impudent enough to venture into your palace, and show himself before
you, the very sight of whom ought to frighten the guilty. Great judge,
condescend to protect us."
I now approached the cadi, in order to address him, but having no
presents to make to him, I found it impossible to get him to listen to
my story. The calm and unmoved aspect with which I spoke to him,
proceeding from the testimony of a good conscience, was thought by the
cadi's prejudiced mind to arise from impudence, and he ordered his
archers to convey me instantly to prison, an order which they lost no
time in executing. So that while I, an innocent man, was loaded with
chains, my partners departed, not only unpunished but in triumph, and
well persuaded that a new miracle would require to be wrought to
deliver me from the hands of the cadi.
And, indeed, my escape from my present difficulty might not have been
of so fortunate a nature as that from drowning, had not an incident
occurred which showed the goodness of Heaven still visibly displayed
on my behalf. The peasants who had brought me to Ormus, having heard
by chance that I had been put in prison, moved with compassion, went
to the cadi, and told him in what way they had fallen in with me,
together with all the details which they had heard from myself on the
mountain.
This recital began to open the eyes of the judge, and caused him to
regret that he had not listened to me. He forthwith resolved to
investigate the matter; and first of all sent to the caravansary to
inquire for the two merchants, but they had hastily decamped, and
returned on board the ship, which had put to sea; for in spite of the
bias of the cadi in their favour they had taken the alarm. Their rapid
flight effectually convinced the judge that I had been committed to
prison unjustly, and he gave orders to set me at liberty. Such was the
termination of the partnership I had entered into with the two honest
jewellers.
As one saved from drowning, and the hands of justice, (or rather
injustice,) I might well have considered myself eminently bound to
return thanks to the Almighty. My situation, however, was such as to
render me rather indifferent as to what might happen to me; for I was
without money, without friends, without credit, and reduced either to
subsist on charity, or to perish of hunger. I quitted Ormus, without
knowing what would become of me, and walked in the direction of the
prairie of Lar, which is between the mountains and the Persian Gulf.
On arriving there, I met a caravan of merchants from Hindostan, who
were setting out for Schiras, and, joining myself to them, I gained a
subsistence by rendering myself useful on trifling occasions. On our
arrival at Schiras, where the shah Tahmaspe held his court, I stopped
for some time in that city.
One day, when returning from the great mosque to the caravansary where
I lodged, I saw an officer of the king of Persia, richly dressed and
very handsome; looking at me attentively, he came up to me and said,
"Young man, from what country do you come; for I see you are a
stranger, and evidently not in a very prosperous condition?" I
replied, that I came from Bagdad, and that his conjecture was but too
well founded. I then related my history more at length, to which he
listened attentively, and with much feeling for my misfortunes. He
next asked me how old I was; and when I told him that I was nineteen
years of age, he desired me to follow him, and walking before me
proceeded to the king's palace, which I entered along with him.
Conducting me into a very elegant apartment, he asked me, "What is
your name?" I replied, "Aswad;" he then asked many other questions,
and being satisfied with my replies, said at last:
"Aswad, your misfortunes have affected me greatly, and I wish to
assist you as a father: I am the capi-aga[11] of the king of Persia;
there is now a place vacant for a new page, and I have appointed you
to it. You are young and handsome, and I cannot make a better choice,
for there is not one among the present pages who surpasses you in good
looks."
I thanked the capi-aga for his kindness, and he forthwith took me
under his command, and caused me to be equipped in the dress of a
page. I was made acquainted with my duties, which I soon learned to
discharge in such a manner as to gain the esteem of the zuluflis[12],
and to confer honour on my protector.
There was a rule that no page of the twelve chambers should, under
pain of death, remain in the gardens of the seraglio after a certain
hour, when the women were accustomed occasionally to walk there. The
same rule extended to all the officers of the palace and the soldiers
of the guard. Being in the gardens one evening quite alone, and musing
on my misfortunes, I became so lost in thought that I did not perceive
that the proper time for men to leave the gardens was already past:
knowing that no time was to be lost, I quickened my pace in order to
enter the palace, when just as I was turning the corner of one of the
walks, a lady appeared before me. She was of a majestic stature, and
in spite of the darkness I could see that she was both young and
beautiful. "You are in a great hurry," she remarked; "what can it be
that obliges you to walk so fast?"
