stolen aside to an inviting thicket of tamarisk, and lay down in the
shade to sleep. How long I slept I know not, but I was awakened by
women’s voices, and, looking forth, saw that I had slept too long, and
the women were disporting themselves in the garden. My position, I need
not say, was one of great danger, and brought fear even to my spirit;
for I well knew that, were I discovered, I were as good as dead. One
shriek from a woman, and I should be instantly cut down by the swords
of the guardians of the seraglio, and even if my life were preserved
for a few hours, it would only be to die a worse death by the orders
of the Dey. Although this fear was ever before me, yet could I not
restrain my curiosity to look forth, and creeping forward with the
utmost caution, perceived two women walking toward me, one of which
that walked before, seemed to be sorrowful, while the other, a slave,
seemed to be trying to divert her with cheerful talk. It was clear
that the first was a favourite of the Dey’s, for she was dressed in
the richest garments of heavy silk, embroidered with pearls, the sash
round her waist was shot with gold, gold ornaments hung from her neck
and arms, and her hair, plaited into a thousand strings, was one mass
of glittering little coins. Dazzling as was the beauty of her dress,
no eye that once reached her face could again leave the enchanting
view; for her countenance combined all that was most beautiful in
feature with a nobility of expression that revealed the rare dignity
of her soul. To say that I forgot the danger of my position, that my
senses deserted me in the entrancing contemplation of so divine a
being, would but poorly express the sentiments I felt. I was like a
sparrow feebly fluttering down from his secure perch into the jaws of
a jewelled serpent; only the comparison would be unjust, inasmuch as
she was as innocent as the dove, nor was she aware of my presence. Just
as I was weakly staggering forth from the friendly concealment of my
bower to throw myself at her feet, and so consummate my ruin, my good
star willed that she should pause, and turning to her companion she
said: ‘Zuleika, the sun waxes warm, and my heart is oppressed; leave
me for a time to repose in solitude, and perchance I may sleep.’ Her
words arrested me for the moment, for they were like the voice of the
nightingale complaining for the loss of its beloved; yet hardly had she
ceased, and again I was about to go forward before even the back of her
slave was turned upon her, when again I was arrested, for she began to
recite the following verses, which I made no doubt applied to her own
case:
What is there can ever ease me,
Or my gnawing sorrows let?
Would the joys of heaven e’en please me,
If I might not there forget?
Out, cruel Memory, cruel and partial!
Shall peace ne’er be mine again?
Though past joys thou dost remarshal,
In oblivion rests the pain.
Base Enchanter! Sorrows lightened
By half-memories sweet appear:
Happinesses past are brightened,
From all earthly dross made clear.
Art, O Memory, scarce was needed
Glamour o’er the past to shed;
Daily joys, almost unheeded,
Thou recall’st, now they are fled.
Thou recall’st each gentle sorrow--
Salt, that to my jaded taste
Savoured pleasures, when the morrow
Brought new joys and grief displaced.
Ah, sweet Memory! grant, I pray thee
This request: if I may not
Forget past happinesses, may the
Present at least then be forgot.
Hardly had she ceased this lamentation when I threw myself at her
feet. She was too amazed at my sudden appearance to cry out, and
before she could recover, I had told her in incoherent sentences of my
devotion and readiness to risk everything for her sake. She hastily
drew her veil over her face, but I could perceive that she was much
agitated, for she trembled violently, but at last commanding herself
sufficiently, she managed to ask me who I was. I told her that I was a
gentleman enslaved by the Dey, a slave like her; and renewed my offers
of assistance, forgetting for the moment my sad and powerless state.
Whereupon she wept, and warned me of my danger, and, indeed, the
danger to both of us if we were discovered. ‘Go,’ she said, ‘my servant
may return at any moment; we are at least companions in sorrow, and I
will contrive a meeting to-morrow, when we can talk more securely.’
I saw the wisdom of her words, and withdrew to my seclusion. Shortly
afterwards the slave girl returned, and they went away together, though
not without a parting glance from my mistress in my direction, that was
at once a warning to be careful and a reminder that I should meet her
again. Then, taking advantage of the overhanging bushes, I slipped into
the stream, and diving under water, regained the opposite bank unseen.
