it, for thou hast too long abused my goodness.” In saying this, I drew my scimitar, and raised my arm to punish her. “Moderate thy rage,” said she to me with a disdainful smile, and regarding my motions with a tranquil air, and at the same instant she pronounced some words which I did not understand, and added, “By virtue of my enchantments, I command thee from this moment to become half marble and half man.” Immediately, my lord, I was changed to what you see me; already dead among the living, and living among the dead.
As soon as this cruel enchantress, for she is unworthy of bearing the title of queen, had thus transformed me, and by means of her magic had conveyed me to this apartment, she destroyed my capital, which was both flourishing and well inhabited; she annihilated the palaces, public places, and markets; turned the whole place into a lake, or pond, and rendered the country, as you may perceive, quite a desert. The four sorts of fish, which are in the pond, are four different classes of inhabitants, who professed different religions, and inhabited the capital. The white were Musselmen; the red, Persians, who worship fire; the blue, Christians; and the yellow, Jews; the four little hills were four islands; whence the name of the kingdom originated. I was informed of all this by the enchantress, who herself related the effects of her rage. Nor was even this all; she did not confine her fury to the destruction of my empire, and to my enchantment, for she comes every day and gives me a hundred blows with a thong, made of a bull’s hide, upon my shoulders, from whence she draws blood at every stroke. As soon as she has finished this punishment, she covers me with a thick stuff, made of goat’s hair; and puts a robe of rich brocade over it, not for the sake of honouring, but of mocking me.” In saying this, the young king of the Black Isles could not refrain from tears; and the sultan’s heart was so oppressed, he could not offer him any consolation. The young king then, lifting up his eyes towards Heaven, exclaimed, “I submit, O powerful Creator of all things, to thy judgments, and to the decrees of thy providence. Since it is thy pleasure, I patiently suffer every evil; yet I trust thy infinite goodness will one day recompense me.”
“Inform me,” cried the sultan, affected by the recital of so strange a story, and eager to revenge his injuries, “inform me where this perfidious enchantress resides, and where also is this infamous paramour, whom she has entombed before his death. “My lord,” answered the prince, “he, as I have before mentioned, is at the Palace of Tears, in a tomb, formed like a dome; and this palace has a communication with the castle on the side towards the entrance. I cannot exactly tell you to what spot the enchantress has retired; but she visits her lover every day at sun-rise, after having inflicted on me the sanguinary punishment I related: and you may easily judge, that I cannot defend myself from such great cruelty. She always brings with her a sort of liquor, which is the only thing that is able to keep him alive; and she never ceases to complain of the silence which he has invariably kept since he was wounded.”
“No one, prince,” replied the sultan, “deserves greater commisseration than yourself; nor can any one be more sensible of your misfortune than I am. A more extraordinary fate can never have happened to any; and they, who may hereafter compose your history, will be able to relate an event the most surprising of any hitherto recorded. One thing only is wanting to complete it, and that is for you to be revenged: nor will I leave any thing untried to accomplish it.” The sultan having first informed the prince who he was, and the reason of his entering the castle, consulted with him on the best means of affording him a just revenge; and a plan occurred to the sultan, which he directly communicated. They then agreed upon the steps it was necessary to take, in order to insure success; and they deferred the execution of the plan till the following day. In the mean time, as the night was far advanced, the sultan took some repose. The young prince, as usual, passed his time in continual watchfulness; for he was unable to sleep since his enchantment: the hopes, however slight, which he cherished of being soon relieved from his sufferings constantly occupied his thoughts.
The sultan rose as soon as it was day; and having concealed his robe and external dress, which might incumber him, he went to the Palace of Tears. He found it illuminated by a multitude of torches of white wax; and a delicious perfume issuing from various beautiful golden vases, regularly arranged, struck his senses. As soon as he perceived the bed on which the black was laid, he drew his sabre, and destroyed, without resistance, the little remains of life in this wretch. He then dragged the body into the court of the castle, and threw it into a well. Having done this he returned, and laid down in the black’s place, hiding his sabre under the covering, and remained there in order to complete what he projected. The enchantress arrived soon after: her first business was to go into the apartment where the king of the Black Isles, her husband, was. She directly stripped him, and, with unexampled barbarity, began to inflict upon his shoulders the accustomed number of blows. The poor prince filled the whole building with his cries, and conjured her in the most pathetic manner to have pity on him: the wretch, however, ceased not to beat him till she had completed the hundred. “Thou hadst no compassion on my lover,” said she, “expect therefore none from me.” As soon as she had finished, she threw the coarse garment made of goat-skin over him, and then the robe of brocade. She next went to the Palace of Tears; and, on entering, began to renew her lamentations. When she approached the couch where she thought her lover always remained, she exclaimed, “What cruelty to have thus destroyed the tranquil joy of so tender and fond a mistress as I am! Cruel prince, thou reproachest me with being inhuman, when I make thee feel the effects of my resentment, and has not thy barbarity far exceeded my revenge? Hast thou not, traitor, in destroying almost the existence of so adorable an object, equally destroyed mine? Alas!” added she, addressing herself to the sultan, whom she took for the black, “will you always, light of my life, preserve this silence? Are you resolved to let me die without the consolation of hearing you again declare you love me. Utter, at least, one word, I conjure you.”
