“‘Alas,’ cried I, ‘what a misfortune! What an affront! How

can I venture to return to Moussoul? All that I can say to my

father, will never persuade him that I am innocent.’ Three days

after this accident befel me, I saw, with the utmost astonishment, a

number of the attendants of the police officer come into my house,

attended by my landlord and the merchant, who had falsely accused me

of having stolen the necklace from him. I asked them what they

wanted; but instead of replying, they bound me with cords, and

poured forth the most abusive language, telling me, that the

necklace belonged to the governor of Damascus, who had lost it about

three years before; and that at the same time one of his daughters

had disappeared. Judge of the state I was in at this intelligence; I

however determined how to act. ‘I will tell the truth,’ thought

I; ‘the governor shall decide, whether he will pardon me, or

commit me for execution.’

“When I was conducted before him, I observed, that he looked on me

with an eye of compassion, which I conceived to be a favourable

omen. He ordered me to be unbound, and then addressing the merchant,

who was my accuser, and the landlord of my house, ‘Is that,’

said he to them, ‘the young man who offered for sale the pearl

necklace?’ They immediately answered that I was. When he added,

‘I am convinced, that he did not steal the necklace; and I am very

much surprised, that such injustice should have been practised on

him.’ Encouraged by this speech, ‘My lord,’ I cried, ‘I

swear to you that I am innocent. I am persuaded also, that the

necklace did not ever belong to my accuser, whom I never saw before,

and whose horrible perfidy is the cause of the disagreeable

treatment I have met with. It is true that I confessed the theft;

but I made this avowal against my conscience, urged by the torments

I was made to suffer, and for a reason which I am ready to relate,

if you will have the goodness to listen to me.’--‘I know enough

already,’ replied the governor, ‘to be able to render you

immediately part of the justice which is your due. Let the false

accuser be taken from hence,’ continued he, ‘and let him undergo

the same punishment which he caused to be inflicted on this young

man, whose innocence is well known to me.’

“The order of the governor was instantly put in execution. The

merchant was led out, and punished as he deserved. After which the

governor, having desired all who were present to withdraw, thus

addressed me: ‘My son, relate to me, without fear, in what manner

this necklace fell into your hands, and disguise nothing from me.’

I then discovered to him all that had happened; and owned, that I

preferred passing for a thief to revealing this tragical adventure.

‘Great God,’ exclaimed the governor, as soon as I had done

speaking, ‘thy judgments are incomprehensible, and we must submit

without murmuring: I receive, with entire submission, the blow which

thou hast been pleased to strike.’ Then addressing himself to me,

‘My son,’ added he, ‘having heard the account of your

misfortune, for which I am extremely sorry, I will now relate mine.

Know, then, that I am the father of the two ladies you have been

speaking of.

“‘The first lady, who had the effrontery to seek you, even in

your own house, was the eldest of all my daughters. I had married

her, at Cairo, to her cousin, the son of my brother. Her husband

died, and she returned here, corrupted by a thousand vices, which

she had learnt in Egypt. Before her arrival, the youngest, who died

in so deplorable a manner in your arms, was very prudent, and had

never given me any reason to complain of her morals. Her eldest

sister formed a very close friendship with her, and by insensible

degrees rendered her as wicked as herself.

“‘The day following that on which the youngest died, as I did

not see her when I sat down to table, I inquired for her of the

eldest, who had returned home; but instead of making any reply she

began to weep so bitterly, that I conceived an unlucky presage. I

pressed her to inform me of what I wished to know.

“‘Father,’ replied she, sobbing, ‘I can tell you nothing

more than that my sister yesterday put on her best dress, and her

beautiful pearl necklace, and went out; since which she has not

appeared.’ I had my daughter searched for over the city, but could

learn no tidings of her unhappy fate. In the mean time my eldest

daughter, who no doubt began to repent of her jealous fit, did not

cease weeping and bewailing the death of her sister: she even

deprived herself of all kinds of nourishment, and by that means put

a period to her existence.