"I have very good reasons for doing so," I replied, "and if you belong
to the palace, as doubtless you do, you cannot be ignorant of them.
You know that men are forbidden to appear in the gardens after a
certain hour, and that whoever breaks this rule suffers death."
"You have been rather slow in remembering the rule," replied the lady,
"for the hour is long past; however, on another account you may thank
your stars you have loitered, for if you had not, you would not have
met with me."
"How unfortunate for me that I should have mistaken the time," I
exclaimed, thinking only that I had placed my life in danger.
"Don't reproach yourself," said the lady; "if you do, I shall feel
offended. You ought to look on your misfortune to be rather a source
of congratulation. It is very true that the danger in which you are
placed presents ideas disagreeable enough, but it is not quite so
certain that you will be beheaded, for the king is a good prince, who
may be induced to forgive you. Who are you?"
"I am one of the pages," I replied.
"Indeed!" she exclaimed, "you make very wise observations for a page;
the grand vizir could not make better. Well, don't distress yourself
about what may happen to-morrow, the events of which are hidden from
you, and are only known to Heaven, which has perhaps even now prepared
a means of escape for you. Leave then the future to take care of
itself, and think only of the present. If you knew who I am, and the
great honour conferred upon you by this adventure, instead of
poisoning the precious moments by bitter reflections, you would esteem
yourself the most fortunate of mortals."
By such animating language the lady at length dispelled my fears: the
idea of the punishment which threatened me vanished from my mind as I
abandoned myself to the flattering ideas which she held out to me, and
I proceeded somewhat over ardently to ingratiate myself with my
companion. The next moment, however, as if at a signal from her, I
found myself surrounded by ten or a dozen women who had concealed
themselves close by, in order to listen to our conversation. It was
easy now to see that the woman who had played me this trick was
laughing at me. I supposed she was one of the female slaves of the
princess of Persia who was desirous of having a little amusement at my
expense. All the other women ran quickly to her assistance, and,
bursting into laughter, began to surround me, and to joke with me.
One remarked that I was of a lively character, and well fitted for an
amusing companion. "If I should ever walk all alone at night," said
another, "I hope I shall meet with somebody quite as clever as this
page." Their pleasantries put me quite out of countenance, while every
now and then they laughed outrageously, and I felt as ashamed as if
they had rallied me for being too bashful. They even made themselves
merry at my having permitted the hour for leaving the gardens to
escape me, and said that it would be a pity if I were to die on that
account; and that I well deserved to live since I was so devoted to
the service of the ladies. The first one then, whom I had heard
addressed as Cale-Cairi, said to another, "It is for you, my princess,
to determine respecting his lot: is it your wish that he should be
abandoned to his fate, or shall we lend him our assistance?"
"He must be saved from the danger he is in," replied the princess: "I
give my consent for him to live; and, indeed, to the end that he may
remember this adventure of his for a long time to come, we must make
it still more agreeable to him; let him come to my apartments."
When I entered the chamber of Zelica Begum--for such was her name, and
she was the princess of Persia--she inquired my name, and how long I
had been a page. When I had satisfied her curiosity on these points
she said:
"Well, Aswad, make yourself at home, and forget that you are in an
apartment which is forbidden to be entered by any man: forget that I
am Zelica: speak to us as if you were with a party of young ladies,
the daughters of plain citizens of Schiras: look attentively at all
these young women, and tell me frankly which one among us all you like
best."