The sultan then, pretending to awake from a profound sleep, and imitating the language of the blacks, answered the queen in a solemn tone. “There is no strength or power, but in God alone, who is all-powerful.” At these words the enchantress, to whom they were unexpected, gave a violent scream through excess of joy. “My dear lord,” she exclaimed, “do you deceive me: is what I hear true? Is it really you who speak?”—“Wretched woman,” replied the sultan, “are you worthy of an answer?”—“What!” cried the queen, “do you reproach me?”—“The cries, the tears, the groans of thy husband,” answered the supposed black, “whom you every day beat with so much indignity and barbarity, continually prevent my rest: I should have been cured long since, and recovered the use of my tongue, if you had disenchanted him. This, and this only, is the cause of my silence, and of which you so severely complain.”—“Well then,” said the enchantress, “to satisfy you, I am ready to do what you command: do you wish him to reassume his first form?”—“Yes,” replied the sultan, “and hasten to set him free, that I may no longer be disturbed by his cries.”
The queen immediately went out from the Palace of Tears; and taking a vessel of water, she pronounced over it some words, which caused it instantly to boil, as if it had been placed on a fire. She proceeded to the apartment, where the young king, her husband, was; “If the creator of all things,” said she, throwing the water over him, “hath formed thee as thou now art, or if he is angry with thee, do not change; but if thou art in that state by virtue of my inchantment, reassume thy natural form, and become the same as before.” She had hardly concluded, when the prince, recovering his first shape, rose up with all possible joy, and returned thanks to God. “Go,” said the enchantress, addressing him, “hasten from this castle, and never return, lest it should cost you your life.”—The young king yielded to necessity, and left the queen without replying a word. He concealed himself in some secure spot, where he impatiently waited the completion of the sultan’s design, the commencement of which had been so successful.
The enchantress then returned to the Palace of Tears; and on entering said to him whom she supposed to be the black, “I have done, my love, what you ordered me; nothing, therefore, now prevents your getting up, and affording me the satisfaction I have so long been deprived of.” The sultan, still imitating the language of the blacks, answered in rather a sharp tone, “What you have yet done is not sufficient for my cure. You have destroyed only a part of the evil: but you must strike at the root.”—“What do you mean by the root, my amiable black?” answered she.—“What can I mean,” he cried, “but the city and its inhabitants, and the four isles, which you have destroyed by your magic? Every day towards midnight the fish constantly raise their heads out of the pond, and call for vengeance against us both. This is the real cause of the delay of my recovery. Go quickly and re-establish every thing in its former state; and on thy return I will give you my hand, and you shall assist me in rising.”
The queen, exulting in the expectations these words produced, joyfully exclaimed, “You shall soon then, my life, recover your health; for I will instantly go and do what you have commanded.” In fact she went the very next moment, and when she arrived on the border of the pond, she took a little water in her hand and scattered it about. She had no sooner done so, and pronounced certain words over the fish and the pond, than the city instantly appeared. The fish became men, women, and children; Mahometans, Christians, Persians, and Jews; freemen or slaves; in short, each took his natural form. The houses and shops became filled with inhabitants, who found every thing in the same situation and order in which they were previous to the change. The officers and attendants of the sultan, who were very numerous, and who were encamped directly where the great place, or square, happened to be, were astonished at finding themselves on a sudden in the midst of a large, well-built, and inhabited city.
But to return to the enchantress: as soon as she had completed this change she hastened back to the Palace of Tears, to enjoy the reward of her labours. “My dear lord,” she cried on entering, “I am returned to participate in the pleasure of your renewed health, for I have done all you have required of me; arise, and give me your hand.”—“Come near then,” said the sultan, still imitating the manner of the blacks. She did so. “Nearer still,” he cried. She obeyed. Then raising himself up, he seized her so suddenly by the arms, that she had no opportunity of recognizing who it was; and with one stroke of his sabre, he separated her body in two, which fell on each side of him. Having done this, he left the carcase in the same place, and went to seek for the prince of the Black Isles, who waited with the greatest impatience for him. “Rejoice, prince,” said he, embracing him, “you have nothing more to fear; for your cruel enemy no longer exists.”
The young prince thanked the sultan in a way which proved that his heart was truly penetrated with gratitude; and as a reward, for the important service he had rendered him, he wished him a long life and the greatest prosperity. “May you, too, live happily and at peace in your capital,” replied the sultan to him, “and should you hereafter have a wish to visit mine, which is so near, I shall receive you with the truest pleasure; and you shall be as highly honoured and respected as in your own.”—“Powerful monarch,” answered the prince, “to whom I am so much indebted, do you think you are very near your capital?”—“Certainly,” replied the sultan, “I think so, at least that I am not more than four or five hours journey.”—“It is a whole year’s journey,” added the prince, “although I believe you might come here in the time you mention, because mine was enchanted; but since it is no longer so, things are changed. This, however, shall not prevent my following you, were it necessary to go to the very extremity of the earth. You are my liberator; and to shew you every mark of my gratitude as long as I live, I shall freely accompany you and resign my kingdom without regret.”
