your misfortune. I brought you here to have you in my power, and to
make you suffer a thousand torments if you will not discover to me
your treasure. I will rack your body with tortures--will invent each
day new sufferings to render life insupportable: in a word, I will
never cease to persecute you until you deliver me those hidden
treasures which enable you to live with even more magnificence than
kings."
"You can do what you please," replied Aboulcassem; "I will never
reveal my treasure."
He had scarcely uttered these words, when the cruel Aboulfatah, making
his slaves seize the unfortunate son of Abdelaziz, drew from his robe
a whip made of twisted lion's skin, with which he struck so long and
with such violence that the young man fainted. When the vizir saw him
in this state, he commanded the slaves to replace him in the coffin,
and leaving him in the tomb, which he firmly secured, returned to his
palace.
On the morrow he went to inform the king of what he had done. "Sire,"
said he, "I tried yesterday, but in vain, to overcome the firmness of
Aboulcassem; however, I have now prepared torments for him which I
think he cannot resist."
The prince, who was quite as barbarous as his minister, said, "Vizir,
I am perfectly satisfied with all you have done. Ere long, I hope, we
shall know where this treasure is concealed. But we must send back the
courier without delay. What shall I write to the caliph?"
"Tell him, my lord, that Aboulcassem, hearing he was to occupy your
place, was so enchanted, and made such great rejoicings, that he died
suddenly at a feast."
The king approved of this advice, and writing immediately to
Haroun-al-Raschid, despatched the courier. The vizir, flattering
himself that he should at length be able to force Aboulcassem to
reveal his treasure, left the town, resolving to extract the secret or
leave him to perish. But on arriving at the tomb, he was surprised to
find the door open. He entered trembling, and not seeing the son of
Abdelaziz in the coffin, he nearly lost his senses. Returning
instantly to the palace, he related to the king what had occurred. The
monarch, seized with a mortal terror, exclaimed, "Oh, Waschi! what
will become of us? Since this young man has escaped, we are lost. He
will not fail to hasten to Bagdad, and acquaint the caliph with all
that has taken place."
Aboulfatah, on his part, in despair that the victim of his avarice was
no longer in his power, said to the king his master, "What would I now
give to have taken his life yesterday! He would not then have caused
us such uneasiness. But we will not quite despair yet; if he has taken
flight, as no doubt he has, he cannot be very far from here. Let me
take some soldiers of your guard, and search in all the environs of
the town; I hope still to find him."
The king instantly consented to so important a step. He assembled all
his soldiers, and dividing them into two bodies, gave the command of
one to his vizir, and placing himself at the head of the other,
prepared with his troops to search in all parts of his kingdom.
Whilst they were seeking Aboulcassem in the villages, woods, and
mountains, the vizir Giafar, who was already on the road to Basra, met
the courier returning, who said to him, "My lord, it is useless for
you to proceed further, if Aboulcassem is the sole cause of your
journey, for this young man is dead; his funeral took place some days
past; my eyes were witnesses of the mournful ceremony."
Giafar, who had looked forward with pleasure to see the new king, and
present his patents, was much afflicted at his death. He shed tears on
hearing the sad news, and, thinking it was useless to continue his
journey, retraced his steps. As soon as he arrived at Bagdad, he went
with the courier to the palace. The sadness of his countenance
informed the king he had some misfortune to announce.
"Ah, Giafar!" exclaimed the prince, "you have soon returned. What are
you come to tell me?'
"Commander of the faithful," answered the vizir, "you do not, I am
sure, expect to hear the bad news I am going to tell. Aboulcassem is
no more; since your departure from Basra the young man has lost his
life."
Haroun-al-Raschid had no sooner heard these words than he threw
himself from his throne. He remained some moments extended on the
ground without giving any signs of life. At length his eyes sought the
courier, who had returned from Basra, and he asked for the despatch.
The prince read it with much attention. He shut himself in his cabinet
with Giafar, and showed him the letter from the king of Basra. After
re-reading it many times, the caliph said,
"This does not appear to me natural; I begin to suspect that the king
of Basra and his vizir, instead of executing my orders, have put
Aboulcassem to death."
"My lord," said Giafar, "the same suspicion occurred to me, and I
advise that they should both be secured."
