till there espied her an old man who had come into the town from
the desert with other five Bedouins. He took note of her and
seeing that she was charming, but had nothing on her head but a
piece of camel-cloth, marvelled at her beauty and said in
himself, "This girl is pretty enough to dazzle the wit, but it is
clear she is in poor case, and whether she be of the people of
the city or a stranger, I must have her." So he followed her,
little by little, till presently he came in front of her and
stopping the way before her in a narrow lane, called out to her,
saying, "Harkye, daughterling, art thou a freewoman or a slave?"
When she heard this, she said to him, "By thy life, do not add to
my troubles! "Quoth he, "God blessed me with six daughters, but
five of them died and only one is left me, the youngest of them
all; and I came to ask thee if thou wert of the people of this
city or a stranger, that I might take thee and carry thee to her,
to bear her company and divert her from mourning for her sisters,
If thou hast no parents, I will use thee as one of them, and thou
and she shall be as my two children." When she heard what he
said, she bowed her head for bashfulness and said to herself,
"Surely I may trust myself to this old man." Then she said to
him, "O uncle, I am a girl of the Arabs (of Irak) and a stranger,
and I have a sick brother; but I will go with thee to thy
daughter on one condition; that is, that I may spend the day only
with her and go to my brother at night. I am a stranger and was
high in honour among my people, yet am I become cast down and
abject. I came with my brother from the land of Hejaz and I fear
lest he know not where I am." When the Bedouin heard this, he
said to himself, "By Allah, I have gotten what I sought!" Then he
turned to her and said, "There shall none be dearer to me than
thou; I only wish thee to bear my daughter company by day, and
thou shalt go to thy brother at nightfall. Or, if thou wilt,
bring him to dwell with us." And he ceased not to give her fair
words and coax her, till she trusted in him and agreed to serve
him. Then he went on before her and she followed him, whilst he
winked to his men to go on in advance and harness the camels and
load them with food and water, ready for setting out as soon as
he should come up. Now this Bedouin was a base-born wretch, a
highway-robber and a brigand, a traitor to his friend and a past
master in craft and roguery. He had no daughter and no son, and
was but a wayfarer in Jerusalem, when, by the decree of God, he
fell in with this unhappy girl. He held her in converse till they
came without the city, where he joined his companions and found
they had made ready the camels. So he mounted a camel, taking
Nuzhet ez Zeman up behind him, and they rode on all night, making
for the mountains, for fear any should see them. By this, she
knew that the Bedouin's proposal was a snare and that he had
tricked her; and she gave not over weeping and crying out the
whole night long. A little before the dawn, they halted and the
Bedouin came up to Nuzhet ez Zeman and said to her, "O wretch,
what is this weeping! By Allah, an thou hold not thy peace, I
will beat thee to death, city faggot that thou art!" When she
heard this, she abhorred life and longed for death; so she turned
to him and said, "O accursed old man, O greybeard of hell, did I
trust in thee and hast thou played me false, and now thou wouldst
torture me?" When he heard her words, he cried out, "O insolent
wretch, dost thou dare to bandy words with me?" And he came up to
her and beat her with a whip, saying, "An thou hold not thy
peace, I will kill thee." So she was silent awhile, but she
called to mind her brother and her former happy estate and wept
in secret. Next day, she turned to the Bedouin and said to him,
"How couldst thou deal thus perfidiously with me and lure me into
these desert mountains, and what wilt thou do with me?" When he
heard her words, he hardened his heart and said to her, "O
pestilent baggage, wilt thou bandy words with me?" So saying, he
took the whip and brought it down on her back, till she well-nigh
fainted. Then she bowed down and kissed his feet; and he left
beating her and began to revile her, saying, "By my bonnet, if I
see or hear thee weeping, I will cut out thy tongue and thrust it
up thy kaze, city strumpet that thou art!" So she was silent and
made him no reply, for the beating irked her; but sat down, with
her arms round her knees and bowing her head, fell a-musing on
her case. Then she bethought her of her former ease and affluence
and her present abasement, and called to mind her brother and his
sickness and forlorn condition and how they were both strangers
in a foreign land; whereat the tears coursed down her cheeks and
she wept silently and repeated the following verses:
The tides of fate 'twixt good and ill shift ever to and fro, And
no estate of life for men endureth evermo'.