On the next day, after our morning work in the garden had been
performed, I did not linger behind, as I had done unwittingly before,
fearing lest I might be missed, but at midday, when everyone, from the
Dey to the meanest of his slaves, was wrapped in slumber, excepting
perhaps the guards, I slipped under a bush by the waterside, and
gathering some weeds, bound them about my head. Then I floated slowly
across, nothing showing above the surface of the water save the weeds,
until I arrived at the spot I had left the day before, when I lay
down and awaited my mistress. She came, I think, earlier than usual,
for the sun was still high though to my eager fancy I had awaited an
endless time. Then telling her slave that she felt sleepy, she bade her
keep watch within call that no one disturbed her, and hardly had the
girl left than I was beside her. She asked me many more questions as to
my condition, how long I had been a slave, and how I hoped to escape?
And partly in order that I might the better contrive how this might be
brought about, as well as to satisfy my curiosity, I begged her to tell
me her story, which she obligingly did as follows.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
_THE STORY OF UMEIMEH._
I am a native of Maloola, a village situated in some respects similarly
to this present spot, for it lies among the mountains which cover the
country to the north of Damascus at the mouth of a ravine as narrow,
but more terrible, than the gorge through which we came here. Ah!
stranger, how the memories of my childhood welled up before me on that
occasion. How I pictured to myself my father’s house clinging to the
side of the cliff, and again fancied that I saw the figures carved upon
the rocks, of men in strange costumes, which I was told represented
the sons of our first father Adam. Days past, that, alas! can never
come again. How much happiness have I known since, followed by how much
sorrow! It is perhaps well that I knew not what was written upon my
forehead, or I should have anticipated the dart of Azrael before the
appointed time.
In this beautiful village I grew up tending my father’s goats in the
day-time among the mountains, while in the evening I assisted my mother
in her household duties. One day, as I was resting during the noontide
heat in one of the numberless tombs with which the mountains are
honeycombed, I heard the loose stones rolling outside, and presently
a youth entered and seated himself to rest. In some fear as to whom
the intruder might prove to be, I instantly retreated to the further
end of the tomb, which was in complete darkness, and whence I could
scan at my leisure the figure of the newcomer. I saw at once that he
was a youth of consideration such as I had never seen before, whether
in my own or in neighbouring villages. He was richly dressed in the
silks of Damascus, and was evidently on a hunting expedition in our
mountains. But since his dress proclaimed him to be a gentleman, I
felt reassured, and was, I confess, greatly taken with his face, which
was at once handsome and engaging. As I continued to contemplate him
from my safe retreat in the darkness, and wonder when he would leave
me at liberty to escape, he shifted his position slightly, when to
my horror I saw that he had disturbed a sleeping snake, one of the
most venomous known to me, which was already rising up on its coils
preparatory to striking him. In the darkness he could not see it, nor
did he move, and in another moment he would have been as good as dead,
but, before I knew what I did, I dashed forward and broke its back
with my crook; thus unwittingly revealing my presence to his amazed
sight. He started up, and laid his hand upon his sword, but when he saw
that I was merely a girl, he looked at me inquiringly as to what my
sudden action might portend. I pointed to the dead snake at his feet,
whereupon he saw at once what had happened, and drawing me forward to
the mouth of the tomb so that he could see me, kissed the hem of my
garment, and thanked me in a few honest words that went straight to
my heart, so that I forgot in my pleasure that he was a stranger, and
only his glance of admiration reminded me that my veil was not drawn
over my face. In haste and confusion I covered it, and was about to
fly from his presence, when he seized my hand, and lifting it to his
forehead, besought me to let him know to whom he was indebted for his
life? I told him my name, and my father’s name, whereupon he let me
depart, and I went out into the blaze of sunshine to gather together
my scattered flock, all the time thinking over my adventure with the
handsome stranger, whose face and mien and expression I found for
ever haunting my imagination. This was a new experience to me. I had
heard many stories and poems during the long winter evenings which
mostly turned upon the passion of love, and the extravagances which
two mortals will affect to win to one another, and I wondered whether
this that I felt within myself could be that passion? For, every
day, as I led my flocks to their pasture, my thoughts would recur to
this youth until his imaginary presence became a sort of companion
to me, so rarely was his image absent from my memory. One day not
long afterwards, my mother bade me prepare for marriage, and she was
sufficiently acquainted with the curiosity of her sex to inform me that
my intended husband was both young and handsome, and one of the richest
merchants of Damascus to boot. I need not tell you that I immediately
became the heroine of our village, the object of envy of all the girls,
regret of many, if not of all the youths, and dislike of the matrons.
