“‘Listen then,’ she said, ‘to a narrative of circumstances

the most distressing that can possibly happen to any one so much in

love as I am, and who thought herself almost at the completion of

her wishes. When I saw the robbers enter, with a sabre in one hand

and a poniard in the other, I concluded the very last moment of my

existence was at hand, and that the prince of Persia was in equal

danger. I did not indeed lament my own death from the satisfaction I

felt, that we should die together. Instead, however, of instantly

falling upon us, and plunging their weapons into our hearts, as I

fully expected, two of the robbers were ordered to guard us, while

the others were engaged in packing up whatever they could find in

the room where we were, and in the other apartments. When they had

done this, and had taken all the plunder upon their shoulders, they

went out, and made us go with them.

“‘While we were on the way, one of those, who accompanied us,

demanded our names. I told him, that I was a dancer. He asked the

same question of the prince, who said, that he was a citizen.

“‘When we had arrived at their dwelling, we experienced new

alarms. They first collected round me, and after examining my dress,

and the valuable jewels with which I was adorned, they seemed very

much to doubt my rank. ‘A dancing girl,’ said they, ‘is not

likely to be dressed like you. Tell us truly who you are.’

“‘As they found I was not inclined to give them any answer, they

put the same question to the prince of Persia. ‘Inform us,’ they

cried, ‘who you are. We see well enough, that you are not a common

person, as you wish us to believe by your former answer.’ He,

however, gave them no greater satisfaction than I had done. He only

told them, that he had come on a visit to a certain jeweller, whose

name he mentioned, in order to amuse himself, and that the house

where they found us belonged to him.

“‘I know that jeweller,’ cried one of the robbers, who seemed

to have some authority among them; ‘and I am under some

obligations to him, although he is not perhaps aware of it: I know,

also, that he has another house. To-morrow I will make it my

business to bring him hither, and we will not release you till we

know from him who you are. In the mean time, be assured that no harm

shall be done to you.’

“‘The jeweller was brought here the next day, and as he thought

to oblige us, and in fact he did so, he informed the robbers

precisely who we were. They immediately came and begged my pardon,

and I believe they did the same to the prince, who was in another

apartment. They protested to me, at the same time, that if they had

known that the house where they discovered us belonged to the

jeweller, they would not have broken it open. They then took us all

three, and conducted us to the banks of the Tigris; they made us go

on board a boat, by which we crossed the water; but, at the very

instant of landing, a party of the guard came up to us on horseback.

“‘I took the commander aside, told him my name, and also that on

the evening before, as I was visiting one of my friends, the robbers

met and stopped me, and then carried me with them; and that it was

not till I had informed them who I was, that they would release me.

That on my account, also, they set at liberty the two persons he

then saw with me, because I assured them I knew who they were. The

officer of the guard immediately alighted, as a mark of his respect,

and after expressing his joy at being able to oblige me in any

thing, he ordered two boats to come to the shore, into one of which

he put me and two of his people, whom you saw, and who escorted me

hither. The prince of Persia and the jeweller embarked in the other

with two more of his soldiers, who went with and conducted them

safely home.

“‘I hope,’ added Schemselnihar, with her eyes swimming in

tears, as she finished this account, ‘that no fresh misfortune has

happened to them since our separation, and I firmly believe, that

the grief and distress of the prince is equal to mine. The jeweller,

who has served us with so much zeal and affection, deserves, at

least, to be recompensed for the loss he has sustained through his

friendship for us; do not, therefore, fail to take him to-morrow

morning, as from me, two purses with a thousand pieces of gold in

each; and gain, at the same time, some intelligence from him

concerning the prince of Persia.’

“When my good mistress had concluded her story, I endeavoured, on

her giving me this last order, to obtain some information of the

prince of Persia, to persuade her to make use of every method to

conquer her feelings after the danger she had just encountered, and

from which she had escaped only, as it were, by a miracle. ‘Make

no reply,’ she called out, ‘but do as I command you.’

