examined the house, and found, in fact, that the robbers had taken
away the beautiful furniture of the apartment in which he had
received Schemselnihar and her lover; and had carried off all the
gold and silver plate, not leaving an individual thing behind them.
At this sight he was quite in despair. “Oh, heavens!” he
exclaimed, “I am undone, without the chance of redress or
recovery. What will my friends say, and what excuse can I make them,
when I shall inform them the thieves have broken open my house, and
robbed me of every thing they had so generously lent me? How can I
ever compensate them for the loss they have suffered through me?
Besides, what can have become of Schemselnihar and the prince of
Persia? This affair will make a great noise, and it infallibly must
reach the ears of the caliph. He will be informed of this
assignation, and I shall be the victim of his rage.” The slave,
who was very much attached to his master, tried to console him. With
regard to Schemselnihar,” he said, “there is no doubt but that
the robbers would be contented with despoiling her of her valuables,
and you may be assured she will return to her palace with her
slaves: and the same will probably be the fate of the prince of
Persia. You have every reason, therefore, to hope, that the caliph
will remain in total ignorance of this adventure. As for the loss
which your friends have suffered, it is a misfortune you cannot
help, nor were able to avoid. They very well know, that the robbers
are here in great numbers, and that they have had the boldness to
pillage, not only the houses I have mentioned to you, but many
others belonging to the principal noblemen of the court; and they
are not ignorant, that in spite of the orders which have been
issued, to seize them, not one of them has hitherto been taken,
notwithstanding all the exertions and diligence that have been used.
You will make them every recompense in returning to your friends the
full value of the things you have been robbed of, and you will then
still have, God be praised, a tolerable fortune remaining.”
While they were waiting till it was day-light, the jeweller made the
slave mend the door of the house that had been forced, as well as he
could. After this, he went back with his slave to that he commonly
lived in; making the most melancholy reflections all the way he
walked along. “Ebn Thaher,” said he to himself, “has been
wiser than I have: he has foreseen this misfortune, into which I
have blindly run headlong. I wish to God I had never taken any part
in an intrigue which may perhaps cost me my life.”
It was hardly day when the report of this house having been broken
open and pillaged spread itself through the city, and was the cause
of a great number of the jeweller’s friends and neighbours
assembling at his habitation; the most part of whom, under the
pretext of expressing their sorrow for this accident, only came to
hear the account more at large. He did not omit to thank them for
the kindness of their inquiries: and he had, at least, the
consolation of finding, that no one mentioned either the prince of
Persia or Schemselnihar, which led him to hope, that they were
returned home, or had retired to some place of safety.
When the jeweller was again alone, his people served up a repast;
but he could not eat any thing. It was now about mid-day; when one
of his slaves came and informed him, there was a man at the door,
whom he did not know, who said, he wanted to speak with him. As the
jeweller did not wish to admit an entire stranger into his house, he
got up and went to speak to him at the door. “Although you do not
know me,” said the man, “I am not unacquainted with you, and I
am come to you upon a most important affair.” At these words the
jeweller requested him to come into the house. “By no means,”
replied the stranger, “you must, if you please, take the trouble
to go with me to your other house.”--“How came you to know,”
answered the jeweller, “that I have any other house besides
this?”--“I am very well acquainted with that,” said the
stranger; “and therefore you have only to follow me, and fear
nothing; I have something to communicate to you that will give you
pleasure.” The jeweller then went with him, but informed him, by
the way, in what manner his house had been robbed, and that it was
not in a state in which to receive any one.
When they had arrived opposite to the house, and the stranger saw
that the door was half broken, he said to the jeweller, “I see,
indeed, that you have spoken the truth; I will conduct you, then, to
a place where we shall be better accommodated.” Having said this,
they continued walking on, nor did they stop during the remainder of
the day. Fatigued with the distance they had come, vexed at seeing
night so near at hand, and wondering at the silence which the
stranger kept respecting the place they were going to, the jeweller
began to lose all his patience, when they arrived at an open place,
which led down to the Tigris. As soon as they were on the banks of
that river they embarked in a small boat, and passed over to the
other side. The stranger then conducted the jeweller down a long
street, where he had never before been; and, after passing through I
know not how many unfrequented lanes, he stopped at a door, which he
opened. He desired the jeweller to go in, shut the door after him,
and fastened it with a large iron bar. He then conducted him into an
apartment, where there were ten other men, who were not less
strangers to the jeweller than the one who had brought him there.