All things that to the world belong have each their destined end
And to all men a term is set, which none may overgo.
How long must I oppression bear and peril and distress! Ah, how I
loathe this life of mine, that nought but these can show!
May God not prosper them, these days, wherein I am oppressed of
Fate, these cruel days that add abjection to my woe!
My purposes are brought to nought, my loves are reft in twain By
exile's rigour, and my hopes are one and all laid low.
O ye, who pass the dwelling by, wherein my dear ones are, Bear
them the news of me and say, my tears for ever flow.
When she had finished, the Bedouin came up to her and taking
compassion on her, bespoke her kindly and wiped away her tears.
Then he gave her a cake of barley-bread and said to her, "I do
not love to be answered, when I am angry: so henceforth give me
no more of these insolent words, and I will sell thee to an
honest fellow like myself, who will use thee well, even as I have
done." "It is well," answered she; and when the night was long
upon her and hunger gnawed her, she ate a little of the
barley-cake. In the middle of the night, the Bedouin gave the
signal for departure; so they loaded the camels and he mounted
one of them, taking Nuzhet ez Zeman up behind him. Then they set
out and journeyed, without stopping, for three days, till they
reached the city of Damascus, where they alighted at the Sultan's
khan, hard by the Viceroy's Gate. Now she had lost her colour and
her charms were changed by grief and the fatigue of the journey,
and she ceased not to weep. So the Bedouin came up to her and
said, "Hark ye, city wench! By my bonnet, an thou leave not this
weeping, I will sell thee to a Jew!" Then he took her by the hand
and carried her to a chamber, where he left her and went to the
bazaar. Here he went round to the merchants who dealt in
slave-girls and began to parley with them, saying, "I have with
me a slave-girl, whose brother fell ill, and I sent him to my
people at Jerusalem, that they might tend him till he was cured.
The separation from him was grievous to her, and since then, she
does nothing but weep. Now I purpose to sell her, and I would
fain have whoso is minded to buy her of me speak softly to her
and say to her, 'Thy brother is with me in Jerusalem, ill;' and I
will be easy with him about her price." Quoth one of the
merchants, "How old is she?" "She is a virgin, just come to the
age of puberty," replied the Bedouin, "and is endowed with sense
and breeding and wit and beauty and grace. But from the day I
sent her brother to Jerusalem, she has done nothing but grieve
for him, so that her beauty is fallen away and her value
lessened." When the merchant heard this, he said, "O chief of the
Arabs, I will go with thee and buy this girl of thee, if she be
as thou sayest for wit and beauty and accomplishments; but it
must be upon conditions, which if thou accept, I will pay thee
her price, and if not, I will return her to thee." "If thou
wilt," said the Bedouin, "take her up to Prince Sherkan, son of
King Omar ben Ennuman, lord of Baghdad and of the land of
Khorassan, and I will agree to whatever conditions thou mayst
impose on me; for when he sees her, she will surely please him,
and he will pay thee her price and a good profit to boot for
thyself." "It happens," rejoined the merchant, "that I have just
now occasion to go to him, that I may get him to sign me patent,
exempting me from customs-dues, and I desire of him also a letter
of recommendation to his father King Omar. So, if he take the
girl, I will pay thee down her price at once." "I agree to this,"
answered the Bedouin. So they returned together to the khan,
where the Bedouin stood at the door of the girl's chamber and
called out, saying, "Ho, Najiyeh!" which was the name he had
given her. When she heard him, she wept and made no answer. Then
he turned to the merchant and said to him, "There she sits. Do
thou go up to her and look at her and speak kindly to her, as I
enjoined thee." So he went up to her courteously and saw that she
was wonder-lovely and graceful especially as she was acquainted
with the Arabic tongue; and he said to the Bedouin, "Verily she
is even as thou saidst, and I shall get of the Sultan what I will
for her." Then he said to her, "Peace be on thee, O daughterling!