“‘This alas!’ continued the governor, ‘is the condition of

man. These are the evils to which he is exposed. But, my son, as we

are both equally unfortunate, let us unite our sorrows, and never

abandon each other. I will bestow my third daughter on you in

marriage: she is younger than her sisters, and does not at all

resemble them in her conduct. She is even more beautiful than they

were, and I can assure you, that she is of a disposition to make you

happy. My house shall be your home, and after my death you and she

will be my only heirs.’--‘My lord,’ said I, ‘I am quite

confused by your kindness, and shall never be able to testify my

gratitude.’--‘Enough,’ interrupted he, ‘let us not waste

time in useless conversation.’ Saying this, he had some witnesses

called, and I married his daughter without any farther ceremony.

“He was not satisfied with punishing the merchant who had falsely

accused me; he also confiscated all his property, which was very

considerable, to my use. In short, as you come now from the

governor, you may have observed in what high estimation he holds me.

I must add too, that a man, who was sent expressly by my uncles to

seek me in Egypt, having discovered, in passing through this city,

that I resided here, yesterday gave me letters from them. They

inform me of the death of my father, and invite me to go to Moussoul

to take possession of his inheritance; but as my alliance and

friendship with the governor attach me to him, and do not suffer me

to think of quitting him, I have sent back the express, empowering

my uncles legally to transfer all that belongs to me. After what you

have heard I trust you will pardon me the incivility I have been

guilty of, during my illness, of presenting you my left hand instead

of my right.’

“This,” said the Jewish physician to the sultan of Casgar, “is

what the young man of Moussoul related to me. I remained at Damascus

as long as the governor lived; after his death, as I was in the

prime of my life, I had the curiosity to travel. I traversed all

Persia, and went into India; at last I came to establish myself in

your capital, where I exercise, with credit to myself, the

profession of physician.”

The sultan of Casgar thought this story entertaining; “I

confess,” said he to the Jew, “what thou hast been relating is

extraordinary; but to speak frankly, the story of the hunchback is

still more so, and much more comical; so do not flatter thyself with

the hope of being reprieved any more than the others; I shall have

you all four hanged.”--“A moment’s grace, Sire,” cried the

tailor, advancing, and prostrating himself at the feet of the

sultan; since your majesty likes pleasant stories, that which I

shall tell you, will not, I think, displease you.”--“I will

listen to thee also,” replied the sultan, “but do not entertain

any hopes that I shall suffer thee to live, unless thou canst

recount some adventure more diverting than that of the hunchback.”

The tailor then, as if he had been sure of his business, boldly

began his recital in these words:

THE STORY

TOLD BY THE TAILOR.

A tradesman, Sire, of this city, did me the honor, two days since,

of inviting me to an entertainment, which he gave yesterday morning

to his friends: I repaired to his house at an early hour, and found

about twenty people assembled.

We were waiting for the master of the house, who was gone out on

some sudden business, when we saw him arrive, accompanied by a young

stranger very neatly dressed, and of a good figure, but lame. We all

rose, and to do honor to the master of the house, we begged the

young man to sit with us on the sofa. He was just going to sit down,

when perceiving a barber, who was one of the company, he abruptly

stepped back; and was going away. The master of the house, surprised

at this, stopped him. “Where are you going?” said he, “I bring

you here to do me the honor of being present at an entertainment I

am going to give my friends, and you are scarcely entered before you

want to go away!”--“In the name of God, sir,” replied the

stranger, “I entreat you not to detain me, but suffer me to

depart. I cannot behold without horror that abominable barber, who

is sitting there; although he is born in a country where the

complexion of the people is white, yet he bears the colour of an

Ethiopian; but his mind is of a still deeper and more horrible die

than his visage.”