These ten men received the jeweller without much ceremony. They
desired him to sit down, which he did. He had, indeed, great
occasion for a seat, for he was not only fatigued and out of breath
from his long walk, but the alarm with which he was seized at
finding himself with people apparently fully adequate to inspire it,
was so great, that he was hardly able to stand. As they only waited
for the chief, before they went to supper, it was served up, when he
made his appearance. They first washed their hands, and compelled
the jeweller to do the same, and also to sit down at table with
them. After supper was over, they asked him, if he was aware with
whom he was conversing. The jeweller answered he was not, and did
not even know either the quarter of the city or the place he was in.
“Relate to us, then,” they said, “your adventure of last
night, and do not conceal any thing from us.” The jeweller was
much astonished at this speech, and answered, “You are, probably,
gentlemen, already acquainted with it.”--“True,” replied they,
“the young man and young lady who were with you yesterday evening,
have related it to us; but we wish, nevertheless, to know it from
your own lips.”
Nothing more was wanting to make the jeweller understand, that he
was now speaking to the very robbers who had broken open and
pillaged his house. “Gentlemen,” said he, “I am in great
distress about that young man and young lady, can you give me any
information concerning them?”--“Be in no fear,” answered they,
“on their account; they are in a place of safety, and are quite
well.” Having said this, they pointed out two small apartments to
him, in which they assured him they were kept separate. “They
informed us,” added the strangers, “that you were the only
person who were acquainted with their affairs and interested about
them. As soon, therefore, as we knew that, we took all possible care
of them on your account. So far from having made use of the least
violence towards them, we have, on the contrary, done them every
service in our power, and no one has ever wished to treat them ill:
we assure you, also, of the same treatment, and you may place the
fullest confidence in us.”
Encouraged by this speech, and delighted to find that Schemselnihar
and the prince of Persia were in safety, at least with respect to
their lives and persons, the jeweller endeavoured to engage the
robbers still further in their service. He praised and flattered
them, and returned them a thousand thanks. “I acknowledge,
gentlemen,” said he to them, “that I have not the honor of
knowing you; but it is a very great happiness to me, that you are
not unacquainted with me, and I cannot sufficiently thank you for
the gratification this acquaintance on your part has procured me.
Not to mention a word of the great humanity and kindness of this
action, I see very clearly, that it is only among men such as you,
that a secret can be faithfully kept, where there is any danger of a
discovery to be dreaded; and if there be any enterprise of a more
difficult nature than common, you well know how to carry it through,
by your alacrity, your courage, and your intrepidity. Relying upon
these qualifications, to which you have so just a claim, I shall
make no difficulty in relating my history to you, and also that of
the two persons whom you found at my house, with all the
distinctness and truth you can require.”
After the jeweller had taken all these precautions to interest the
robbers about every thing he was going to reveal to them, that he
thought might be of advantage, he gave them a complete detail,
without omitting a single circumstance of the attachment and
adventures of the prince of Persia and Schemselnihar, from the very
beginning till the meeting he had procured them at his house.
The robbers were in the greatest astonishment at what they heard.
“What,” they cried, when the jeweller had concluded his
narration, “is it possible, that this young man is the illustrious
Ali Ebn Becar, prince of Persia, and this lady the beautiful and
celebrated Schemselnihar?” The jeweller swore that he had told
them nothing but the strict and literal truth; and added, that they
ought not to think it strange, that persons of their rank were very
unwilling to make themselves known.