The sultan was extremely surprised to find that he was so distant from his dominions, and could not comprehend how it happened; but the young king of the Black Isles convinced him so fully of the possibility, that he no longer doubted it.—“It matters not then,” resumed the sultan; “the trouble of returning to my dominions will be sufficiently recompensed by the satisfaction arising from having assisted you, and from having acquired a son in you; for, as you will do me the honor to accompany me, I shall look upon you as such; and having no children of my own, I from this moment make you my heir and successor.”—This interview between the sultan and the king of the Black Isles was terminated by the most affectionate embraces; after which the young prince prepared for his journey. In three weeks he was ready to depart, greatly regretted by his court and subjects, who received from his hands a near relation of his as their king.
At length the sultan and the prince set out with a hundred camels laden with inestimable riches, which had been selected from the treasury of the young king, who was accompanied by fifty handsome nobles, well mounted and equipped. Their journey was a pleasant one; and when the sultan, who had dispatched couriers to give notice of his arrival, and relate the reason of his delay, drew near to his capital, the principal officers, whom he had left there, came to receive him; and to assure him, that his long absence had not occasioned any change in his empire. The inhabitants, also, crowded to meet him, and welcome him with acclamations and every demonstration of joy, which lasted for several days.
The day after his arrival, the sultan assembled his courtiers, and gave them an ample detail of the occurrences, which, contrary to his wishes, had delayed his return: he then declared to them his intention of adopting the king of the four Black Isles, who had left a large kingdom to accompany and live with him; and at last, to reward the fidelity with which they served him, he bestowed presents on all, according to their rank and station.
With regard to the fisherman, as he had been the first cause of the deliverance of the young prince, the sultan overwhelmed him with rewards, and made him and his family happy and comfortable for the rest of their days.
During the reign of the Caliph Haroun Alraschid there lived at Bagdad a porter, who, notwithstanding his low and laborious profession, was nevertheless a man of wit and humour. One morning, when he was standing with a large basket before him, in a place where he usually waited for employment, a young lady of a fine figure, covered with a large muslin veil, came up to him, and said with a pleasing air, “Porter, take up your basket and follow me.” The porter, delighted with these few words, pronounced in so agreeable a manner, put it on his head and went after the lady, saying, “Oh happy day! Oh happy meeting!”
The lady stopped at a closed door, and knocked. A venerable Christian, with a long white beard, opened it, and she put some money into his hands without saying a single word; but the Christian, who knew what she wanted, went in, and shortly after brought out a large jar of excellent wine. “Take this jar,” said the lady to the porter, “and put it in the basket.” This being done, she desired him to follow her, and walked on; the porter still exclaiming, “Oh day of happiness! Oh day of agreeable surprise and joy!”
The lady stopped at the shop of a seller of fruits and flowers, where she chose various sorts of apples, apricots, peaches, lemons, citrons, oranges, myrtles, sweet basil, lilies, jessamine, and some other sweet-scented flowers and plants. She told the porter to put all those things in his basket, and follow her. Passing by a butcher’s shop, she ordered five and twenty pounds of his finest meat to be weighed, which was also put into the porter’s basket.
At another shop she bought some capers, tarragon, small cucumbers, parsley, and other herbs, pickled in vinegar: at another, some pistachios, walnuts, hazel-nuts, almonds, kernels of the pine, and other similar fruits: at a third she purchased all sorts of almond patties. The porter, in putting all these things into his basket, which began to fill it, said; “My good lady, you should have told me, that you intended buying so many things, and I would have provided a horse, or rather a camel, to carry them. I shall have more than I can lift, if you add much to what is already here.” The lady laughed at this speech, and again desired him to follow her.
She then went into a druggist’s, where she furnished herself with all sorts of sweet-scented waters, with cloves, nutmeg, pepper, ginger, a large piece of ambergris, and several other Indian spices, which completely filled the porter’s basket, whom she still ordered to follow her. He did so, till they arrived at a magnificent house, the front of which was ornamented with handsome columns, and at the entrance was a door of ivory. Here they stopped, and the lady gave a gentle knock at the door. While they waited for it to be opened, the porter’s mind was filled with a thousand different thoughts. He was surprised that a lady dressed as this was, should perform the office of housekeeper, for he conceived it impossible for her to be a slave. Her air was so noble, that he supposed her free, if not a person of distinction. He was wishing to ask her some questions concerning her quality and situation, but just as he was preparing to speak, another female who opened the door, appeared to him so beautiful, that he was silent through astonishment, or rather he was so struck with the brilliancy of her charms, that he was very near letting his basket and all that was in it fall; so much did this object make him forget himself. He thought he had never seen any beauty in his whole life that equalled her who was before him. The lady who had brought the porter, observed the disturbed state of his mind, and well knew the cause of it. This discovery diverted her; and she took so much pleasure in examining the countenance of the porter, that she forgot the door was open. “Come in, sister,” said the beautiful portress, “what do you wait for? Don’t you see that this poor man is so heavily laden he can hardly bear it?”
As soon as she and the porter were come in, the lady who opened the door shut it; and all three, after passing through a handsome vestibule, crossed a very spacious court, surrounded by an open gallery, or corridor, which communicated with many magnificent apartments, all on the same floor. At the bottom of this court there was a sort of cabinet, richly furnished, with a throne of amber in the middle, supported by four ebony pillars, enriched with diamonds and pearls of an extraordinary size, and covered with red satin, relieved by a bordering of Indian gold, of admirable workmanship. In the middle of the court there was a large basin lined with white marble, and full of the finest transparent water, which rushed from the mouth of a lion of gilt bronze.