Although Zelica's slaves were perfectly beautiful, and the princess
herself might be considered to have a just claim to the preference, my
heart decided at once in favour of the charming Cale-Cairi; but
concealing sentiments which would seem to cast Zelica into the shade,
I said to her that she ought not to place herself in the same rank
with the others, or contend with her slaves for the possession of my
heart, for that her beauty was such that wherever she was seen, all
eyes must be directed to her, and her alone. While speaking thus,
however, I could not resist looking at Cale-Cairi in a way which would
make her think that my language had been dictated by courtesy alone,
and not by the real feelings of my breast. Zelica noticing this, said,
"Aswad, you flatter me too much: you must be more candid: I am certain
that you have not spoken your real sentiments, and you must really
answer me truly in reply to my question: open your inmost soul to us:
we all beg you to do this, and you cannot confer a greater pleasure
both on myself and all my slaves." Yielding at last to their urgent
requests, I threw off my timidity, and addressing myself to Zelica, I
said:
"I will then endeavour to comply with your highness's wishes: it would
be difficult to decide which of the exquisitely beautiful assemblage
before me is the most beautiful, but I will avow to you that the
amiable Cale-Cairi is the lady for whom the inclinations of my heart
plead the most strongly."
Zelica, instead of being offended by my boldness, replied: "I am well
pleased, Aswad, that you have given the preference to Cale-Cairi; she
is my favourite, and that is sufficient to prove that your taste is
not bad. You do not know the full worth of the fair lady whom you have
chosen: we unite in owning that she excels us all."
The princess and her slaves now began to banter Cale-Cairi on the
triumph which her charms had achieved--and she received all their
witticisms in very good part. Zelica then ordered a lute to be
brought, and placing it in Cale's hands, said to her, "Show your lover
what you can do with it," and she played upon it in a style which
enchanted me, accompanying it at the same time with her voice in a
song which indicated that when a lover has made choice of a suitable
object, he ought to love that dear one for ever. An old slave at
length came to inform us that daylight was approaching, and that there
was no time to be lost, if it were intended that I should quit the
apartments in safety. Zelica then told me to follow the slave, who led
me through many galleries, and by many windings and turnings, until we
reached a little gate of which she had the key; and on the door being
opened, I went out, and as it was now daylight, I saw that I was no
longer in the palace. A few hours after I rejoined my companions.
Eight days after this, an eunuch came to the door of the king's
apartments, and said that he wished to speak with me. I went to him
and inquired what he wanted.
"Is not your name Aswad?" he asked.
I replied that it was. He then put a note into my hands, and went
away. The letter stated that if I felt inclined to pay a visit to the
gardens of the seraglio next night, and would be at the same place as
before, I should there see a lady who was very sensibly touched with
the preference I had given to her over all the princess's women.
Although I suspected that Cale-Cairi had taken a fancy to me, I had no
idea of receiving such a letter as this from her. Intoxicated with my
good luck, I asked leave from the oda-baschi to pay a visit to a
dervise--who was a countryman of my own, and who had just arrived from
Mecca. Leave being granted me, I ran, or rather flew, to the gardens
of the seraglio, as soon as night was come. If, on the first occasion
time fled too swiftly and surprised me into stopping after the hour
for leaving the gardens, it seemed now too slow in bringing me the
promised pleasure, and I thought the hour of retreat would never come.
It did come, however, and I could see, shortly afterwards, approaching
the place where I was concealed, a lady whom I recognized by her
stature and air to be Cale-Cairi. Transported with delight, I drew
near, and throwing myself at her feet, I remained for some time
prostrate on the ground without speaking a word, so completely had I
lost all self-possession.
"Rise, Aswad," she said, "I am enraptured at having inspired you with
such feelings towards me, for I will confess to you that for my part I
have not been able to resist a friendly regard for you. Your youth,
good looks, and lively and brilliant wit, but more than all, perhaps,
your preferring me to other ladies of great beauty, have endeared you
to me. My conduct proves this sufficiently; but, alas! my dear Aswad,"
she added, sighing, "I scarcely know whether I ought to be proud of
the conquest I have made, or rather to regard it as an event which
will embitter the whole course of my life."
"But, madam," I replied, "why give way to such gloomy presentiments at
the very time when your presence brings me such delight?"
"It is not," she replied, "a foolish fear that now, at such a moment
as this, causes me annoyance and disturbs the pleasure of our meeting;
my fears are only too well founded, and you are ignorant of the cause
of my grief. The princess Zelica loves you, and when she has freed
herself, as she will do soon, from the splendid bondage in which she
is held, she will inform you of your happiness. When she confesses to
you that you are dear to her, how will you receive such a glorious
avowal? Will your love for me hold out against the honour of having
the affections of the first princess in the world?"
