The Caravan had reached the end of the desert, and gladly did the

travellers salute the green meadows, and thickly-leaved trees, of

whose charms they had been deprived for so many days. In a lovely

valley lay a caravansery, which they selected as their resting-place

for the night; and though it offered but limited accommodations and

refreshment, still was the whole company more happy and sociable than

ever: for the thought of having passed through the dangers and

hardships, with which a journey through the desert is ever

accompanied, had opened every heart, and attuned their minds to jest

and gayety. Muley, the young and merry merchant, went through a comic

dance, and sang songs thereto, which elicited a laugh, even from

Zaleukos, the serious Greek. But not content with having raised the

spirits of his comrades by dance and merriment, he also gave them, in

the best style, the story he had promised, and, as soon as he could

recover breath from his gambols, began the following tale.

[Illustration]

LITTLE MUCK.

In Nicea, my beloved father-city, lived a man, whom people called

"Little Muck." Though at that time I was quite young, I can recollect

him very well, particularly since, on one occasion, I was flogged

almost to death, by my father, on his account. The Little Muck, even

then, when I knew him, an old man, was nevertheless but three or four

feet high: he had a singular figure, for his body, little and smart

as it was, carried a head much larger and thicker than that of others.

He lived all alone in a large house, and even cooked for himself;

moreover, it would not have been known in the city whether he was

alive or dead, (for he went forth but once in four weeks,) had not

every day, about the hour of noon, strong fumes come forth from the

house. Nevertheless, in the evening he was often to be seen walking to

and fro upon his roof; although, from the street, it seemed as if it

were his head alone that was running around there.

I and my comrades were wicked fellows, who teased and ridiculed every

one; accordingly, to us it was a holiday when the Little Muck went

forth: on the appointed day we would assemble before his house, and

wait for him to come out. When, then, the door opened, and at first

the immense head and still larger turban peered forth, when the rest

of the body followed covered with a small cloak which had been

irregularly curtailed, with wide pantaloons, and a broad girdle in

which hung a long dagger, so long that one could not tell whether Muck

was fastened to the dagger, or the dagger to Muck--when in this guise

he came forth, then would the air resound with our cries of joy; then

would we fling our caps aloft, and dance round him, like mad. Little

Muck, however, would salute us with a serious bow, and walk with long

strides through the street, shuffling now and then his feet, for he

wore large wide slippers, such as I have never elsewhere seen. We boys

would run behind him, crying continually, "Little Muck! Little Muck!"

We also had a droll little verse, which we would now and then sing in

his honor; it ran thus:--

"Little Muck, oh Little Muck!

What a fine, brave dwarf art thou!

Livest in a house so tall;

Goest forth but once a month,

Mountain-headed, though so small.

Turn thyself but once, and look!

Run, and catch us, Little Muck."

In this way had we often carried on our sport, and, to my shame, I

must confess that I took the most wicked part in it, for I often

plucked him by the mantle, and once trod from behind on his large

slippers, so that he fell down. This was, at first, a source of the

greatest amusement to me, but my laughter soon ceased when I saw the

Little Muck go up to my father's house; he walked straight in, and

remained there some time. I concealed myself near the door, and saw

Muck come forth again, escorted by my father, who respectfully shook

his hand, and with many bows parted with him at the door. My mind was

uneasy, and I remained some time in my concealment; at length,

however, hunger, which I feared more than blows, drove me in, and

ashamed and with downcast head, I walked in before my father.

"Thou hast, as I hear, insulted the good Muck," said he with a very

serious tone. "I will tell thee the history of this Muck, and then I

am sure thou wilt ridicule him no more. But first, thou shalt receive

thy allowance." The allowance was five-and-twenty lashes, which he

took care to count only too honestly. He thereupon took a long

pipe-stem, unscrewed the amber mouthpiece, and beat me more severely

than he had ever done before.

When the five-and-twenty were all made up, he commanded me to attend,

and told me the following story of Little Muck.