Upon this assurance, the robbers all went, one after the other, and
threw themselves at the feet of Schemselnihar and the prince of
Persia, entreating them to grant them a pardon; and protesting, that
nothing which had happened should have taken place if they had known
the rank of the guests before they had broken open the jeweller’s
house. “And we will now endeavour,” they added, “to make some
reparation for the fault we have committed.” They then returned to
the jeweller, “We are very sorry,” said they to him, “that we
are unable to restore every thing we have taken from you, as some
part of it is no longer at our disposal; we beg of you, therefore,
to be satisfied with the plate and silver articles, which we will
immediately return to you.”
The jeweller thought himself very fortunate at the favor they, by
these means, did him. When, therefore, the robbers had restored what
they promised, they requested the prince of Persia and Schemselnihar
to come, and informed them, as well as the jeweller, that they were
ready to conduct them back to a certain place, from whence each
might return to his own house; but before they did this, they wished
to engage each of them, by an oath, not to discover them. The prince
of Persia, Schemselnihar, and the jeweller, all said they were ready
to pledge their words; but if the robbers particularly wished it,
they would swear solemnly to preserve the whole transaction a most
profound secret. The robbers, upon this, perfectly satisfied with
their oath, went out with them.
As they were going along, the jeweller, feeling much disturbed at
not seeing either the confidant or the other two slaves, went up to
Schemselnihar, and requested her to inform him, if she knew what was
become of them. “I know nothing about them,” she replied; “all
I can tell you is, that they carried us with them from your house,
that we were conducted across the river, and at last led to the
house where you found us.”
This was all the conversation which the jeweller had with
Schemselnihar; they then suffered themselves to be escorted by the
robbers, together with the prince, and they soon came to the side of
the river. The robbers immediately took a boat, embarked with them,
and landed them on the opposite bank.
At the instant in which the prince of Persia, Schemselnihar, and the
jeweller, were getting on shore, they heard a great noise, caused by
the horse-patrole coming towards them, who arrived at the moment
they were landed, and while the robbers were rowing back to the
other side with all strength.
The officer of the guard demanded of the prince, Schemselnihar, and
the jeweller, where they were coming from at that late hour, and who
they were. As they were all in a state of considerable alarm, and
therefore fearful of saying any thing that might lead them into
difficulties, they remained silent. It was, however, absolutely
necessary to make some answer; and this the jeweller took upon
himself, as his mind was not quite so disturbed. “Sir,” he
replied, “let me, in the first place, assure you, that we are
people of character, who live in the city. The men, who are in the
boat from whence we have just landed, are robbers, who last night
broke open the house where we were. They despoiled it of every
thing, and carried us with them. During the whole of this time, we
made use of every means in our power, by persuasion and entreaties,
and have at last succeeded in obtaining our liberty, and in
consequence of this, they brought us to this spot. Nay, they even
did more, and restored to us a part of the plunder they had taken,
and which we now have with us.” He then showed to the officer the
parcel of plate the robbers had returned to him.
The commander of the patrole was by no means satisfied with this
answer of the jeweller. He went up both to him and the prince of
Persia, “Tell me,” said he to them, looking in their faces,
“the strict truth; who is this lady? How came you acquainted with
her, and in what quarter of the city do you live?”
These questions very much embarrassed them, and they knew not what
answer to make. Schemselnihar, however, got over the difficulty. She
took the officer aside, and no sooner spoke to him, than he got off
his horse, and showed her every mark of great respect and honor. He
directly also ordered some of his attendants to bring two boats.
When these were come, the officer desired Schemselnihar to embark in
one, and the prince and jeweller went into the other. Two of his
attendants were also in each, with orders to conduct them wherever
they wished to go. The two boats then began to steer a different
course: and we will now only attend to that in which the prince of
Persia and the jeweller were.
The prince, in order to save the persons whom the officer had
ordered to conduct them home, some trouble, told them he would take
the jeweller home with him, and informed them of the part of the
city where he lived. Upon this information, the attendants rowed the
boat towards the shore, close to the caliph’s palace. The prince
of Persia and the jeweller, although they durst not discover it,
were in the greatest possible alarm. Notwithstanding they had heard
the order which the officer had given, they nevertheless were fully
persuaded they were going to be conducted to the guard-house for the
night, and that they should be brought before the caliph in the
morning.