Indeed, I would thoroughly have enjoyed the triumph of my position had
it not been for the memory of the bold unknown who had dared to speak
to me and to steal away my heart on that sultry day in the cave on
the mountain-side. What could I do, however, but obey my parents and
prepare for marriage, except sigh in solitude for what might have been?
You will readily imagine my joy, therefore, when I saw at the ceremony
of marriage, that my future husband was no other than the unknown whose
life I had saved in the cavern. In due course I received magnificent
presents; and on a certain Thursday night, after the preliminary
ceremonies, I was conducted under a crimson canopy to my husband’s
temporary residence. The unveiling brought no fears of disappointment
to me, for I knew that my husband had seen and loved me before. We took
leave of my parents after a short period of blissful happiness, and
removed to my husband’s home at Damascus. Every day he would sit in his
shop in the merchants’ bazaar, and after he had bought and sold, he
would return home and we would take the evening meal together, after
which we would resort to one of the public gardens of the town, where,
sitting by the flowing waters, amidst the whispering trees, where the
nightingale still sang his praises to the rose, we would enjoy the
cool fragrance of the evening, and, hand linked in hand, our souls
would commune together without any necessity for words. In this pure
enjoyment we subsisted for some time until it became necessary for my
husband to depart with a caravan of merchandise to Balsora. He took
leave of me with many touching expressions of love: and I, who had
never yet since our marriage been parted from him, could hardly bear
the thought of separation. I besought him to remain with me, alleging
my foolish fears for my loneliness. Are we not rich enough, I said,
for you to give over your travels in order that you may enjoy what you
have? But he only smiled and kissed me, saying that he would be away
but a few months, and then, _Inshallah!_ he might think of what I had
said. He bade me be of good cheer, but I was full of forebodings that I
should never see him more; forebodings which he laughed to scorn, but
which, alas! proved only too true.
Now the Wali of Damascus was a notorious evil liver who had not the
fear of God before his eyes. No justice was to be had from him for the
poor man, and his hand was heavy on the province, so insatiable was he
in his extortion. Nor was it any use for the inhabitants to complain,
for he was liberal in his bribes to those above him, and the more
he had to pay away in bribes, the more eager was he to replenish his
coffers by grinding the faces of his wretched people. Unfortunately
for my happiness, my reputed beauty had come to the ears of this man,
and he ardently desired to gain possession of me. Having learnt that
my husband was about to take a journey, he disguised some of his
Janissaries as Bedouins, and putting himself at the head of them, fell
upon the caravan suddenly and at night, a time when the real Bedouin
but rarely attacks. My husband was slain, and his servants put to
flight, but one, more faithful than the rest, concealed himself at a
little distance, and when the murderers had retired, returned, bringing
with him the corpse of my husband. Then the news spread fast that the
Bedouins had attacked and had scattered the caravan, and the Wali as
in duty bound came to inquire into the facts, for, of course, he was
responsible for the safety of travellers. He came into the mandarah,
where the corpse was laid out with the face turned towards Meccah, and
surrounded by weeping women, wailing and casting dust upon their heads,
while holy men were reciting verses from the Koran. I was watching the
Wali from behind my veil when he entered with the cadi and his other
officers. He pretended to be much moved, but I could see that he was
ill at ease: his looks were troubled, not as by grief, but as if he
feared the avenger’s stroke. Suddenly my husband’s mother, who had
been sitting by her son’s corpse wailing and never taking her eyes off
those loved features, knowing that in another hour he would be buried,
gave a great cry and started upon her feet. All turned and looked, and
behold! two dark streams of blood were flowing from the wounds towards
the Wali, and all knew that he was the murderer. He left abruptly,
bidding us bury the body at once, nor did we dare to accuse him of the
murder, and if we had, it would have been useless. Long afterwards, I
questioned a learned Hakim how it was possible that a body once cold
should bleed afresh when in the presence of the murderer, as if to cry
out before God against him who made the wound and divorced the soul
from the body, and he explained to me that by the virtue contained
within the hidden recesses of the corpse, the humours, and especially
those of the blood and of the bile, are moved and stirred within it,
insomuch that by a certain secret movement of Nature, not readily
to be understood, this interior virtue seems to require vengeance.