Although the porter was so laden it did not prevent him from admiring the magnificence of this house, and the neatness and regularity with which every thing was arranged; but what principally attracted his attention, was a third lady, who appeared still more beautiful than the second, and who was seated on the throne before mentioned. As soon as she perceived the other two females, she came down from the throne, and advanced towards them. The porter conjectured, from the looks and behaviour of the two first ladies, that this was the principal personage; and he was not mistaken. This lady was called Zobeidè; she who opened the door was called Safiè, and the name of the one who had been for the provisions, was Aminè.
“You do not, my dear sisters,” said Zobeidè, accosting the other two, “perceive that this man is almost fainting under his load? Why do you not discharge him?” Aminè and Safiè then took the basket, one before and the other behind; Zobeidè also assisted, and all three put it on the ground. They then began to empty it, and when they had done, the agreeable Aminè took out her purse, and rewarded the porter very liberally. He was well satisfied with what he received, and was taking up his basket to go, but could not muster sufficient resolution, so much was he delighted by the sight of three such rare beauties, who now appeared to him equally charming; for Aminè had also taken off her veil, and he found her quite as handsome as the others. The thing that puzzled him most, was not seeing any man in the house; and yet a great part of the provisions he brought, such as dried fruits, cakes, and sweetmeats, were most adapted to those who wish to drink much and feast.
Zobeidè at first thought the porter was waiting to get breath, but observing him remain a long time, she asked him what he waited for, and whether he was sufficiently paid. “Give him something more,” added she, speaking to Aminè, “and let him be satisfied.”—“Madam,” answered the porter, “it is not that which detains me; I am already almost too well paid for my trouble. I know very well that I am guilty of an incivility in staying where I ought not; but I hope you will have the goodness to pardon it, from the astonishment I experience in observing no man among three ladies of such uncommon beauty. A party of ladies without men is as melancholy and stupid as a party of men without ladies.” To this he added some pleasantries in proof of what he advanced. He did not forget to repeat what they say at Bagdad, that there was no comfort at table unless there were four; and he concluded by saying that as they were three, they had the greatest want of a fourth.
The ladies laughed heartily at the reasoning of the porter. Zobeidè, however, then addressed him in a serious manner. “You carry your fooleries, my friend, a little too far; but though you do not deserve that I should enter into any explanation with you, I will at once inform you, that we are three sisters, who arrange all our affairs so secretly, that no one knows any thing of them. We have too great reason to fear a discovery to permit us to impart our arrangements; and an established author whom we have read, says,Keep thy own secret, and tell it to no one; for he who reveals a secret is no longer master of it. If thy own breast cannot contain thy secret, how can the breast of him to whom you intrust it?”
“Ladies,” replied the porter, “from your appearance alone I thought you possessed a singular degree of merit; and I perceive that I am not mistaken. Although fortune has not been so propitious to me, as to bring me up to any profession, superior to the one I follow, yet I have cultivated my mind as much as I was able by reading books of science and history; and permit me, I entreat, to say, that I also have read in another a maxim which I have always happily practised;Conceal your secret,he says,only from such as are known to be indiscreet, and who will abuse your confidence; but make no difficulty in discovering it to prudent men, because they know how to keep it.The secret, then, with me is as safe as locked up in a cabinet, the key of which is lost, and the door sealed.”
Zobeidè saw that the porter was not deficient in cleverness, but thinking that he was desirous of being at the entertainment they were going to have, she good-humouredly replied, “You know that we are preparing to regale ourselves, and you must also know we cannot do this but at a considerable expense; and it would not be just that you should partake of the feast without bearing part of the costs.” The beautiful Safiè was of the same opinion as her sister. “My friend,” she said to the porter, “have you never heard the common saying, if you bring something you shall return with something; if you bring nothing, you shall carry nothing back?”
The porter would have been obliged to retire in confusion in spite of his rhetoric, had it not been for Aminè, who took his part very strongly: “My dear sisters,” she said to Zobeidè and Safiè, “I entreat you to permit him to remain with us. It is unnecessary to tell you he will divert us, for you must see he is capable of it. I assure you that had it not been for his readiness, quickness, and courage to follow me, I should not have executed so many commissions in so short a time. Besides, if I were to repeat to you all the amusing things he said to me on the way, you would not be much surprised that I am become his advocate.”
At this speech of Aminè’s, the porter in a transport of joy fell on his knees and kissed the ground at the feet of this charming female. “My dear lady,” said he, raising himself, “you have from this moment begun my happiness, and placed it almost at its summit by so generous an act, for which I can never sufficiently express my gratitude. In short, ladies,” added he, addressing the three sisters at once, “do not suppose, because you have done me so great an honor, that I will abuse it; and that I shall consider myself as a man who is worthy of it; on the contrary, I shall ever regard myself as the humblest of your slaves.” In saying this he wished to return the money he had received, but the grave Zobeidè ordered him to keep it. “What we have once given,” she said, “as a recompense to those who have rendered us any service, never returns. But in agreeing that you should remain with us, it is not only on condition that you keep the secret we are going to intrust you with, but we also require, that you shall strictly observe the rules of propriety and decorum.” While she was speaking, the beautiful Aminè took off her walking dress, and fastening her robe to her girdle, in order to be more at liberty to prepare the table, she placed on it various kinds of meat, and put some bottles of wine, and several golden cups upon a sideboard. This done, the ladies seated themselves round the table, and made the porter place himself by their side, who was delighted beyond measure, at seeing himself at table with three persons of such extraordinary beauty.