“I was, therefore, obliged to hold my tongue, and immediately set

out to obey her orders. I first proceeded to your house, where I did

not find you; and, from the uncertainty whether I should meet with

you at the place where they told me you were gone, I was on the

point of going to the prince of Persia’s, but was afraid to make

the attempt. I left the two purses, as I went past, with a person of

my acquaintance. If you will wait here a little while for me, I will

go and fetch them.”

The confidential slave then departed, but returned to the mosque,

where she had left the jeweller, almost directly. “Here,” said

she, giving him the two purses, “take these, and make a

compensation to your friends for their losses.”--“There is much

more,” replied the jeweller, “than is necessary for that

purpose: but I dare not refuse the present, which so kind and

generous a lady wishes to make to the humblest of her slaves. I beg

you to assure her, that I shall for ever preserve the recollection

of her kindness.” He then made an agreement with the confidant,

that she should come and inquire for him at the house where she had

first met him, whenever she had any thing to communicate from

Schemselnihar, or wished to gain any intelligence of the prince of

Persia. After this they separated.

The jeweller returned home very well satisfied, not only with the

ample sum of money he had received for the purpose of making up the

loss his friends had suffered, but also from the idea, that he was

sure no person in Bagdad knew that the prince of Persia and

Schemselnihar had been discovered in his other house, which had been

robbed. It is true, he had acquainted the robbers themselves with

it, but he was tolerably secure of their secrecy, from its being

mutual. Besides, they, he thought, did not mix sufficiently with the

world to fear any danger from them, even if they did divulge it. The

next morning he saw those friends, to whom he was under such

obligations, and he had no difficulty in giving them perfect

satisfaction. And, after all, he had enough money remaining to

furnish his other house again very properly. He did this, and sent

some of his domestics to inhabit it. While thus employed, he quite

forgot the danger which he had so lately escaped from; and in the

evening he went to visit the prince of Persia.

The officers and attendants of the prince, who received him, told

him he arrived very opportunely, for that the prince, since he left

him, was in such a state as to alarm them for his life; and that

they had not been able to get him to speak a single word. They

introduced him into his chamber without making the least noise; and,

he found the prince lying in his bed, with his eyes shut, and in a

state which very much excited his compassion. He saluted him, took

him by the hand, and exhorted him to keep up his spirits.

The prince of Persia perceived that it was the jeweller who spoke to

him; he opened his eyes, and gave him such a look as plainly evinced

how much he was afflicted, and how much more he now suffered than

when he first saw Schemselnihar. He took hold of him, and pressed

his hand as a mark of his friendship; and, at the same time said,

though in the most feeble tone of voice, how much he felt himself

obliged to him for the trouble he took in coming to see so

unfortunate and wretched a being as he was.

“Talk not, I beseech you, prince,” said the jeweller, “of the

obligations you are under to me. I wish, most earnestly, that the

good offices which I endeavor to do you were attended with more

success. Let us only think of your health. From the state you are

now in, I fear you suffer yourself to be too much depressed, and

that you do not take so much nourishment as is absolutely

necessary.”

The attendants who were in waiting, seized this opportunity to

inform the jeweller, that they had tried every method in their power

to induce him to eat something, but all their efforts were

ineffectual, and that the prince had taken nothing for a great

length of time. This compelled the jeweller to request the prince of

Persia to suffer his servants to bring some nourishment for him to

take, and after much entreaty he at length obtained his consent.

When the prince of Persia had eaten, through the persuasions of the

jeweller, much more than he had hitherto done, he ordered his people

to retire, that he might be alone with him. And after they were gone

out, he addressed these words to him: “Added to the misfortune

which overwhelms me, I feel very great pain for the loss that you

have suffered from your regard to me; and, it is but just, that I

should think of some means to recompense you: but in the first

place, after requesting you most earnestly to pardon me, I entreat

you to inform me, if you have heard any thing of Schemselnihar,

after I was compelled to separate myself from her.”