Thereupon, suddenly the bilious humour is stirred by a certain virtue
appertaining to the blood, and is moved and leaps within the vessels
because of the swiftness and promptitude of its movement. This humour,
then, being moved and inflamed, the blood is liquefied and runs forth
at the wound, which is the proper gate to show itself at. The vaporous
spirit contained within the blood then suddenly directs it straight
towards the murderer, especially should he look upon the corpse with
attention, which act causes the blood to swell within the wound by
reason of that wonderful and hidden motion by which the blood excites
its spiritual essence, and reciprocally, the spirits move the blood, so
that it flows once more. This shows the unreason of those, who, without
knowledge, philosophy, or science, would argue that the spirit of one
slain lingers for a while within the body, so weighed down is it by
the desire of vengeance, and hence, when the murderer approaches, it
becomes suddenly inflamed with anger, the blood is heated, and again
flows from the wound; while at the same time all the spirits of the
various parts fly together by virtue of their natural legerity, and
straightway being directed by the animosity of the soul, force the
blood in the direction of the murderer.
Be this as it may be, however, it was clear that the Wali was much
disturbed at this public evidence of his crime, and especially that it
had occurred in my presence: and, indeed, if it had been possible for
me to hate him worse than I already did, that would have made me do so.
After the funeral I remained in my house, not going forth for the space
of about a year, during which time my sole consolation was the hearing
of praises of my dead husband from his mother’s lips. She gave me his
history from his childhood upwards, enlarging upon the perfection of
his understanding and the strength of his lion-like heart, whence she
would commonly digress into the character of his father, her husband,
in whom, it seemed, had dwelt every virtue that it was possible for man
to have: fit father of so noble a son! When we had no more to say, we
broke out into sobs and tears together, which would relieve the black
humours from our veins and enable us to pass through the tedium of
another day. At length an old woman of our acquaintance called upon us,
and after condoling with me for a while upon my widowhood, she said:
‘But, after all, it is not good for women, neither is it respectable,
that a young woman like yourself should live unmarried and without
the care of a husband;’ and then she began the praises of the Wali,
who, she said, was a man of power to whom no parent in Damascus would
hesitate to give his daughter and feel highly honoured at the chance.
‘Nevertheless,’ she went on, ‘there is only one who can command his
heart: the report of thy beauty has penetrated to his ears, and he
desires only thee. What reply shall I make to him on thy behalf?’ I do
not know what reply I should have given, what torrent of abuse I should
have poured out in the fury of the moment, had not prudence come to my
aid in time for me to check myself. I got rid of her as best I could
by some excuse such as that I required time to think over so important
an offer, and as soon as she was gone gave free vent to the grief and
passion that consumed me at the memory of the murder of my husband and
the cynical effrontery of his murderer in demanding my hand. When I
had calmed somewhat, and could think over the situation, my thoughts
chased each other confusedly through my head. I could think no course
of action out, only one idea stood clearly before me: that of intense,
bitter, and undying hatred to the man who now sought me in marriage. In
marriage! Heavens! Was not this the hand of Allah who now threw this
man into my power? My husband’s blood still cried aloud for vengeance,
and, behold! after all these months the sword of retribution was placed
in my hand, and blood could be made to flow for blood! My mind was
made up, I grew calm and collected. In place of the whirl of confused
thoughts, but one, clear and unalterable, stood forth in my mind, like
the chiselled images we see upon the rocks. When the old woman called
again the next day, I managed to express a due sense of the honour that
the Wali conferred upon me by his choice, nor was it long after that
before I found myself his wife. Oh! how I loathed the man! As he lifted
my veil, my hand closed around the hilt of the tempered blade that lay
hidden in my bosom. For a moment he stood aghast at the face he saw, a
basilisk rather than a woman, in another moment my dagger was plunged
into his black heart, and he fell dead at my feet.