How dost thou?" She turned to him and replied, "This was written
in the book of Destiny." Then she looked at him and seeing him to
be a man of reverend appearance, with a handsome face, said to
herself, "I believe this man comes to buy me. If I hold aloof
from him, I shall abide with this tyrant, and he will beat me to
death. In any case, this man is comely of face and makes me hope
for better treatment from him than from this brute of a Bedouin.
Mayhap he only comes to hear me talk; so I will give him a fair
answer." All this while, she had kept her eyes fixed on the
ground; then she raised them to him and said in a sweet voice,
"And upon thee be peace, O my lord, and the mercy of God and His
blessing! This is what is commanded of the Prophet, whom God
bless and preserve! As for thine enquiry how I do, if thou
wouldst know my condition, it is such as thou wouldst not wish
but to thine enemies." And she was silent. When the merchant
heard what she said, he was beside himself for delight in her and
turning to the Bedouin, said to him, "What is her price, for
indeed she is illustrious!" At this the Bedouin was angry and
said, "Thou wilt turn me the girl's head with this talk! Why dost
thou say that she is illustrious,[FN#25] for all she is of the
scum of slave-girls and of the refuse of the people? I will not
sell her to thee." When the merchant heard this, he knew he was
dull-witted and said to him, "Calm thyself, for I will buy her of
thee, notwithstanding the defects thou mentionest." "And how much
wilt thou give me for her?" asked the Bedouin "None should name
the child but its father," replied the merchant. "Name thy price
for her." "Not so," rejoined the Bedouin; "do thou say what thou
wilt give." Quoth the merchant in himself, "This Bedouin is an
addle-pated churl. By Allah, I cannot tell her price, for she has
mastered my heart with her sweet speech and her beauty: and if
she can read and write, it will be the finishing touch to her
good fortune and that of her purchaser. But this Bedouin does not
know her value." Then he turned to the latter and said to him, "O
elder of the Arabs, I will give thee two hundred dinars for her,
in cash, clear of the tax and the Sultan's dues." When the
Bedouin heard this, he flew into a violent passion and cried out
at the merchant, saying, "Begone about thy business! By Allah,
wert thou to offer me two hundred dinars for the piece of
camel-cloth on her head, I would not sell it to thee! I will not
sell her, but will keep her by me, to pasture the camels and
grind corn." And he cried out to her, saying, "Come, thou
stinkard, I will not sell thee." Then he turned to the merchant
and said to him, "I thought thee a man of judgment; but, by my
bonnet, if thou begone not from me, I will let thee hear what
will not please thee!" "Verily," said the merchant to himself,
"this Bedouin is mad and knows not the girl's value, and I will
say no more to him about her price for the present; for by Allah,
were he a man of sense, he would not say, 'By my bonnet!' By
Allah, she is worth the kingdom of the Chosroes and I will give
him what he will, though it be all I have." Then he said to him,
"O elder of the Arabs, calm thyself and take patience and tell me
what clothes she has with thee." "Clothes!" cried the Bedouin;
"what should the baggage want with clothes? The camel-cloth in
which she is wrapped is ample for her." "With thy leave," said
the merchant, "I will lift her veil and examine her as folk
examine girls whom they think of buying." "Up and do what thou
wilt," replied the other, "and God keep thy youth! Examine her,
inside and out, and if thou wilt, take off her clothes and look
at her naked." "God forbid!" said the merchant; "I will but look
at her face." Then he went up to her, confounded at her beauty
and grace, and seating himself by her side, said to her, "O my
mistress, what is thy name?" "Dost thou ask what is my name now,"
said she, "or what it was formerly?" "Hast thou then two names?"
asked the merchant. "Yes," replied she, "my whilom name was
Nuzhet ez Zeman;[FN#26] but my name at this present is Ghusset ez
Zeman."[FN#27] When the merchant heard this, his eyes filled with
tears, and he said to her, "Hast thou not a sick brother?"