As the jeweller had before received the whole account from

Schemselnihar’s confidential slave, he now related what he knew of

her arrival at her own palace, and of the state she had been in from

that moment, till she felt herself so much better as to be able to

send her confidant to get some intelligence of him.

To this speech of the jeweller the prince answered only by his sighs

and tears. He then made an effort to get up; he called his people,

and went himself to the room where he kept his valuables, and

ordered it to be opened; he then made them take out many pieces of

rich furniture and plate, and ordered them to be carried to the

jeweller’s.

The jeweller wished to decline accepting the present of the prince

of Persia; but although he represented to him, that Schemselnihar

had already sent him much more than sufficient to replace every

thing that his friends had lost, the prince nevertheless would be

obeyed. The only thing, therefore, the jeweller could do, was to

acknowledge how much he felt confused at his great liberality, and

to assure him, he could not be sufficiently thankful for his

kindness. He then wished to take his leave; but the prince desired

him to remain, and they passed the greatest part of the night in

conversation.

The jeweller saw the prince again the next morning before he went

away, when the latter made him sit down near him. “You know very

well,” said he, “that there must be an end to every thing. The

sole object and end of a lover is to obtain possession of her he

loves, without restraint: if he once loses sight of this hope, it is

certain, that he can no longer wish to live. This, you must be well

convinced, is the miserable situation in which I am. Twice, when I

have fancied myself at the very consummation of my wishes, at that

very instant have I been torn from the object of my affections in

the most cruel manner. I have now, therefore, only to think of

death. I would myself be the cause of its immediate presence, but

that my religion prevents my becoming a self-murderer. I feel,

however, that I have no occasion to hasten its approach; because I

am well convinced I shall not have long to expect it.” With these

words he concluded his speech, and then gave full scope to his

tears, nor did he endeavour to suppress his sighs and his

lamentations.

The jeweller, who knew not what better method to pursue, to lead his

attention from this hopeless and despairing train of thinking, than

by recalling Schemselnihar to his recollection, and holding out some

slight ray of hope, told him, that he was afraid the confidant was

already come; and it would not, therefore, be right that he should

lose any time in going home. “I permit you to go,” said the

prince, “but if you see her, I entreat you to urge her to assure

Schemselnihar, that if I die, as I expect will very soon be the

case, I shall adore her with my last breath, nor will my affection

cease even in the tomb.”

The jeweller then returned home, and remained there, in hopes that

the slave would soon make her appearance. She, in fact, arrived a

few hours after; but bathed in tears, and in the greatest disorder.

Greatly alarmed at seeing her in this condition, the jeweller

eagerly inquired what was the matter.

“We are all undone,” cried she; “Schemselnihar, the prince of

Persia, you, myself, every one of us are lost. Listen to the

terrible news I learnt yesterday, when I left you and returned to

the palace.

“Schemselnihar had ordered one of the two slaves, who were with us

at your house, to be punished for some fault or other. Enraged at

this ill-treatment, this slave, finding a door of the palace open,

ran out, and we have no doubt but that she went and told every thing

to one of the eunuchs of our guard, who has afforded her a retreat.

“Nor is this all: the other slave, her companion, is also fled,

and has taken refuge in the palace of the caliph, to whom, we have

every reason to believe, she has revealed all she knew; and what

confirms this opinion is, that the caliph sent this morning twenty

eunuchs to bring Schemselnihar to his palace. I found the means to

steal away, and to come and give you information of all this. I know

not what has passed, but I conjecture nothing good. Whatever it may

be, I entreat you to be quite secret.

The confidant then added, that she thought it would be proper to go,

without losing a moment, and find the prince of Persia, and to

inform him of the whole affair, that he might hold himself in

readiness for any turn the event might take; and also that he might

be true and faithful to the common cause. She said not another word,

but suddenly went away, without even waiting for an answer.

And what indeed could the jeweller have answered in the state this

speech put him in! He remained motionless, like a person stunned by

a blow. He was nevertheless aware, that the business required

decisive and prompt measures. He, therefore, made all the haste he

could to the prince of Persia’s, and as soon as he saw him, he

accosted him in a way that instantly showed he was the messenger of

bad news. “Prince,” he cried, “arm yourself with patience,

constancy, and courage; prepare for an attack, the most dreadful you

have ever encountered.”