"That is what I determine from this moment," said Haroun; "take ten
thousand horsemen of my guard, march to Basra, seize the two guilty
wretches, and bring them here. I will revenge the death of this most
generous of men."
"We will now return to the son of Abdelaziz, and relate why the vizir
Aboulfatah did not find him in the tomb. The young man, after long
remaining insensible, was beginning to recover, when he felt himself
laid hold of by powerful arms, taken from the coffin, and gently laid
on the earth. He thought it was the vizir and his slaves come again on
their cruel errand.
"Executioners!" he cried, "put me to death at once; if you have any
pity spare me these useless torments, for again I declare that nothing
you can do will ever tempt me to reveal my secret."
"Fear not, young man," answered one of the persons who had lifted him
from the coffin; "instead of ill-treating you, we are come to your
assistance."
At these words Aboulcassem opened his eyes, and, looking at his
liberators, recognized the young lady to whom he had shown his
treasure.
"Ah, madam!" he said, "is it to you I owe my life?"
"Yes, my lord," answered Balkis; "to myself and prince Aly, my
betrothed, whom you see with me. Informed of your noble behaviour, he
wished to share with me the pleasure of delivering you from death."
"It is quite true," said prince Aly; "I would expose my life a
thousand times, rather than leave so generous a man to perish."
The son of Abdelaziz, having entirely recovered his senses by the help
of some cordials they had given him, expressed to the lady and the
prince his grateful thanks for the service they had rendered him, and
asked how they had been informed he still lived.
"My lord," said Balkis, "I am the daughter of the vizir Aboulfatah. I
was not deceived by the false report of your death. I suspected my
father in this affair, and, bribing one of his slaves, was informed of
all concerning you. This slave is one of the two who were with him in
the tomb, and as he had charge of the key he confided it to me for a
few hours. I no sooner made this affair known to prince Aly than he
hastened to join me with some of his confidential domestics. We lost
not a moment in coming hither, and, thanks be to heaven, we did not
arrive too late."
"Oh, Mahomet!" said Aboulcassem, "is it possible so unworthy and cruel
a father possesses such a daughter?"
"Let us depart, my lord," said prince Aly; "the time is precious. I
doubt not but that to-morrow the vizir, finding you have escaped, will
seek you in all directions. I am going to conduct you to my house,
where you will be in perfect safety, for no one will suspect me of
giving you an asylum."
They then covered Aboulcassem with a slave's robe, and all left the
tomb. Balkis proceeded to her father's, and returned the key to the
slave, whilst prince Aly took the son of Abdelaziz to his own palace,
and kept him so well concealed, that it was impossible his enemies
could discover him. Aboulcassem remained some time in prince Aly's
house, who treated him most kindly, until the king and his vizir,
despairing of finding him, gave up their search. The prince then gave
him a very beautiful horse, loaded him with sequins and precious
stones, and said to him:
"You can now safely depart; the roads are open, and your enemies know
not what is become of you. Hasten to seek a place where you will be
secure from harm."
The young man thanked this generous prince for his hospitality, and
assured him he should ever gratefully remember it. Prince Aly embraced
him, and prayed heaven to protect and watch over him on his journey.
Aboulcassem then took the road to Bagdad, and arrived there in safety
a few days afterwards. The first thing he did on entering the city was
to hasten to the place where the merchants usually assembled. The hope
of seeing there some one he had known at Basra, and of relating his
misfortunes, was his only consolation. He was vexed at being unable to
find this place, and traversing the town, sought in vain for the face
of a friend amongst the multitudes he met. Feeling fatigued, he
stopped before the caliph's palace to rest a little: the page whom he
had given to his former guest was then at a window, and the child
looking by chance that way, instantly recognized him. He ran to the
caliph's apartment.
"My lord," he exclaimed, "I have just seen my old master from Basra!"
Haroun put no faith in this report. "You are mistaken," he said;
"Aboulcassem no longer lives. Deceived by some fancied resemblance,
you have taken another for him."
"No, no, commander of the faithful; I assure you it is he: I am
certain I am not mistaken."
Though the caliph did not believe this assertion, still he wished to
fathom the mystery, and sent one of his officers with the page to see
the man the boy declared was the son of Abdelaziz. They found him in
the same place, for, imagining he had recognized his little page, he
waited till the child reappeared at the window. When the boy was
convinced he was not deceived, he threw himself at the feet of
Aboulcassem, who raised him, and asked if he had the honour of
belonging to the caliph.