"Yes, charming Cale-Cairi," I said, interrupting her; "I would prefer
you even to Zelica. Were it to please Heaven that you should have even
a still more formidable rival, you would see that nothing could shake
the constancy of a heart that is devoted to you."
"Unhappy Aswad!" exclaimed the lady, "whither does your love carry
you? What a fatal assurance you are giving me of your fidelity! You
forget that I am a slave of the princess of Persia. If you were to
repay her kindness by ingratitude you would draw down her anger upon
us both, and we should perish. Better it were that I should yield you
up to so powerful a rival; it would be the only means of saving
ourselves."
"No, no," I replied hastily; "there is another means which I should
rather choose in my despair, and that would be to banish myself from
the court altogether. After my retreat you would be safe from the
vengeance of Zelica, and you would regain your peace of mind: by
degrees you would forget the unfortunate Aswad, who would retire into
the deserts to seek for rest in his misfortunes."
I spoke with such deep feeling and truth that the lady was herself
overcome with my grief, and said:
"Cease, Aswad, to yield to a needless affliction. You are mistaken;
your merits are such that it would be wrong to keep you longer in the
dark. I am Zelica herself, and not her slave. That night when you came
to my apartment I personated Cale-Cairi, and you supposed my attendant
to be myself."
Zelica then called one of her women, who ran to her from amidst some
cypress trees where she was concealed, and I perceived that she was
the slave whom I supposed to be the princess of Persia.
"Aswad," said the princess to me, "you now see the true Cale-Cairi; I
give her back her name and take my own: I have no wish to disguise
myself any longer. Although your love is greater than your ambition, I
am certain that it will be a source of new pleasure to you to know
that the lady who loves you is a princess."
We passed nearly the whole night in walking about and conversing, and
daylight would no doubt have found us in the gardens, had not
Cale-Cairi, who was with us, taken care to inform us that it was time
to withdraw. It was needful then that we should separate, but before
I parted from Zelica the princess said to me:
"Adieu, Aswad! do not forget me. We shall see each other again, and I
will soon let you know how dear you are to me." I threw myself at her
feet to thank her for so flattering a promise, after which Cale-Cairi
took me out by the same winding passages as before, and I then left
the seraglio.
Beloved by the august princess whom I idolized, and forming an
enchanting image of what she had promised me, I abandoned myself to
the most pleasing fancies that the mind could depict, when an
unlooked-for event deprived me all on a sudden of my proud hopes. I
had heard a report that the princess Zelica was ill, and two days
afterwards the rumour of her death was circulated in the palace. I was
unwilling to give credit to this fatal intelligence, and refused to do
so until I saw preparations going for the funeral ceremony. I did not
see the whole of it, because excessive grief threw me into a
succession of dangerous fainting fits which lasted for a long time.
One of the officers of the palace gave directions for me to be carried
into the pages' room, where great care was taken of me; my limbs were
rubbed with a balm of exceeding virtue, and in spite of my
overwhelming misery, such was the progress I made, that in two days my
strength was restored. A stay in Schiras, however, having become
insupportable, I secretly left the court of Persia three days after
the interment of my beloved princess. Overwhelmed with grief, I walked
all night without knowing whither I was going or where I ought to go.
Next morning, having stopped to rest myself, a young man approached
who was dressed in a very extraordinary manner. Coming up to me he
saluted me and presented me with a green branch which he held in his
hand, and after having civilly made me accept it, he began to recite
some Persian verses to induce me to bestow my charity upon him. As I
had no money I could not give him any. Thinking that I was ignorant
of the Persian language he recited some Arabic verses, but seeing that
he had no better success this way than the other, and that I did not
do what he wanted, he said to me, "Brother, I cannot persuade myself
that you are deficient in charity, but rather in the means wherewith
to exercise it."
"You are right," I said, "I have not a farthing in the world, and I
know not even where to shelter my head."