* * * * *

The father of Little Muck, who is properly called Mukrah, lived here

in Nicea, a respectable, but poor man. He kept himself almost as

retired as his son does now. The latter he could not endure, because

he was ashamed of his dwarfish figure, and let him therefore grow up

in perfect ignorance. When the Little Muck was still in his

seventeenth year, a merry child, his father, a grave man, kept

continually reproaching him, that he, who ought long before to have

trodden down the shoes of infancy, was still so stupid and childish.

The old man, however, one day had a bad fall, from the effects of

which he died, and Little Muck was left behind, poor and ignorant. His

cruel relations, to whom the deceased owed more than he could pay,

turned the poor fellow out of the house, and advised him to go forth

into the world, and seek his fortune. Muck answered that he was all

ready, only asking them for his father's dress, which they willingly

granted him. His father had been a large, portly man, and the garments

on that account did not fit him. Muck, however, soon hit upon an

expedient; he cut off what was too long, and then put them on. He

seemed, however, to have forgotten that he must also take from their

width; hence the strange dress that he wears at the present day; the

huge turban, the broad girdle, the wide breeches, the blue cloak, all

these he has inherited from his father, and worn ever since. The long

Damascus dagger of his father, too, he attached to his girdle, and

seizing a little staff, set out from the door.

Gayly he wandered, the whole day, for he had set out to seek his

fortune: if he saw upon the ground a potsherd shining in the sunlight,

he took care to pick it up, in the belief that he could change it into

a diamond of the first water; if he saw in the distance the cupola of

a Mosque sparkling like fire, or the sea glittering like a mirror, he

would hasten up, fully persuaded that he had arrived at fairy-land.

But ah! these phantoms vanished as he approached, and too soon

fatigue, and his stomach gnawed by hunger, convinced him that he was

still in the land of mortals. In this way he travelled two days, in

hunger and grief, and despaired of finding his fortune; the produce of

the field was his only support, the hard earth his bed. On the

morning of the third day, he espied a large city upon an eminence.

Brightly shone the crescent upon her pinnacles, variegated flags waved

over the roofs, and seemed to be beckoning Little Muck to themselves.

In surprise he stood still, contemplating the city and the surrounding

country.

"There at length will Klein-Muck find his fortune," said he to

himself, and in spite of his fatigue bounded in the air; "there or

nowhere!" He collected all his strength, and walked towards the city.

But although the latter seemed quite near, he could not reach it until

mid-day, for his little limbs almost entirely refused him their

assistance, and he was obliged to sit down to rest in the shade of a

palm-tree. At last he reached the gate; he fixed the mantle jauntily,

wound the turban still more tastily around his head, made the girdle

broader, and arranged the dagger so as to fall still more obliquely:

then, wiping the dust from his shoes, and seizing his cane, he marched

bravely through the gate.

He had already wandered through a few streets, but nowhere did any

door open to him, nowhere did any one exclaim, as he had anticipated:

"Little Muck, come in and eat and drink, and rest thy little feet."

He was looking very wistfully straight at a large fine house, when a

window opened, and an old woman, putting out her head, exclaimed in a

singing tone--

"Hither, come hither!

The porridge is here;

The table I've spread,

Come taste of my cheer.

Hither, come hither!

The porridge is hot;

Your neighbors bring with you,

To dip in the pot!"

The door opened, and Muck saw many dogs and cats walking in. For a

moment he stood in doubt whether he should accept the invitation; at

last, however, he took heart and entered the mansion. Before him

proceeded a couple of genteel kittens, and he resolved to follow them,

since they, perhaps, knew the way to the kitchen better than himself.

When Muck had ascended the steps, he met the same old woman who had

looked forth from the window. With frowning air she asked what he

wanted.

"Thou hast invited every one to thy porridge," answered Little Muck,

"and as I was very hungry, I came too."

The old woman laughed, saying, "Whence come you then, strange fellow?