"Indeed, my lord, I have," answered she; "but fortune hath parted
us, and he lies sick in Jerusalem." The merchant's heart was
confounded at the sweetness of her speech, and he said to
himself, "Verily, the Bedouin spoke the truth of her." Then she
called to mind her brother and how he lay sick in a strange land,
whilst she was parted from him and knew not what was become of
him; and she thought of all that had befallen her with the
Bedouin and of her severance from her father and mother and
native land; and the tears ran down her cheeks and she repeated
the following verses:
May God keep watch o'er thee, belov'd, where'er thou art, Thou
that, though far away, yet dwellest in my heart!
Where'er thy footsteps lead, may He be ever near, To guard thee
from time's shifts and evil fortune's dart!
Thou'rt absent, and my eyes long ever for thy sight, And at thy
thought the tears for aye unbidden start.
Would that I knew alas! what country holds thee now, In what
abode thou dwell'st, unfriended and apart!
If thou, in the green o the rose, still drink o' the water of
life, My drink is nought but tears, since that thou didst
depart.
If sleep e'er visit thee, live coals of my unrest, Strewn betwixt
couch and side, for aye my slumbers thwart
All but thy loss to me were but a little thing, But that and that
alone is sore to me, sweetheart.
When the merchant heard her verses, he wept and put out his hand
to wipe away her tears; but she let down her veil, saying, "God
forbid, O my master!" The Bedouin, who was sitting at a little
distance, watching them, saw her cover her face and concluded
that she would have hindered him from handling her: so he rose
and running to her, dealt her such a blow on the shoulders with a
camel's halter he had in his hand, that she fell to the ground on
her face. Her eyebrow smote against a stone, which cut it open,
and the blood streamed down her face; whereupon she gave a loud
scream and fainted away. The merchant was moved to tears for her
and said in himself, "I must and will buy this damsel, though I
pay down her weight in gold, and deliver her from this tyrant."
And he began to reproach the Bedouin, whilst Nuzhet ez Zeman lay
insensible. When she came to herself, she wiped away her tears
and bound up her head: then, raising her eyes to heaven, she
sought her Lord with a sorrowful heart and repeated the following
verses:
Have ruth on one who once was rich and great, Whom villainy hath
brought to low estate.
She weeps with never-ceasing tears and says, "There's no recourse
against the laws of Fate."
Then she turned to the merchant and said to him, in a low voice,
"By Allah, do not leave me with this tyrant, who knows not God
the Most High! If I pass this night with him, I shall kill myself
with my own hand: save me from him, and God will save thee from
hell-fire." So the merchant said to the Bedouin, "O chief of the
Arabs, this girl is none of thine affair; so do thou sell her to
me for what thou wilt." "Take her," said the Bedouin, "and pay me
down her price, or I will carry her back to the camp and set her
to feed the camels and gather their droppings."[FN#28] Quoth the
merchant, "I will give thee fifty thousand dinars for her." "God
will open,"[FN#29] replied the Bedouin. "Seventy thousand," said
the merchant. "God will open," repeated the other; "she hath cost
me more than that, for she hath eaten barley-bread with me to the
value of ninety thousand dinars." Quoth the merchant, "Thou and
all thy people and thy whole tribe in all your lives have not
eaten a thousand dinars' worth of barley: but I will make thee
one offer, which if thou accept not, I will set the Viceroy of
Damascus on thee, and he will take her from thee by force." "Say
on," rejoined the Bedouin. "A hundred thousand," said the
merchant. "I will sell her to thee at that price," answered the
Bedouin; "I shall be able to buy salt with that." The merchant
laughed and going to his house, returned with the money and gave
it to the Bedouin, who took it and made off, saying, "I must go
to Jerusalem: it may be I shall happen on her brother, and I will
bring him here and sell him." So he mounted and journeyed to
Jerusalem, where he went to the khan and enquired for Zoulmekan,
but could not find him.