“Tell me,” exclaimed the prince, “in two words, what has

happened, and do not thus keep me in suspense. I am ready to die, if

it be necessary.”

The jeweller then related to him every thing he had heard from the

confidential slave. “You see,” added he, “that your

destruction is inevitable. Get up then, and endeavour instantly to

save yourself. The time is precious. You ought not to expose

yourself to the rage of the caliph, still less to confess any thing,

although you should be in the midst of torments.”

Very little more would at this moment have actually destroyed the

prince, so much was he already broken down by affliction, sorrow,

and terror. He at length recollected himself, and inquired of the

jeweller what plan he advised him to pursue in so critical a

conjuncture, and when he had only an instant to take advantage of

it. “There is nothing to be done,” replied the jeweller, “but

to get on horse-back as soon as possible, take the road to Anbar,

and endeavour to arrive there before daylight to-morrow. Let as many

of your people accompany you as you think necessary, and some good

horses, and suffer me to save myself with you.”

The prince of Persia, who knew of no better method to pursue, gave

orders to have prepared barely as much as was necessary for the

journey; carried some money and jewels with him, and after taking

leave of his mother, set out, and hastened as much as possible to

get at a distance from Bagdad, in company with the jeweller, and the

attendants he had chosen.

They travelled the rest of the day, and most of the following night,

without making any stop on the road, till about two or three hours

before day, when the fatigue of so long a journey, and the absolute

inability of their horses to proceed, compelled them to alight, and

take some little repose.

They had hardly had time to breathe, before they were attacked by a

considerable troop of robbers. They defended themselves for some

time with the greatest courage, till all the attendants of the

prince were killed: the prince and the jeweller then laid down their

arms, and yielded at discretion. The robbers gave them their lives;

and after taking their horses and baggage, they rifled and even

stripped their persons, and then retiring with their plunder, left

them in the same place.

The robbers were no sooner at some distance, than the prince said to

the jeweller, who was in the utmost distress, “Well, what think

you of our late adventure, and the state we are now left in? Do you

not rather wish that I had remained at Bagdad waiting there for my

death, in what manner soever it might have been

inflicted!”--“Prince,” replied the jeweller, “we must submit

to the decrees of the Almighty. It is his will that we should suffer

affliction upon affliction. Our business is not to murmur, but to

receive every thing, whether good or evil, from his hands with

absolute submission. Let us not, however, stop here; but proceed,

and endeavour to find out some place, where we shall be able to

obtain relief under our misfortune.”

“Let me alone,” cried the prince of Persia, “and suffer me to

end my days in this place; for of what consequence is it where I

breathe my last. Perhaps, at the very instant we are now speaking,

Schemselnihar is herself no more; and it is neither my wish nor even

in my power, to live a moment after her.” The jeweller at length,

with much intreaty, persuaded him to move. They walked on for a long

time, and at last came to a mosque, which they found open. They went

in, and passed the rest of the night there.

At day-break, there was only one person came into the mosque. He

said his prayers, and when he had finished them, as he was going out

he perceived the prince of Persia and the jeweller, who were seated

in one corner. He went up to them, and saluted them with great

civility. “You seem to me,” he said to them, “if I may judge

from your appearance, to be strangers.” The jeweller, who took

upon himself to speak, answered, “You are not wrong in your

supposition. Last night, in coming along the road from Bagdad, we

were robbed, as you may conjecture from the state we are in; and we

have great need of assistance, but know not to whom to

apply.”--“If you will take the trouble,” replied the stranger,

“to come to my house, I will very readily give you all the help

and assistance in my power.”

On hearing this obliging offer, the jeweller turned towards the

prince of Persia, and whispered in his ear, that he thought this man

did not know either of them, and that they had some reason to think

it possible another might come, who would recognise them. “We

ought not, therefore,” said he, “to refuse the favor which this

good man does us.”--“You are master,” replied the prince, “I

agree to every thing you wish.”