They had scarcely began to eat, when Aminè, who had placed herself near the buffet, or sideboard, took a bottle and goblet, and poured some for herself. Having drank the first glass, according to the Arabian custom, she then poured out one for each of her sisters, who drank it one after the other. Then filling the same goblet for the fourth time, she presented it to the porter, who in taking it, kissed her hand, and before he drank it he sung a song, the meaning of which was, that as the wind carried with it the odour of any perfumed spot over which it passed, so the wine, which he was about to drink, coming from her hand acquired a more exquisite flavour than it naturally possessed. This song pleased them very much, and they each sung in their turn. In short the whole company were in most excellent spirits during the repast, which lasted a long time, and was accompanied with every thing that could render it agreeable.
The day began to close, when Safiè, in the name of her sisters, said to the porter, “Arise, and go it; is time to retire.” To this the porter, not having resolution to quit them, answered, “Ah, ladies, where would you command me to go in the state I am in? I am almost beside myself from gazing on you, and the good cheer you have given me; and I shall never find the way to my own house. Allow me the night to recover myself in; I will pass it wherever you please, but less time will not restore me to the state I was in, when I came here; and even then I doubt I shall leave the better part of myself behind.”
Aminè again took the part of the porter: “He is right, my sister,” she exclaimed; “I am convinced of the propriety of his demand. He has sufficiently diverted us; and if you wish to believe me, or rather if you love me, I am sure you will suffer him to pass the evening with us.”—“We cannot refuse any request of yours, my sister,” replied Zobeidè. “Porter,” she added, addressing herself to him; “we wish to grant you even this favour, but we must premise a fresh condition: whatever we may do in your presence, with respect to yourself or any thing else, take great care that you do not ask the reason; for in questioning us about things that do not at all concern you, you may hear what will not please you. Take care, therefore, and be not too curious in attempting to discover the motives of our actions.”
“Madam,” replied the porter, “I promise to observe the conditions with so much exactitude, that you shall have no reason to reproach me with having infringed them, and even still less to punish my indiscretion. My tongue shall be motionless; and my eyes shall be like a mirror, that preserves no part of the objects it receives.”—“To let you see,” said Zobeidè, with a serious air, “that what we require of you is not newly established among us, observe what is written over the door, on the inside.” The porter went and read these words, which were written in large letters of gold, whoever talks about whatDOES NOT CONCERN HIM, OFTEN HEARS WHAT DOESnot please him! He came back directly, and said to the three sisters, “I swear to you, ladies, that you shall not hear me speak a word concerning any thing which does not regard me, and in which you have any interest.”
This being settled, Aminè brought supper; and when she had lighted up the hall with numerous candles prepared with aloes and ambergris, which scattered a very agreeable perfume, and cast a brilliant light, she seated herself at the table with her sisters and the porter. They began to eat, drink, sing, and recite verses. The females took pleasure in making the porter intoxicated, under the pretence of making him drink to their health. Wit and repartee were not wanting. They were at length all in the best humour, when they heard a knocking at the gate. They instantly got up, and all run to open it; but Safiè, to whom this office more particularly belonged, was the most active. The other two, seeing her before them, stopped, and waited till she came back to inform them who could have any business with them at so late an hour. Safiè soon returned. “A charming opportunity, my sisters, offers itself to spend great part of the night very pleasantly, and if you are of the same opinion as I am, we will not let it escape us. There are three calenders at the door; at least they appear so by their dress; but what will doubtless surprise you is, that they are all three blind of the right eye, and have their heads, beards, and eyebrows shaved. They say, they are only just arrived at Bagdad, where they have never been before, and as it is dark, and they knew not where to lodge, they knocked at our door by chance; and entreat us for the love of God, to have the charity to take them in. They care not where we put them, provided they are under cover; and will be satisfied even with a stable. They are young and well-made and appear to possess some spirit, but I cannot without laughing, think of their amusing and uniform figures. Safiè could not indeed refrain from laughing most heartily at this moment, nor could either her sisters or the porter do otherwise than join in it. “Shall we,” said she, “let them come in? It is impossible but that with such men as I have described, we shall finish the day still better than we begun it. They will divert us very much, and they will be no expense to us, since they only ask a lodging for one night, and it is their intention to leave us as soon as it is day.”
Zobeidè and Aminè made some difficulty in agreeing to the request of Safiè; and she herself well knew the reason of it: but expressed so great a desire to have her way, that they could not refuse her. “Go,” said Zobeidè to her, “and let them come in, but do not fail to caution them not to speak about what does not concern them, and make them read the inscription over the inside of the door. At these words, Safiè joyfully ran to open the door, and soon returned, accompanied by the three calenders.
On entering they made a low bow to the sisters, who had risen to receive them; and who obligingly told them they were welcome, and that they were happy in being able to oblige them, and contribute towards lessening the fatigue of their journey. They then invited their new guests to sit down with them. The magnificence of the place and the kindness of the ladies gave the calenders a very high idea of the beautiful hostess and her sisters; but before they took their places, having by chance cast their eyes towards the porter, and observing that he was dressed very like other calenders, from whom they differed in many points of discipline, and whose beard and eyebrows were not shaved, one of them said, “This man appears to be one of our Arabian brethren, who revolted.”