Leisurely I went to the box at the side of the room and arrayed myself
in male garments, over which I threw a woman’s cloak, and drawing my
veil over my face, went out by the back door, and mingling with the
festive crowd in the courtyard slipped out unnoticed into the street.
I had only one sensation, that of joy that my husband’s blood was now
avenged, and by me! For myself I neither thought nor cared whither I
turned my steps. In a few minutes, I rejoiced to think, my vengeance
would be discovered and it would be known that that vengeance was mine;
but I should be sought for high and low, and I did not choose that they
should find me so easily. Throwing aside my woman’s cloak, I passed
along in the shadow of the walls and as much out of the brilliant
light of the moon as was possible, and hurried along the labyrinth of
streets. Then, in the silence of the night, I heard distant cries and
the sound of horsemen, and knew that the Wali had been found and that
his guards were even now searching the town for me. How I hugged myself
for joy! But my vengeance would be more complete if they were unable to
find me, and there was no time to be lost. Seeing an open door, I went
inside, and casting myself at the feet of an aged lady whom I found
sitting there, and kissing the hem of her robe, I begged her to save
me from the avengers of blood. Without a word she rose up, and taking
me by the hand led me to a spot in the courtyard. Then she pressed a
particular stone in the wall, which turned on a pivot and disclosed
a hidden staircase. Down this she led me to an underground chamber,
magnificently furnished, decorated in gold and ultramarine, and lighted
by a silver lamp that hung from the ceiling. I had arrived at my hiding
place none too soon. Whether someone had noticed me and had notified
to the guards the direction in which I had gone, I do not know; but,
in any case, they were very soon at the entrance of the alley in which
my protectress had her dwelling. Across this they drew a guard, and
then proceeded to search every house. That of my protectress was the
last searched, but my hiding place remained undiscovered; indeed, the
searchers merely spoke to the lady for a short time and then looked
carelessly around. When they were gone, she called to me to come forth
from my chamber. Her tone was hard, and her features were changed. ‘Woe
to thee, unlucky one,’ she cried; ‘’tis well for thee that thou art
under my protection! The pursuers are gone. Him thou hast slain was my
son! What fate was it that made thee seek my hospitality? Go now, go in
peace, but never let me see thy countenance again!’ I fell at her feet
and thanked her, but she only motioned to me to leave her, and I went
forth into the night, saddened at the mother’s grief and wondering at
the magnanimity which had restrained her from delivering up the slayer
of her son, even though she had claimed her hospitality. Nevertheless,
my case was a parlous one. Whither should I go? I dared not return to
my village, or even pass through places that were peopled, nor could
I hide in the mountains, for there I should starve. There was nothing
for it but to throw myself upon the hospitality of the Bedouin who were
beyond the power of the Governor of Damascus. I made my way, therefore,
towards the desert, hiding by day and only travelling by night, my
sustenance being the fruit I could steal, and even that failed me as
soon as I got away from the watered lands. Then I travelled more boldly
in the day-time and was able to buy goat’s milk from the goatherds whom
I came across, until after the third day I came upon the black tents
of the Arabs, and going up to the Sheikh I claimed the hospitality due
to a stranger. I was soon, however, given to understand that I was a
prisoner. My fine clothes were demanded from me, and shabby old ones
were given me in their stead, my money was taken, and, by an unlucky
accident, my sex was discovered by which my fate was sealed. When the
tribe moved southwards I was sent to a slave dealer who did business
at Jaffa, where I was embarked for Constantinople, but the Moorish
pirates, who cared little whether they robbed friend or foe, Turk or
Christian, seized our vessel, and I was chosen by our present master as
part of his share of the plunder.