As the stranger saw the prince and the jeweller consulting together,

he thought that they made some difficulty in accepting the proposal

he had made them. He asked, therefore, on what they had determined,

“We are ready to follow you,” replied the jeweller, “but what

affords us the greatest distress is, that we are almost naked, and

are therefore ashamed to appear in this condition.” Fortunately,

however, the man had sufficient clothes about him, to be able to

bestow enough on them to cover them in their way to his house. And

they were no sooner arrived, than their host ordered some clothes to

be brought for each of them; and, as he naturally imagined that they

were greatly in want of food, and would also be much more at ease by

themselves, he sent a female slave with a variety of dishes. They

scarcely, however, touched any thing, particularly the prince, who

was reduced to such a languid state, and was so worn out, that the

jeweller felt considerable alarms for his life.

Their host visited them several times during the day; but he left

them early in the evening, as he knew they stood in great need of

repose. The jeweller, however, was obliged, almost immediately, to

call him again, to help him in attending on the prince of Persia,

who, he thought, was very near dying. He perceived that his

respiration was difficult and rapid, and from this he judged he had

only a few moments to live. He went up to him, when the prince said,

“It is, as you must perceive, all over with me; and I am well

satisfied, that you should be a witness to the last sigh I shall

ever breathe; I resign my life with much satisfaction, nor need I

inform you why I do so. You know it. All the regret I feel is, that

I do not breathe my last in the arms of my dearest mother, who has

always shown the tenderest affection for me; and for whom, I trust,

my respect has ever been such as was proper. She will suffer much,

from not having the melancholy consolation of closing my eyes, and

even of burying me with her own hands. Tell her, I beg of you, the

pain I suffer; and request her, as from me, to have my body conveyed

to Bagdad, chat she may water my grave with her tears, and may

afford me the benefit of her prayers.” He did not forget the

master of the house where he was; and thanked him for the generous

reception he had given him, and after requesting that his body might

be preserved in his house, till they came to bury it, he expired.

The day after the death of the prince of Persia, the jeweller took

advantage of a large caravan, which happened at that time to be

going to Bagdad; where he arrived in safety. He immediately went to

his own house, and having changed his dress, he proceeded to that of

the deceased prince of Persia, where they were all much alarmed at

not seeing the prince himself come back with him. He desired the

attendants to inform the prince’s mother, that he wished to speak

to her; and it was not long before they introduced him into a hall,

where she was surrounded by many of her females. “Madam,” said

the jeweller on entering, but in a tone and manner that evidently

proved he was the messenger of ill news, “may God preserve you,

and heap abundance of his favors upon you. You are not ignorant,

that the Almighty disposes of us as he pleases.”

The lady gave the jeweller no time to say more, “Ah,” she

exclaimed, “you come to announce the death of my son!” She

instantly uttered the most melancholy cries, which, together with

those made by her women, renewed the grief, and made the tears of

the jeweller flow afresh. She continued to suffer these torments,

and remained a long time overcome by affliction, before she would

permit the jeweller to go on with what he had to say. She at length

suppressed for a time her lamentations and tears, and begged him to

continue his account, and not to conceal any circumstance of this

melancholy separation. He satisfied her; and when he had concluded,

she asked him if the prince her son had not charged him with any

thing in particular to say to her, when he was at the extremity of

his life. He assured her, that he only expressed the greatest regret

at breathing his last at a distance from her, and that the only

thing he wished was, that she would take care and have his body

brought to Bagdad. Early, therefore, the next morning, she set out,

accompanied by all her women, and a considerable part of her slaves.

When the jeweller, who had been detained by the mother of the prince

of Persia, had seen her take her departure, he returned home in the

most melancholy state of mind: his eyes cast down, and himself

deeply regretting the death of so accomplished and amiable a prince,

in the very flower of his age.

The Arabian Nights, Volume II of IV · 第 17 / 29 段