The porter, half asleep and heated with the wine he had drunk, was much disturbed at these words; and without getting up he said to the calenders, casting at the same time a fierce look at them, “Seat yourselves, and meddle not with what does not concern you. Have you not read the inscription over the door? Do not pretend then to make the world live after your fashion; but live according to ours.”—“My good friend,” replied the calender, who had before spoken, “do not be angry, for we should be very sorry to give you any cause; on the contrary, we are ready to receive your commands.” The dispute would not have ended here had not the ladies interfered, and pacified all parties.
When the calenders were seated, the sisters helped them, and the delighted Safiè in particular took care to supply them with wine. When they had both eaten and drunk as much as they wished, they intimated that they should be happy to give them some music, if they had any instruments, and would order them to be brought. They accepted the offer with pleasure; and the beautiful Safiè immediately got up to enquire after some, and returned the next moment and offered them a flute of that country, also another used in Persia, and a tambour de basque. Each calender received from her hand that instrument he liked best, and they all began to play a little air. The females were acquainted with the words, which were very lively, and accompanied the air with their voices: frequently interrupting each other with fits of laughter from the nature of the words.
In the midst of this entertainment, and when the party were highly delighted, they heard a knock at the door. Safiè immediately left off singing, and went to see who it was.
“But I must now inform you, Sire,” said Scheherazadè to the sultan, in this place, “that it is proper for your majesty to know how any one came to knock so late at the door of this house. The caliph Haroun Alraschid made it a practice to go very often, during the night, through the city in disguise, in order to discover whether every thing was quiet. On this evening, therefore, the caliph set out from his palace, at his accustomed hour, accompanied by Giafar, his grand vizier, and Mesrour, chief of the eunuchs, all three disguised as merchants. In passing through the street where these ladies lived, the prince heard the sound of the instruments, interrupted by laughter, and said to his vizier, “Go and knock at the door of that house, where I hear so much noise; I wish to gain admittance, and learn the cause of it.” The vizier endeavoured to persuade the caliph that they were only women, who were making merry that evening, and the wine seemed to have exhilirated their spirits; and that they ought not to expose themselves, where it was probable they might meet with some insult; besides, the time, he said, was improper, and it was useless to disturb their amusements. “Never mind,” said the caliph, “knock as I order you.”
It was, then, the grand vizier Giafar who had knocked at the door by order of the caliph, who wished not to be known. Safiè opened it, and the vizier observed, by the light of a candle she carried, that she was very beautiful. He played his part very well. He first made a most profound reverence, and then, with a respectful air, he said, “Madam, we are three merchants of Moussoul, and arrived here about ten days ago, with some very rich merchandise, which we have deposited in a khan; where we have taken up our lodging. We have been to spend the day with a merchant of this city, who had invited us to go to see him. He treated us with a fine collation; and as the wine we drunk put us into a very good humour, he sent for a company of dancers. The night was already far advanced, and while we were playing on our instruments, the others dancing, and the whole company making a great noise, the watch happened to pass by, and obliged us to open the door. Some of the company were arrested: we were however so fortunate as to escape, by getting over a wall. But,” added the vizier, “as we are strangers, and have taken perhaps rather more wine than we ought, we are afraid of meeting with a second party of the watch, or perhaps the same before we arrive at our khan, which is at a considerable distance from hence. And we should even then get there to no purpose, for the gate would be shut, and whoever may come there, they will not open it till morning. This is the reason, madam, that as we heard, in passing by, the sound of instruments and voices, we thought all those who belonged to the house were not yet retired, and we took the liberty to knock, to beg you to afford us a retreat till the morning. If we appear to you worthy of taking a part in your amusements, we will endeavour, as far as we are able, to contribute to it, in order to repair the interruption we have caused; if not, do us at least the favor to suffer us to pass the night under the cover of your vestibule.”
During this speech of Giafar, the beautiful Safiè had an opportunity of examining the vizier and the two persons whom he also called merchants, and judging from their countenances that they were not common men, she said that she was not mistress, but if they would give themselves a moment’s patience she would return and bring the answer. Safiè went and related all this to her sisters, who hesitated some time as to what they ought to do. But they were naturally kind, and as they had conferred the same favor on the three calenders, they resolved to permit these also to come in. The caliph, the grand vizier, and the chief of the eunuchs, being introduced by the beautiful Safiè, saluted the ladies and the calenders with great civility. They, supposing them merchants, returned it in the same manner; and Zobeidè, as the principal person, with that grave and serious air which so well suited her, said, “You are welcome, but in the first place do not take it ill if we ask of you one favor.”—“What favor,” cried the vizier, “can we refuse to such beautiful ladies!”—“It is,” replied Zobeidè, “to have only eyes and no speech; to forbear from asking questions about what you may see, in order to learn the cause; and not to speak about what does not concern you, for fear you should hear what will not be pleasant to you.”—“You shall be obeyed, madam,” replied the vizier; “for we are neither censurers nor curious imprudent persons. It is enough for us to attend to our own business without meddling with what does not regard us.” After this each seated himself, and the conversation became general; and they drank to the health of the new guests.