This was, however, by no means the intention of their conductors:
for as soon as they had landed; as they were obliged to return to
their party, they transferred them to an officer belonging to the
caliph’s guard, who sent two soldiers with them to attend them by
land to the prince of Persia’s house, which was at a considerable
distance from the river. They at length arrived there, but so worn
out with labor and fatigue they could scarcely move.
In addition to this excess of weariness, the prince of Persia felt
so much afflicted at the unfortunate and unpleasant interruption he
and Schemselnihar had experienced, and which seemed for ever to
annihilate even the hope of another interview, that in sitting down
on the sofa he absolutely fainted. While most of his people were
employed in assisting to recover him, the rest surrounded the
jeweller, and requested him to inform them what had happened to the
prince, whose absence had occasioned them the greatest anxiety.
The jeweller, who took good care to discover nothing to them they
ought not to know, told them, that the adventure was a very
extraordinary one; but that he had not, at that time, sufficient
leisure to give them the relation, and that they would be of greater
use in assisting the prince. The latter fortunately returned at this
moment to his senses, and those persons, therefore, who had so
recently asked the questions, went to a distance, and showed the
greatest respect; and, at the same time, evinced much joy that his
fainting fit had lasted but a short time.
Although the prince of Persia had recovered his recollection, he
remained in such a weak state, that he could not open his lips for
the purpose of speaking. He answered only by signs, even to his
relations, who spoke to him. He continued in the same situation on
the next morning, when the jeweller took his leave of him. The
prince answered him only by a motion of his eye; at the same moment
he took him by the hand; and, as he observed, that he was incumbered
with the bundle of plate which the robbers had returned to him, he
made a sign to one of his attendants to take and carry it home for
him.
His family had expected the return of the jeweller with the greatest
impatience, during the whole of the day he had gone out with the man
who had called to inquire for him, and of whom they were entirely
ignorant; and, when the time in which he ought to have returned was
elapsed, they were convinced some accident even worse than the
robbery had happened to him. His wife, his children, and servants,
were all in the greatest alarm, and were still in tears when he
arrived. Their joy at seeing him was great for the moment, but it
was soon accompanied with pain and regret at finding him so much
altered in so short a time. The excessive fatigue of the preceding
days and having passed the whole of the night without sleep, and in
the midst of alarms, were the causes of this change, and many of his
people, for the moment, hardly knew him again. As he felt himself
very much weakened, he remained two whole days at home without once
stirring out; during which time he saw only his most intimate
friends, to whom he had ordered free admission.
On the third day, the jeweller, who felt his strength
re-established, thought that a walk in the open air would assist his
recovery. He went, therefore, to the shop of a rich merchant, with
whom he had been upon a friendly footing for some length of time. As
he got up to take his leave and go away, he perceived a female, who
made him a sign, and he instantly recognised her as the confidential
slave of Schemselnihar. This sight affected him with such a mixture
of joy and alarm, that he went out of the shop without noticing her.
She, however, followed him, as he was convinced she would, because
the place they were then in was not proper for conversation. As he
walked rather quickly, the confidant could not overtake him, and,
therefore, from time to time called out to him to stop. He heard her
perfectly well, but after what had happened to him, he did not
choose to speak to her in public, through the dread of giving rise
to any suspicion that he had any acquaintance with Schemselnihar.
For it was very well known all over Bagdad, that this slave belonged
to the Favorite, and that she employed her upon every occasion. He
continued to walk at the same rate till he came to a mosque, which
was but little frequented, and where he knew there would not be any
one at this time. The slave followed him into the mosque, and they
had there an opportunity of a long conversation without any
interruption.
Both the jeweller and the confidant of Schemselnihar felt great
pleasure in again seeing each other, after the singular adventure of
the robbers; and the fear each was in for the other, not to mention
the alarm they all were in on their own accounts. The jeweller
wished the confidential slave to inform him, in the first instance,
by what means she and the two slaves had been able to make their
escape, and if she had gained any intelligence of Schemselnihar
since he had seen her. The confidant herself, however, was so very
eager to learn what had happened to him since their unexpected
separation, that he was obliged to satisfy her. “This,” said he,
when he finished his relation, “is all that you wished to know
from me; now, therefore, I beg of you, inform me, in your turn, what
I before desired you.”