"Yes, my lord," said the child; "it was to the commander of the
faithful himself--he it was whom you entertained at Basra--it was to
him that you gave me. Come with me, my lord; the caliph will be
delighted to see you."
The surprise of the young man at this speech was extreme. He allowed
himself to be conducted into the palace by the page and the officer,
and was soon ushered into the apartment of Haroun. The prince was
seated on a sofa. He was extremely affected at the sight of
Aboulcassem. He hastened towards the young man, and held him long
embraced without uttering a word, so much was he transported with joy.
When he recovered a little from his emotion he said to the son of
Abdelaziz:
"Young man, open your eyes, and recognize your happy guest. It was I
whom you received so hospitably, and to whom you gave presents that
kings could not equal."
At these words Aboulcassem, who was not less moved than the caliph,
and who from respect had drawn his cloak over his head, and had not
yet dared to look up, now uncovered his face, and said:
"Oh, my sovereign master! oh, king of the world, was it you who
honoured your slave's house?" And he threw himself at the feet of
Haroun, and kissed the floor before him.
"How is it," said the prince, raising him, and placing him on a sofa,
"that you are still alive? Tell me all that has happened to you."
[Illustration: ABOULCASSEM AND THE PAGE, p. 246.]
Aboulcassem then related the cruelties of Aboulfatah, and how he had
been preserved from the fury of that vizir. Haroun listened
attentively, and then said:
"Aboulcassem, I am the cause of your misfortunes. On my return to
Bagdad, wishing to repay my debt to you, I sent a courier to the king
of Basra, desiring him to resign his crown to you. Instead of
executing my orders, he resolved to take your life. Aboulfatah, by
putting you to the most frightful tortures, hoped to induce you to
reveal your treasures; that was the sole reason he delayed your death.
But you would have been revenged. Giafar, with a large body of my
troops, is gone to Basra. I have given him orders to seize your two
persecutors, and to bring them here. In the mean time you shall remain
in my palace, and be attended by my officers with as much respect as
myself."
After this speech he took the young man by the hand, and made him
descend to a garden, filled with the choicest flowers. There he saw
basins of marble, porphyry, and jasper, which served for reservoirs to
multitudes of beautiful fish. In the midst of the garden, supported
upon twelve lofty pillars of black marble, was a dome, the roof of
sandal wood and aloes. The spaces between the columns were closed by a
double trellis-work of gold, which formed an aviary containing
thousands of canaries of different colours, nightingales, linnets, and
other harmonious birds, who mingling their notes formed the most
charming concert. The baths of Haroun-al-Raschid were under this dome.
The prince and his guest took a bath, after which the attendants
rubbed them with the finest towels, which had never before been used.
They then clothed Aboulcassem in rich apparel. The caliph conducted
him to a chamber where refreshments awaited them, such as roasted
fowls and lamb, white soups, pomegranates from Amlas and Ziri, pears
from Exhali, grapes from Melah and Sevise, and apples from Ispahan.
After they had partaken of these delicacies, and drunk some delicious
wine, the caliph conducted Aboulcassem to Zobeide's apartment. This
princess was seated on a throne of gold, surrounded by her slaves, who
were ranged standing on each side of her; some had tambourines, others
flutes and harps. At that moment their instruments were mute, all
being attentively engaged in listening to a young girl whose charming
voice rang through the saloon like the warblings of a nightingale. As
soon as Zobeide perceived the caliph and the son of Abdelaziz, she
descended from her throne to receive them.
"Madam," said Haroun, "allow me to present to you my host of Basra."
The young man prostrated himself before the princess. At this moment
the vizir Giafar was heard returning with the troops, and bringing
with him Aboulfatah securely bound. As for the king of Basra, he was
left behind dying of grief and fright at not finding Aboulcassem.