While the vizier Giafar entertained them, the caliph ceased not from admiring the extraordinary beauty, the great elegance, the lively disposition and spirit of the ladies; while the appearance of the three calenders, all blind of the right eye, surprised him very much. He anxiously wished to learn the cause of this singularity, but the conditions they had imposed upon him and his companions, prevented any inquiry. Besides all this, when he reflected upon the richness of the services and furniture; with the regularity and arrangement every where apparent, he could hardly persuade himself it was not the effect of enchantment.
The conversation having fallen upon the various sorts of amusement, and the different modes of enjoying life, the calenders got up and danced in their peculiar way, which much augmented the good opinion the ladies had already conceived of them; and attracted also the applause and esteem of the caliph and his company. As soon as the calenders had finished, Zobeidè got up, and taking Aminè by the hand, said to her, “Come, sister, the company shall not think that we will put them under any restraint; nor shall their presence prevent us from doing as we have always been accustomed.” Aminè, who perfectly understood what her sister meant, got up and took away the dishes, tables, bottles, glasses, and also the instruments on which the calenders had played. Nor did Safiè remain idle; she swept the hall, put every thing in its proper place, snuffed the candles, and added more aloe wood and ambergris. Having done this, she requested the three calenders to sit on a sofa on one side, and the caliph and his company on the other. “Get up,” said she then to the porter, looking at him, “and be ready to assist in whatever we want you; a man like you, as strong as the house, ought never to remain idle.” The porter had slept till he was rather more sober: he got up therefore very quickly, and after fastening his cloak to his girdle, “I am ready,” he cried, “to do any thing you please.”—“That is well,” answered Safiè, “and you shall not remain long with your arms crossed.” A little while after Aminè came in with a sort of seat, which she placed in the middle of the room. She then went to the door of a closet, and having opened it, she made a sign to the porter to approach. “Come and assist me,” she cried. He did so, and went in with her, and returned a moment after, followed by two black dogs, each of which had a collar with a chain fastened to it, by which he held them. He brought these dogs, which appeared to have been very ill used and beaten with a whip, into the middle of the room.
Zobeidè, who was sitting between the calenders and the caliph, then got up, and approaching to the porter in a very grave manner, “We must,” cried she, with a deep sigh, “do our duty.” She then turned up her sleeves, so as to uncover her arms up to the elbow, and after taking a whip which Safiè presented to her, “Porter,” she said, “take one of these dogs to my sister Aminè, and then come to me with the other.” The porter did as he was ordered; and as he approached Zobeidè, the dog, which he held, immediately began to howl, and turning towards her lifted up its head in a most supplicating manner. But she, without regarding the melancholy expressions of the dog, which must have excited pity, or its cries which filled the whole house, flogged it till she was out of breath, and when she had not strength left to beat it any more, she threw away the whip; then taking the chain from the porter, she took up the dog by the paws, and both looking at each other with a melancholy air, they mingled their tears together. Zobeidè after this took out her handkerchief, wiped the tears from its eyes and kissed it, then returning the chain to the porter, she desired him to lead that back from whence he had taken it, and bring her the other.
The porter carried the one that had been beaten back to the closet; and in returning took the other from the hands of Aminè, and presented it to Zobeidè, who was waiting for it. “Hold it as you did the first,” said she; then taking the whip, she served this in the same manner. She then wept with it, dried its tears, kissed it, and returned it to the porter, who was saved the trouble of carrying it back to the closet by the agreeable Aminè, who took it herself.
The three calenders, as well as the caliph and his party, were much astonished at this ceremony. They could not comprehend why Zobeidè, after having whipped, with so much violence, the two dogs, which, according to the tenets of the Mussulman religion, are impure animals, should afterwards weep with them, kiss them, and dry their tears. They conversed together about it, and the caliph in particular was very desirous of knowing the reason of an action which appeared to him so singular. He made signs to the vizier to inquire, but he turned his head another way, till at last, importuned by repeated signs, he answered in the same manner, that it was not yet time to satisfy his curiosity.
Zobeidè remained for some time in the middle of the room, as if to rest from her fatigue in beating the two dogs. “My dear sister,” said the beautiful Safiè, “will you not return to your place, that I also may perform my part?”—“Yes,” replied Zobeidè, and seated herself on the sofa with the caliph, Giafar, and Mesrour, on her right hand, and the three calenders and the porter on her left.
The company continued for some time silent: at length Safiè, who had placed herself on the seat in the middle of the room, said to Aminè, “Sister get up, you understand what I mean.” Aminè rose and went into a different closet from that whence the dogs were brought; she returned with a case covered with yellow satin, and richly ornamented with an embroidery of green and gold. She opened it, and took out a lute, which she presented to her sister. Safiè took it, and after having tuned it, began to accompany it with her voice: she sung an air on the torments of absence, in so agreeable a style, that the caliph and the rest of the company were enchanted. When she had finished, as she had sung with a great deal of action as well as passion, she offered the lute to Aminè, saying, “Sister, my voice fails me; do you take it, and oblige the company by playing and singing instead of me.”