Meanwhile, the merchant threw his gaberdine over Nuzhet ez Zeman
and carried her to his house, where he dressed her in the richest
clothes he could buy. Then he carried her to the bazaar, where he
bought her what jewellery she chose and put it in a bag of satin,
which he laid before her, saying, "This is all for thee, and I
ask nothing of thee in return but that, when thou comest to the
Viceroy of Damascus, thou tell him what I gave for thee and that
it was little compared with thy value: and if he buy thee, tell
him how I have dealt with thee and ask of him for me a royal
patent, with a recommendation to his father King Omar Ben
Ennuman, lord of Baghdad, to the intent that he may forbid the
taking toll on my stuffs or other goods in which I traffic." When
she heard his words, she wept and sobbed, and the merchant said
to her, "O my mistress, I note that, every time I mention
Baghdad, thine eyes fill with tears: is there any one there whom
thou lovest? If it be a merchant or the like, tell me; for I know
all the merchants and so forth there; and an thou wouldst send
him a message, I will carry it for thee." "By Allah," replied
she, "I have no acquaintance among merchants and the like! I know
none there but King Omar ben Ennuman." When the merchant heard
this, he laughed and was greatly rejoiced and said in himself,
"By Allah, I have gotten my desire!" Then he said to her, "Hast
thou then been shown to him?" "No," answered she; "but I was
brought up with his daughter and he holds me dear and I have much
credit with him; so if thou wouldst have him grant thee a patent
of exemption, give me ink-horn and paper, and I will write thee a
letter, which, when thou reachest Baghdad, do thou deliver into
the King's own hand and say to him, 'Thy handmaid Nuzhet ez Zeman
salutes thee and would have thee to know that the changing
chances of the nights and days have smitten her, so that she has
been sold from place to place and is now with the Viceroy of
Damascus.'" The merchant wondered at her eloquence and his
affection for her increased and he said to her, "I cannot think
but that men have abused thine understanding and sold thee for
money. Tell me, dost thou know the Koran?" "I do," answered she;
"and I am also acquainted with philosophy and medicine and the
Prolegomena and the commentaries of Galen the physician on the
Canons of Hippocrates, and I have commented him, as well as the
Simples of Ibn Beltar, and have studied the works of Avicenna,
according to the canon of Mecca, as well as other treatises. I
can solve enigmas and establish parallels[FN#30] and discourse
upon geometry and am skilled in anatomy. I have read the books of
the Shafiyi[FN#31] sect and the Traditions of the Prophet, I am
well read in grammar and can argue with the learned and discourse
of all manner of sciences. Moreover I am skilled in logic and
rhetoric and mathematics and the making of talismans and
calendars and the Cabala, and I understand all these branches of
knowledge thoroughly. But bring me ink-horn and paper, and I will
write thee a letter that will profit thee at Baghdad and enable
thee to dispense with passports." When the merchant heard this,
he cried out, "Excellent! Excellent! Happy he in whose palace
thou shalt be!" Then he brought her ink-horn and paper and a pen
of brass and kissed the earth before her, to do her honour. She
took the pen and wrote the following verses:
"What ails me that sleep hath forsaken my eyes and gone astray?
Have you then taught them to waken, after our parting day!
How comes it your memory maketh the fire in my heart to rage?
Is't thus with each lover remembers a dear one far away?
How sweet was the cloud of the summer, that watered our days of
yore! 'Tis flitted, before of its pleasance my longing I
could stay.
I sue to the wind and beg it to favour the slave of love, The
wind that unto the lover doth news of you convey.
A lover to you complaineth, whose every helper fails. Indeed, in
parting are sorrows would rend the rock in sway.
"These words are from her whom melancholy destroys and whom
watching hath wasted; in her darkness there are no lights found,
and she knows not night from day. She tosses from side to side on
the couch of separation and her eyes are blackened with the
pencils of sleeplessness; she watches the stars and strains her
sight into the darkness: verily, sadness and emaciation have
consumed her and the setting forth of her case would be long. No
helper hath she but tears and she reciteth the following verses:
"No turtle warbles on the branch, before the break of morn, But
stirs in me a killing grief, a sadness all forlorn.
No lover, longing for his loves, complaineth of desire, But with
a doubled stress of woe my heart is overborne.
Of passion I complain to one who hath no ruth on me. How soul and
body by desire are, one from other, torn!"
Then her eyes brimmed over with tears, and she wrote these verses
also:
"Love-longing, the day of our parting, my body with mourning
smote, And severance from my eyelids hath made sleep far
remote.
I am so wasted for yearning and worn for sickness and woe, That,
were it not for my speaking, thou'dst scarce my presence
note."