We were all very much surprised at this speech, and began to

conceive a very bad opinion of the barber, without knowing whether

the young stranger had any just reason for speaking of him in such

terms. We even went so far as to declare that we would not suffer at

our table a man of whom we had heard so shocking a character. The

master of the house begged the stranger to acquaint us with the

occasion of his hatred to the barber. “Gentlemen,” said the

young man, “you must know, that this barber was the cause of my

being lame; and also of the most cruel affair, which befel me, that

you can possibly conceive; for this reason I have made a vow to quit

instantly any place where he may be; and even not to reside in any

town where he lives: for this reason I left Bagdad, where he was,

and undertook so long a journey to come and settle myself in this

city, where, being in the centre of Great Tartary, I flattered

myself I should be secure of never beholding him again. However,

contrary to my hopes and expectations, I find him here; this obliges

me, gentlemen, to deprive myself of the honor of partaking of your

feast. I will this day leave your city, and go to hide myself, if I

can, in some place where he can never again offend my sight.” In

saying this, he was going to leave us, but the master of the house

still detained him, and entreated him to relate to us the cause of

the aversion he had against the barber, who all this time kept his

eyes fixed on the ground, and was silent. We joined our entreaties

to those of the master of the house, and at last the young man,

yielding to our wishes, seated himself on the sofa, and began his

history in these words; having first turned his back towards the

barber, lest he should see him.

“My father, who lived in Bagdad, was of a rank to aspire to the

highest offices of state; but he preferred leading a quiet and

tranquil life to all the honors he might deserve. I was his only

child, and when he died, I had completed my education, and was of an

age to dispose of the large possessions he had bequeathed me. I did

not dissipate them in folly, but made such use of them as procured

me the esteem of every one.

“I had not yet felt any tender passion, and far from being at all

sensible to love, I will confess, perhaps to my shame, that I

carefully avoided the society of women. One day, as I was walking in

a street I saw a great number of ladies coming towards me; in order

to avoid them, I turned into a little street that was before me, and

sat down on a bench that was placed near a door. I was opposite to a

window, where there was a number of very fine flowers, and my eyes

were fixed on them, when the window opened and a lady appeared,

whose beauty dazzled me. She cast her eyes on me, and watering the

flowers, with a hand whiter than alabaster, she looked at me with a

smile, which inspired me with as much love for her as I had hitherto

had aversion towards the rest of her sex. After having watered her

flowers, and bestowed on me another look full of charms, which

completed the conquest of my heart, she shut the window, and left me

in a state of pain and uncertainty which I cannot describe.

“I should have remained thus a considerable time, had not the

noise I heard in the street brought me to my senses again. I turned

my head as I got up, and saw, that it was one of the first cadis of

the city, mounted on a mule, and accompanied by five or six of his

people: he alighted at the door of the house where the young lady

had opened the window, and went in, which made me suppose he was her

father.

“I returned home in a state very different from that in which I

had left it: agitated by a passion so much the more violent from its

being the first attack. I went to bed with a raging fever, which

caused great affliction in my household. My relations, who loved me,

alarmed by so sudden an indisposition, came quickly to see me, and

importuned me to acquaint them of the cause, but I was very careful

to keep it secret. My silence increased their alarms, nor could the

physicians dissipate their fears for my safety, because they knew

nothing of my disease, which was only increased by the medicines

they administered.

“My relations began to despair of my life, when an old lady of

their acquaintance, being informed of my illness, arrived; she

considered me with a great deal of attention, and after she had

thoroughly examined me, she discovered, I know not by what chance,

the cause of my disorder. She took them aside, and begged them to

leave her alone with me, and to order my people to retire.

“The room being cleared, she seated herself near my pillow. ‘My

son,’ said she, ‘you have hitherto persisted in concealing the

cause of your illness; nor do I require you to confess it; I have

sufficient experience to penetrate into this secret, and I am sure

you will not disown what I am going to declare. It is love which

occasions your indisposition. I can probably assist your cure,

provided you will tell me who is the happy lady that has been able

to wound a heart so insensible as yours; for you have the reputation

of not liking the ladies, and I have not been the last to perceive

it; however, what I foresaw is at last come to pass, and I shall be

delighted if I can be of any service in releasing you from your

pain.’