Aminè having played a little prelude, to hear if the instrument was in tune, sung for some time on the same subject, but she became so affected by the words she uttered, that she had not power to finish the air. Zobeidè began to praise her sister: “You have done wonders,” said she, “it is easy to perceive that you feel the griefs you express.” Aminè had not time to reply to this speech; she felt herself so oppressed at that moment, that she could think of nothing but giving herself air, and opening her robe, she exposed a bosom, not white as the beautiful Aminè ought to have had, but so covered with scars, as to create a species of horror in the spectators. This, however, was of no service to her, and she fainted away.
Whilst Zobeidè and Safiè ran to assist their sister, one of the calenders exclaimed, “We had better have slept in the open air than come here to witness such a spectacle.”
The caliph, who heard him, drew near, and enquired what all this meant: “We know no more than you,” replied the calender. “What,” resumed the caliph, “do not you belong to the house? cannot you inform me about these two black dogs, and this lady, who appears to have been so ill treated?”—“Sir,” said the calender, “we never were in this house before now, and entered it only a few minutes sooner than you did.” This increased the astonishment of the caliph, “Perhaps,” said he, “the man who is with you can give us some information.” The calender made signs to the porter to draw near, and asked him if he knew why the black dogs had been beaten, and why the bosom of Aminè was so scarred. “Sir,” replied the porter, “I swear by the great living God, that if you know nothing of the matter, we are all equally ignorant. It is true that I live in the city, but before to-day I never entered this house; and if you are surprised to see me here, I am not less so at being in such company. What increases my surprise,” added he, “is not to see any man with these ladies.”
The caliph and his party, as well as the calenders, thought that the porter belonged to the family, and that he would have been able to have informed them of what they wished so much to know. The caliph, whatever might be the consequence, resolved to satisfy his curiosity. “Attend to me,” he said to the rest, “we are seven men and there are only three women, let us then compel them to give us the information we request; and if they refuse to comply with a good grace, we can force them to it. The grand vizier, Giafar, opposed this plan; and explained the consequences of it to the caliph, without discovering to the calenders who he was, as he always addressed him like a merchant. “Consider, sir, I beg,” said he, “that we have our reputation to preserve. You know on what condition these ladies suffered us to become their guests; and we accepted the terms. What will they say to us if we infringe the compact? And we should be still more to blame if any misfortune should happen to us in consequence of it. It is not to be supposed that they would require such a promise from us unless they should be able to make us repent if we broke it.”
The vizier now drew the caliph a little aside, and spoke to him in a low voice. “The night, my lord, will not last long, if your majesty will have but a little patience, I will then come and bring these women before you when on your throne, and you may learn from them whatever you wish.” Although this advice was very judicious, the caliph rejected it, and desired the vizier to be silent, and said he would not wait so long, but would that instant have the information he wished. The next question was, who should first make the enquiry. The caliph endeavoured to persuade the calenders to speak first, but they excused themselves. At last they all agreed, that it should be the porter. He was preparing to utter the fatal question, when Zobeidè, after having assisted Aminè, who had recovered from her fainting, approached them. As she had heard them speak in rather a loud and warm manner, she said to them, “What are you talking of? what is your contest about?”
The porter then addressed her as follows: “These gentlemen, madam, entreat you to have the goodness to explain to them why you wept with those dogs after having treated them so ill; and how it has happened that the lady who fainted has her bosom covered with scars. This, madam, is what I have been required by them to ask of you.”
At these words Zobeidè, in the most haughty and fierce manner, turned to the caliph and the calenders. “Is it true, gentlemen,” she asked, “that you have commissioned this man to require this information of me?” They all answered it was, except the vizier Giafar, who did not open his lips. Upon this she replied to them, in a tone which showed how much she was offended; “Because we granted you the favour you requested of us, and in order to prevent any cause of discontent or dissatisfaction on your parts as we were alone, we made our acquiescence subject to one positive condition, that you should not speak about what did not concern you, lest you should hear what would not please you. After having both received and entertained you as well as we possibly could, you do not scruple to break your word. This probably arises from the facility with which we agreed to receive you; but that surely is no excuse; and your conduct, therefore, cannot be considered as honourable.” Having concluded her speech, she struck the floor with her foot, and clapped her hand three times, and called out, “Enter quickly!” A door immediately opened, and seven strong powerful black slaves rushed in, with scimitars in their hands, and each seized one of the company. They threw them to the ground, drew them into the middle of the hall, and were preparing to take off their heads.
We may easily conceive what was the alarm of the caliph. He repented, but too late, at not having followed the advice of his vizier. In the mean time this unfortunate prince, Giafar, Mesrour, the porter, and the three calenders, were about to pay with their lives for their indiscreet curiosity; but before they received the fatal stroke, one of the slaves said to Zobeidè and her sisters, “High, powerful, and respectable mistresses, do you command us to cut their throats?”—“Stop,” answered Zobeidè, “it is necessary first to interrogate them.”—“Madam,” cried the affrighted porter, “in the name of God do not make me die for the crime of another. I am innocent, and they only are guilty. Alas!” he continued, weeping, “we were passing the time so agreeably. These one-eyed calenders are the cause of this misfortune; there is not even a city that would not be ruined by men of such ill-favoured countenances. I entreat you, madam, not to confound the first with the last; and remember, it is much more commendable to pardon a miserable wretch like me, deprived of all assistance, than to overwhelm him with your power, and sacrifice him to your resentment.”