Giafar had no sooner rendered an account of his mission, than the
caliph ordered a scaffold to be erected before the palace, to which
the wicked Aboulfatah was conducted. The people knowing the cruelty of
this vizir, instead of being touched with his misfortune, testified
the utmost impatience to witness his execution. The executioner was
already prepared, sabre in hand, to strike off the guilty man's head,
when the son of Abdelaziz prostrating himself before the caliph,
exclaimed, "Oh, commander of the faithful, yield to my prayers the
life of Aboulfatah! Let him live to witness my happiness, to behold
all the favours you are conferring upon me, and he will be
sufficiently punished."
"Oh, too generous Aboulcassem," replied the caliph, "you, indeed,
deserve a crown! Happy the people of Basra to have you for their
king."
"My lord, I have one more favour to ask. Give to the prince Aly the
throne you destined for myself. Let him reign, together with the lady
who had the generosity to avert from me the fury of her father; these
two lovers are worthy this honour. As to myself, cherished and
protected by the commander of the faithful, I have no need of a crown;
I shall be superior to kings."
The caliph assented to this proposal, and to recompense prince Aly for
the service he had rendered the son of Abdelaziz, sent him the
patents, and made him king of Basra; but finding Aboulfatah too guilty
to accord him liberty as well as life, he ordered the vizir to be shut
up in a dark tower for the remainder of his days. When the people of
Bagdad were informed that it was Aboulcassem himself who had begged
the life of his persecutor, they showered a thousand praises on the
generous young man, who soon after departed for Basra, escorted by a
troop of the caliph's guards, and a great number of his officers.
VIII.
THE OLD CAMEL.
Eggadi-ben-Yousouf, a merchant at Miliana, was a mere lover of gain;
he never gave away any thing in alms; his heart was dry as the earth
in the hottest days of summer, and never open to pity for the
unfortunate. To amass, to amass for ever was the sole desire of
Eggadi. But in what did his riches consist? None could say, for he
concealed them with the utmost care.
One day one of his camels having died, he bought to replace it the
only camel of Ali-Benala, a poor dealer in mats. This camel was the
sole heritage of which Ali came into possession at the death of his
father. He sold it for much less than its value;--Eggadi, who was an
adept at bargaining, depreciating it in every possible way, especially
on account of its extreme age.
On his next journey Eggadi added this camel to his little caravan. As
he was passing a solitary place, he was surprised to see the camel
betake itself with hasty steps to a spot at some distance behind some
rocks, and on its arrival there kneel down and groan, as camels
usually do when they expect to be unloaded. A negro, having run after
the animal, brought it back to its place in the caravan.
Eggadi soon took a second journey on the same road, and on this
occasion too the camel sold him by Ali-Benala again quitted the rank,
and was again observed to kneel down and groan at the same place.
This time Eggadi followed it, and saw with surprise that the spot at
which it stopped was one where no merchant of any country had been
ever known to unload his merchandise. He reflected deeply on this
circumstance, and in the end resolved to revisit the spot alone with
the camel, who, faithful perhaps to some recollection, might, he
thought, be the means of disclosing to him some mysterious act, or
perhaps the place where a treasure lay concealed.
Eggadi returned, in short, soon after, to this solitary spot. He had
brought with him a spade, and proceeded to dig with care around the
camel, who had invariably knelt in the same place. He had scarcely
laboured ten minutes ere he discovered traces of another spade; this
redoubled his zeal, and soon after, to his intense satisfaction, he
came upon some bags of money, then a coffer firmly shut, but which
contained, he could not doubt, objects of costly value. He first took
the bags, which were filled with good and true Spanish doubloons; with
these he loaded his camel, who thus had gained nothing but a double
burden for his pains; then, having re-covered with stones and sand the
precious coffer, which he resolved upon examining another time, he
returned with his mind greatly preoccupied, asking himself whether it
must not have been the old father of Ali-Benala to whom all the wealth
he had just discovered formerly belonged.
This question, which he could not help addressing to his conscience
over and over again, prevented him from fully enjoying the possession
of his treasure. Although he dearly loved money, yet Eggadi to obtain
possession of it had never yet plundered the widow and the orphan. The
first step in the road to evil is not accomplished without difficulty
and without remorse; Eggadi painfully experienced the truth of this.
"And yet," said he to himself, "I made a fair bargain with poor Ali
for this very camel which has been the means of my finding a
treasure."