“The old lady having finished this speech, waited to hear my

answer; but although it had made a strong impression on me, I did

not dare to open my heart to her. I only turned towards her, and

uttered a deep sigh, without saying a word. ‘Is it shame,’

continued she, ‘that prevents you from speaking, or is it want of

confidence in my power to relieve you? Can you doubt the effects of

my promise? I could mention to you an infinite number of young

people of your acquaintance, who have endured the same pain that you

do; and for whom I have obtained consolation.’

“In short, the good lady said so many things to me, that at length

I broke silence, and declared to her the cause of my pain. I

acquainted her with the place where I had seen the object that had

given birth to it; and related all the circumstances of the

adventure. ‘If you succeed,’ continued I, ‘and procure me the

happiness of seeing this enchanting beauty, and of expressing to her

the passion with which I burn, you may rely on my

gratitude.’--‘My son,’ replied the old lady, ‘I know the

person you mention; she is, as you justly suppose, the daughter of

the principal cadi in this city. I am not surprised that you should

love her; she is the most beautiful, as well as most amiable lady in

Bagdad; but what grieves me is, she is very haughty, and difficult

of access. You know, that many of our officers of justice are very

exact, in making women observe the harsh laws which subject them to

so irksome a restraint; they are still more strict in their own

families, and the cadi you saw is himself alone more rigid on this

point than all the others put together. As they are continually

preaching to their daughters the enormity of the crime of showing

themselves to men, the poor things are in general so cautious of

being guilty of it, that, when necessity obliges them to walk in the

streets, they make no use of their eyes, but to guide them on their

way; I do not say, that this is absolutely the case with the

daughter of the principal cadi; yet I am much afraid of having as

great obstacles to overcome on her side, as on her father’s. Would

to Heaven you loved any other lady! I should not have so many

difficulties, as I foresee, to surmount. I will nevertheless employ

all my address; but it will require time to succeed. At any rate

take courage, and place confidence in me.’

“The old lady left me, and as I reflected with anxiety on all the

obstacles she had represented to me, the fear that she would not

succeed possessed me, and increased my disease. She returned the

following day, and I soon read in her countenance, that she had no

favourable intelligence to announce. She said, ‘My son, I was not

mistaken; I have more to surmount than merely the vigilance of a

father; you love an insensible object, who delights in letting those

burn with unrequited passion, who suffer themselves to be charmed

with her beauty; she will not allow them the least relief; she

listened to me with pleasure, whilst I talked to her only of the

pain she made you suffer; but no sooner did I open my mouth, to

persuade her to allow you an interview, than she cast an angry look

at me, and said, ‘You are very insolent to attempt to make such a

proposition; and I desire you will never see me more, if it be only

to hold such conversations as this!

“‘But let not that afflict you,’ continued the old lady, ‘I

am not easily discouraged, and provided you do not lose your

patience, I hope at last to accomplish my design.’ Not to protract

my narration (said the young man) I will only say, that this good

messenger made several fruitless attempts in my favor, with the

haughty enemy of my peace. The vexation I endured, increased my

disorder to such a degree, that the physicians gave me over. I was,

therefore, considered as a man who was at the point at death, when

the old lady came to give me new life.

“That no one might hear her, she whispered in my ear; ‘Think of

the present you will make me for the good news I bring you.’ These

words produced a wonderful effect; I raised myself in my bed, and

replied with transport, ‘The present will not be deficient; what

have you to tell me?’--‘My dear sir,’ resumed she, ‘you will

not die this time, and I shall soon have the pleasure of seeing you

in perfect health, and well satisfied with me; yesterday being

Monday, I went to the lady you are in love with, and found her in

very good humour; I at first put on a mournful countenance, uttered

an abundance of sighs, and shed some tears. ‘My good mother,’