“As soon as I saw the robbers make their appearance,” said the
confidant, “I took them for some soldiers belonging to the
caliph’s guard; imagining that the caliph had been informed of the
excursions of Schemselnihar, and that he had sent them with orders
to kill her, the prince of Persia, and all of us. I, therefore,
instantly ran up to the terrace on the top of your house, while the
robbers went into the apartment where the prince and Schemselnihar
were; the other two slaves also made haste to follow my example. We
continued going on from the terrace of one house to another, till we
came to one belonging to some people of good character, who received
us with great kindness, and with whom we passed the night.
“The next morning, after thanking the master of the house for the
favor he had done us, we returned to Schemselnihar’s palace. When
we arrived, we were in the greatest confusion; and felt the more
distressed, as we were entirely ignorant of the destiny of these two
unfortunate lovers. The other female attendants of Schemselnihar
were much surprised at seeing us return without their mistress. We
told them we had previously agreed among ourselves, that we had left
her at the house of a lady, who was one of her friends; and that she
would send for us again, to accompany her back, when she intended to
return. With this excuse they were quite satisfied.
“In the mean time, I passed the day in the greatest uneasiness.
When night came on, I opened the small private gate, and saw a boat
upon the canal that branched off from the river, and terminated at
the gate. I called out to the boatman, and begged him to row on each
side of the river, and look if he could not see a lady; and, if he
met with one, to bring her over.
“We waited (for the two slaves were with me, and as much
distressed as myself,) in expectation of his return till midnight,
when the same boat came back, with two other men in it and a woman,
who was lying down in the stern. When the boat reached the shore,
the two men assisted the lady in getting up and landing. I
immediately discovered her to be Schemselnihar; and my joy at seeing
and finding her again was greater than I can possibly express to
you. I instantly gave her my hand, to assist her in getting out of
the boat, and she had no little need of my assistance, for it was
with difficulty that she supported herself; as soon as she was on
shore, she whispered in my ear, and in a tone which evinced her
sufferings, desired me to go and get a purse, containing a thousand
pieces of gold, and give it to the two soldiers who accompanied her.
I then gave her in charge to the two slaves to help her along, and
after desiring the soldiers to wait a moment, I ran for the purse,
and returned with it almost instantly. I gave it to them, paid the
boatman, and then shut the gate.
“I soon overtook Schemselnihar, who had not yet reached her
apartment. We lost no time in undressing and putting her to bed,
where she continued all night in such a state, as if her soul was on
the eve of quitting its habitation.
“The next day her other attendants expressed a great desire to see
her; but I told them she had returned home very much fatigued, and
had great want of repose to recruit her strength. In the mean time,
the other two slaves and myself afforded her all the assistance and
comfort we could devise, and which she could possibly expect from
our zeal. At first she seemed determined not to eat any thing, and
we should have despaired of her life, if we had perceived that the
wine we from time to time gave her, did not very much support and
strengthen her. At length, by means of our repeated entreaties, and
even prayers, we got her to eat something.
“As soon as I saw that she was able to speak without injury to
herself, for she had hitherto done nothing but shed tears, mixed
with sighs and groans, I requested her to do me the favor of
informing me by what fortunate accident she escaped from the power
of the robbers. ‘Why do you ask me,’ she replied, with a
profound sigh, ‘to bring to my recollection a subject that causes
me so much affliction? I wish to God the robbers had taken my life,
instead of preserving me. My evils would then have been at an end:
but now my sufferings will, I know, long continue to torment me.’
“‘Madam,’ I answered, ‘I beg of you not to refuse me. You
cannot be ignorant, that the unhappy sometimes derive a degree of
consolation from a relation even of their most painful adventures.
What I request, then, will be of service to you, if you will have
the goodness to comply.’