_An Eastern Apologue--From the French._
----I read her my manuscript; I had been abusing woman I must confess.
Not a single good word could I say for the sex; and long did my
companion and I battle the point. Many truisms, much that was strictly
veritable had I brought forward, and she had been obliged to yield to
the justice of almost all my remarks, though disclaiming against my
slander at the same time. Finally--"You intend to marry, yourself?" she
asked.
"Certainly," I replied; "to find a woman bold enough to take me, after
having convinced her that I knew all the duplicity of the sex, will
henceforward be the dearest of my hopes."
"Is this resignation or fatuity?"
"That is my secret."
"Well, then," she said, "most learned doctor of conjugal arts and
sciences, permit me to relate to you a little Eastern apologue, that I
read long ago in a small volume that was offered to us every year in the
shape of an almanac." I bowed my delighted attention. The pretty
creature threw herself back in her _chaise longue_, rested her little
feet upon the fender, and fixed her arch dark eyes upon me.
"At the commencement of the Empire," she began, "the ladies brought into
fashion a game which consisted in accepting nothing from the person with
whom one agreed to play, without saying the word 'Iadeste.' An affair of
this kind lasted, as you may suppose, whole weeks, and the height of
cleverness was to surprise one another into receiving a trifle without
uttering the magic word."
"Even a kiss?"
"Oh! I have twenty times gained 'Iadeste' in that way," said she,
laughing. "It was, I believe, about this time, apropos of this game of
which the origin is either Arabian or Chinese, that my apologue obtained
the honours of print."
"But if I tell it to you," she interrupted, looking doubtfully at me,
and passing her taper finger slowly across her lips, with a charmingly
coquettish gesture, "promise me to insert it at the end of your book!"
"Will you not be bestowing a treasure? I owe you already so many
obligations, I do not hesitate to add this; therefore, I accept it at
once." She smiled maliciously, and went on in these words.
"A philosopher had compiled a very large collection of all the tricks
our sex can play; and so, to guard himself against our wiles, he carried
this constantly about him. One day, in travelling, he found himself near
an Arabian encampment. A young woman, sitting under the shade of a
palm-tree, got up suddenly, on the approach of the stranger, and invited
him so obligingly to repose under her tent that he could not resist
accepting. The husband of this lady was then absent. The philosopher had
scarcely established himself upon the soft carpets, when his graceful
hostess presented him with fresh dates and a vessel full of milk; he
could not help seeing the rare perfection of the hands which offered the
beverage and the fruit. But to recover from the confusion into which the
charms of the young Arabian had thrown him, and whose snares he began to
dread, the wise man drew out his book and read! The enchanting creature,
piqued at this disdain, said to him in the sweetest voice, 'That book
must be very interesting, since it seems to be the only thing you
consider worthy of notice. Would it be an indiscretion to ask the name
of the science of which it treats!' The philosopher replied without
raising his eyes, 'The subject of this book is beyond the comprehension
of woman.' This refusal excited more and more the curiosity of the young
Arabian. She put forward the prettiest little foot that ever left its
transient trace upon the fleeting sands of the desert. The sage began to
waver; his truant looks would wander toward those dainty feet till his
eyes, too powerfully tempted, finally mingled the flame of their
admiration with the fire that darted from the ardent and black orbs of
the young Asiatic. Again, then, she asked in her soft low tones, 'what
is the book?' and the charmed philosopher replied, 'I am the author of
this work. It contains a record of all the tricks that woman ever
invented!'
"'What! all--absolutely all?' inquired the daughter of the desert.
"'Yes--all! And it is only in studying woman constantly, that I have
been able to overcome my fear of them.'
"'Ah!' said the Arabian, dropping the long lashes of her snowy eyelids;
and then throwing suddenly upon the pretended sage the full lustre of
her Eastern eyes she made him forget in one instant his valuable book
and its invaluable contents. Behold my philosopher the most impassioned
of men!
"Thinking that he perceived in the manner of his young hostess a slight
touch of coquetry, the stranger hazarded an avowal of his adoration. How
could he have resisted? The sky was so blue, the sand shone in the
distance like a blade of gold; the wind brought love upon its wings, and
the wife of the absent Arab seemed to reflect all the brilliancy with
which she was surrounded. Her bright eyes, too, became liquid; and she
seemed, by a slight movement of her graceful head, to consent to listen
to the honeyed words of the quondam philosopher.
"The wise man was in a full tide of eloquence when the distant gallop of
a horse was heard rapidly approaching.
"'We are lost!' cried the alarmed Fatima; 'my husband is coming. He is
jealous as a tiger, and still more fierce. In the name of the Prophet,
and if you love your life, hide yourself in this chest!' The frightened
author, seeing nothing else to do, rushed into the chest; his hostess
shut it down, locked it, and took the key. She went to meet her spouse,
and after several caresses, which put him into the best of humour, 'I
must tell you,' said she, 'a very singular adventure.'
"'I listen, my gazelle,' said the Arabian, seating himself upon a
cushion and crossing big legs after the Oriental fashion.
"'There came here to-day a kind of philosopher; he pretended to have
collected in a book all the treacheries of which my sex is capable; and
this false sage--spoke--to--me of love!'
"'Well?'
"'I listened to him!' At these words the Arab bounded like a lion, and
drew his kangiar. The philosopher, from the bottom of the chest, heard
all, and sent to the devil his book, woman, and all the men of Arabia
Petrea.
"'Fatima!' cried the husband, if you wish to live, answer! 'Where is the
traitor?'
"Horrified at the storm she had raised, Fatima threw herself at the feet
of her lord, and trembling under the menacing steel of the poniard, she
pointed out the coffer, with a single look, as prompt as it was timid.
Then rising, ashamed, she drew the key from her girdle and gave it to
her jealous lord. But--as he turned furiously from her, the malicious
beauty burst into a shout of laughter, and laying her white hand upon
his shoulder, 'Iadeste!' she exclaimed; 'at last, I shall have my
beautiful gold chain! Give it to me; you have lost. Another time, Fazom,
have a little better memory!' The husband stupefied, let fall the key,
and presenting the golden chain, on his knees, offered his dear Fatima
to bring her all the jewels of all the caravans that passed that year,
if she would only give up such cruel methods of gaining the 'Iadeste.'
Then, as he was an Arabian and did not like to lose his gold chain,
though it was to his wife, he remounted his steed and went off,
grumbling at his ease in the desert--for he loved Fatima too much to
show her his regrets.
"At last, the young woman released the philosopher more dead than alive
from his prison, and said to him, gravely,
"'Mr. Philosopher, don't forgot to insert this trick in your
collection.'"