Before going to take possession of the coffer left underground behind
the rocks, Eggadi, impelled by his conscience, approached the
miserable shop where Ali carried on the sale of his mats, and said to
him:
"How comes it, Ali, that your father, rich as it is said he was, left
you no fortune, only an old camel and a house in ruins?"
"Ah!" replied Ali, "my father was good to the poor. Not only did he
call every poor man his brother, but assisted him to the utmost of his
power. At times, however, I have suspected that my father may have had
riches concealed in some spot, and that he intended to bestow them
upon me before he died. And I will tell you what led me to suppose so.
"A few moments before his death he sent for me, and said: 'I have a
great secret to confide to thee. Come close to me that my voice may
reach thy ear alone: but before our conversation, my son, let us pray
to Allah to grant us on this solemn day that which is best for us.'
"We prayed, and in ten minutes my father was no more. Allah, no doubt,
judged that that which was best for me was poverty. Allah be praised."
Ali bowed his head profoundly, laying his hand upon his breast.
Eggadi, much disturbed at the virtuous resignation of Ali-Benala,
rejoined:
"But thinkest thou, that if good fortune befel thee, thou wouldst know
how to make good use of it?"
"Allah alone knows," said Ali. "Should he ever see fit to make me
rich, he will know how to fit me for the change. For myself, I cannot
succeed in improving the poverty of my estate. I work incessantly, but
nothing succeeds with me. My oxen, if I have any, drown themselves in
crossing a torrent; my goods either do not sell or are damaged. I am
destined to possess upon this earth nothing but this miserable hut,
which has been my only home for ten years, But what matters it,
provided I fulfil the law of the prophet? I shall see Abraham, in
heaven. If at times my poverty renders me uneasy, it is only for the
sake of my poor children, who live miserably in a house as open to the
wind and the rain as though it were without a roof."
"Well," said Eggadi, "it is certainly not just that such an honest man
as thou should be in such a wretched state of poverty."
"How! not just!" replied Ali. "Are there not, then, many honest men
who are no richer than myself?"
"That may be," said Eggadi. "Nevertheless, since thy father was rich,
it seems to be but just that thou shouldst be so too, and I come to
propose to thee to enter into partnership with me. I have two good
houses outside the town; one shall be for thy family, the other for
mine. We will live as brothers, and unite our children as in the time
of the patriarchs."
Ali remained greatly astonished at such a proposition, coming
especially from Eggadi-ben-Yousouf, who had never had any friendship
for him, and who so far from evincing any generosity towards him, had
bargained with him for his poor camel like the veriest Jew in the
world.
He therefore remained silent, neither accepting nor refusing the
offer, but looking with an abstracted air upon the mats in his
miserable dwelling.
"Well," said Eggadi, ashamed at the bottom of his heart at making this
show of generosity to one whom he was secretly despoiling, "well, thou
dost not reply to me?"
"Grant me time to imitate the example of my father by invoking Allah
before taking a resolution," said Ali. "Allah alone can know whether
it will be best for me to keep at once my poverty and the freedom of
all my actions, or to accept opulence and with it the necessity of
being always of thy opinion; for bringing into our partnership nothing
but my two stout arms, I should be an ingrate if I did not yield in
every thing to thy wishes."
Eggadi involuntarily cast down his eyes before this poor man who spoke
with so much wisdom.
"Well," said he again, "reflect till to-morrow, and come to me in the
morning under the palm trees in front of my house; I will there await
thee."
Then these two men separated. Ali, praying in the mosque, thought he
heard his father pronounce these words. "Never associate thyself save
with him who has no more than thyself, and who already knows the right
way. The good are spoilt by associating with the rogue and the miser,
whilst neither rogue nor miser is reformed by association with one
better than himself."
The next morning Ali repaired to the palm trees which grew before the
house of Eggadi, where the latter awaited him uneasy and fatigued
after a sleepless night. After the usual Mussulman salutation,
Ali-Benala said to the rich Eggadi:
"How comes it that thou appearest sad, thou who possessest fine
houses, coffers of gold, and merchandise, whilst I, I who have
nothing, rise with a joyous heart, and smoke my pipe all day with
pleasure, seated on the threshold of my poor shop?"
"The weight of business overwhelms me," replied Eggadi; "I have great
need of some one to share it."
"Then why not diminish thy transactions, and live in peace?" inquired
Ali.