said she, ‘what is the matter? Why are you in such

affliction?’--‘Alas! my dear and honorable lady,’ replied I,

‘I am just come from the young gentleman I spoke to you of the

other day; it is all over with him; he is at the point of death, and

all for love of you; it is a great pity, I assure you, and you are

very cruel.’--‘I do not know,’ said she, ‘why you should

accuse me of being the cause of his death: how can I have

contributed to his illness?’--‘How?’ replied I, ‘did I not

tell you, that he seated himself before your window, just as you

opened it to water your flowers? He beheld this prodigy of beauty,

these charms, which your mirror reflects every day; from that moment

he has languished for you, and his disease is so augmented, that he

is now reduced to the pitiable state I have had the honor of

describing to you. You may remember, madam,’ continued I, ‘how

rigorously you treated me lately, when I was going to tell you of

his illness, and propose to you a method of relieving him from his

dangerous condition; I returned to him after I left you, and he no

sooner perceived, from my countenance, that I did not bring a

favorable account, than his malady redoubled its violence. From that

time, madam, he has been in the most imminent danger of death; and I

do not know, whether you could now save his life, even if you were

inclined to take pity on him.’

“‘This was what I said to her,’ added the old lady. ‘The

fear of your death staggered her, and I saw her face change colour.

‘Is what you say to me quite true,’ said she, ‘and does his

illness proceed only from his love of me?’--‘Ah, madam,’

replied I, ‘it is but too true: would to heaven it were

false!’--‘And do you really think,’ resumed she, ‘that the

hope of seeing and speaking to me could contribute to diminish the

peril of his situation?’--‘It very likely may,’ said I, ‘and

if you desire me, I will try this remedy.’--‘Well then,’

replied she, sighing, ‘let him hope that he may see me; but he

must not expect any other favors, unless he aspires to marry me, and

my father gives his consent!’--‘Madam,’ said I, ‘you are

very good; I will go directly to this young gentleman, and announce

to him, that he will have the pleasure of seeing and conversing with

you.’--‘I do not know,’ said she, ‘that I can fix a more

convenient time to do him this favor than on Friday next, during the

mid-day prayer. Let him observe when my father goes out to attend at

the mosque; and then let him come immediately before this house, if

he is well enough to go abroad. I shall see him arrive, from my

window, and will come down to let him in. We will converse together

while the prayer lasts, and he will retire before my father

returns.’

“‘This is Tuesday,’ continued the old lady, ‘between this

and Friday you will be sufficiently recovered to encounter this

interview.’ Whilst the good lady was talking, I felt my disorder

diminish, or rather by the time she had concluded her discourse, I

found myself quite recovered. ‘Take this,’ said I, giving her my

purse, which was quite full, ‘to you alone I owe my cure; I think

this money better employed than all I have given to the physicians,

who have done nothing but torment me during my illness.’

“The lady having left me, I found myself sufficiently strong to

get up. My relations, delighted to see me so much better,

congratulated me on my recovery, and took their leave.

“Friday morning being arrived, the old lady came whilst I was

dressing, and making choice of the handsomest dress my wardrobe

contained. ‘I do not ask you,’ said she, ‘how you find

yourself; the occupation you are engaged in sufficiently convinces

me of what I am to think; but will not you bathe before you go to

the principal cadi’s?’--‘That would take up too much time,’

replied I, ‘I shall content myself with sending for a barber to

shave my head and beard.’ I then ordered one of my slaves to seek

one who was expert in his business, as well as expeditious.

“The slave brought me this unlucky barber, who is here present.

After having saluted me, he said, ‘Sir, by your countenance you

seem to be unwell.’ I replied, that I was recovering from a very

severe illness. ‘I wish God may preserve you from all kinds of

evils,’ continued he, ‘and may his grace accompany you every

where.’--‘I hope he will grant this wish,’ said I, ‘for

which I am much obliged to you.’--‘As you are now recovering

from illness,’ resumed he, ‘I pray God that he will preserve you

in health. Now tell me what is your pleasure; I have brought my

razors and my lancets; do you wish me to shave or to bleed

you?’--‘Did I not tell you,’ returned I, ‘that I am

recovering from illness? You may suppose, then, that I did not send

for you to bleed me. Be quick and shave me, and do not lose time in

talking, for I am in a hurry, and have an appointment precisely at

noon.’

The Arabian Nights, Volume II of IV · 第 5 / 29 段