"Unfortunate man," he exclaimed, "what a sad plight you are in; I
really pity you, and wish, moreover, to assist you."
I was not a little astonished to be thus addressed by a man who had
been asking alms of me a moment before, and I supposed that the
assistance he offered was merely that of his prayers, when he went on
to say:
"I am one of those merry fellows they call fakirs; and I can tell you,
that though we subsist entirely on charity, we fare none the less
sumptuously for that, as we have discovered the secret of exciting the
compassion of well-meaning people by an appearance of mortification
and penance which we well know how to impart to ourselves. It is true
there are a few fakirs fools enough to be really what they seem, and
who lead a life of such austerity as sometimes to go ten whole days
without the least nourishment. But we are a little less rigorous than
these ascetics; we make no pretensions to the reality of their
virtues, only to the appearance of them. Will you become one of our
fraternity? I am now on my way to meet two of them at Bost; if you
have a fancy to make the fourth, you have but to follow me."
"I am afraid," I replied, "that not being accustomed to your religious
exercises I shall acquit myself but clumsily."
"Pray don't trouble yourself," he broke in, "on that head; I repeat to
you that we are not fakirs of the austere order; in short, we have
really nothing of the fakir about us but the dress."
Although I guessed from what the fakir had told me, that he and his
companions were in reality three libertines in disguise, I
nevertheless did not hesitate to join them; for besides being reckless
from sheer misery, I had not learned among the pages of the court many
lessons of scrupulousness on the score of morality. As soon as I had
signified to the fakir my consent, he set out with me at once for
Bost, feeding me on the road with abundance of dates, rice, and other
good things, which people presented to him in the towns and villages
through which we passed; for the moment his little bell and his
peculiar cry became heard, the good Mussulmans came running to him
with provisions from all quarters.
In this way we arrived at the large town of Bost; we made our way to a
small house in the suburbs, where the two other fakirs resided. They
received us with open arms, and appeared delighted with my resolution
of joining them. They soon initiated me into their mysteries; that is
to say, they showed me how to perform their antics. As soon as I was
well instructed in the art of imposing on the populace, they sent me
into the town to present respectable citizens with flowers or
branches, and to recite verses to them. I always returned home with
some pieces of silver, which enabled us to live merrily enough.
I passed nearly two years with the fakirs, and should have lived there
much longer had not the one who had induced me to join them, and whom
I liked the best, proposed to me to travel.
"Aswad," said he one day, "I am sick of this town; I begin to long to
roam a little. I have heard wonderful accounts of the city of
Candahar; if you will accompany me we will put the truth of these
reports to the test."
I consented at once, for I had a curiosity to see some new country,
or rather, I was impelled by that superior power which guides our
destinies.
Accordingly we both quitted Bost, and passing through many cities of
Segestan without stopping, we reached the noble city of Candahar,
surrounded with its strong fortifications. We betook ourselves to a
caravansary, where our dresses, the most commendable thing about us by
the way, procured us a kind and hearty reception. We found the
inhabitants of the city in a great bustle, as they were going to
celebrate the feast of Giulous on the following day. We learned that
at court they were no less busy, as every one was anxious to show his
attachment for the king Firouzshah, who had earned by his justice the
love of all good men, and still more by his rigour the fear of the
wicked.
The fakirs going where they please without hindrance, we proceeded
next day to court to witness the festival, which however had few
charms for the eyes of a man who had seen the Giulous of the king of
Persia.
Whilst we were attentively watching what passed, I felt myself pulled
by the sleeve, and turning round, perceived close to me the very
eunuch who, in the shah's palace, had been the bearer of Cale-Cairi's,
or rather Zelica's letter.
"My lord," he whispered, "I recognized you at once in spite of your
strange dress; but indeed, though I flatter myself I am never
mistaken, I am not quite sure whether on the present occasion I ought
not to doubt the evidence of my own eyes. Is it possible that it is
you I have met here?"
"And pray," I asked in reply, "what are you doing at Candahar, and why
have you left the court of Persia? Can the death of the princess
Zelica have driven you away as it did me?"