The whole city knows that I cook for no one but my dear cats, and now

and then, as you see, I invite their companions from the

neighborhood." Little Muck told her how hard it had gone with him

since his father's death, and entreated her to let him dine, that day,

with her cats. The old woman, on whom the frank relation of the little

fellow made quite an impression, permitted him to become her guest,

and gave him abundance to eat and drink. When he was satisfied and

refreshed, she looked at him for some time, and then said:--

"Little Muck, remain with me in my service; you will have little to

do, and shall be well taken care of." Muck, who had relished the

cat-porridge, agreed, and thus became the servant of the Frau Ahavzi.

His duties were light but singular: Frau Ahavzi had two male, and four

female cats; every morning Little Muck had to comb their hair, and

anoint them with costly ointment. When the Frau went out, he had to

give them all his attention; when they ate, he placed their bowls

before them; and, at night, he had to lay them on silken cushions, and

wrap them up in velvet coverings. There were, moreover, a few little

dogs in the house, on which he was obliged to wait; but there were not

so many ceremonies gone through with these as with the cats, whom Frau

Ahavzi treated as her own children. As for the rest, Muck led as

retired a life as in his father's house, for with the exception of the

Frau, he saw every day only dogs and cats.

For a long time it went very well with Little Muck; he had enough to

eat, and but little to do; and the old woman seemed to be perfectly

satisfied with him. But, by-and-by, the cats began to behave very

badly; the moment the Frau went out, they ran around the rooms as if

possessed, threw down every thing in confusion, and broke considerable

fine crockery, which stood in their way. When, however, they heard

their mistress coming up the steps, they would creep to their

cushions, and wag their tails, when they saw her, as if nothing had

happened. The Frau Ahavzi always fell in a passion when she saw her

rooms so disordered, and attributed all to Muck; assert his innocence

as he might, she believed her cats who looked so demure, in preference

to her servant.

Little Muck was very sorry that here also he had been disappointed in

finding his fortune, and determined in his own mind to leave the

service of the Frau Ahavzi. As, however, on his first journey, he had

learned how badly one lives without money, he resolved to procure, in

some way, for himself the wages which his mistress had once promised

him, but had never paid. In the house of the Frau Ahavzi was a room,

which was always closed, and the inside of which he had never seen.

Nevertheless, he had often heard the Frau making a noise therein, and

he would have willingly risked his life to know what was there

concealed. Reflecting upon his travelling-money, it occurred to him

that there his mistress might conceal her treasures. But the door was

always tightly closed, and therefore he could not get at them.

One morning, after the Frau Ahavzi had gone out, one of the little

dogs who was treated by her in a very stepmother-like manner, but

whose favor he had in a great degree gained by various acts of

kindness, pulled him by his wide pantaloons, and acted as if he wanted

Muck to follow him. Muck, who always gladly played with him, did so,

and perceived that the dog was leading him to the sleeping apartment

of his mistress; he stopped before a door, which the little fellow had

never before observed, and which was now wide open. The dog entered,

and Muck, following, was overjoyed at finding himself in the very

chamber, which had so long been the object of his curiosity. He looked

all around for money, but could find none: old garments only, and

strangely-fashioned vases were scattered around. One of the latter, in

particular, attracted his attention; it was of crystal, and fine

figures were cut thereon. He lifted it up and turned it on all sides;

but, oh horror! he had not observed that it had a lid, which was but

insecurely fastened on: it fell to the floor, and broke into a

thousand pieces.

For a long time stood Little Muck motionless through terror; now was

his fate decided, now must he fly, or be killed by the old woman. His

departure was immediately resolved on; he only looked around, to see

if he could not use some of the goods of the Frau Ahavzi upon his

journey. Thereupon, a formidable pair of huge slippers met his eye;

they were not, it is true, beautiful, but his own could hold out no

longer; moreover their size was an inducement, for when he had these

upon his feet, people would see, he hoped, that he had cast off the

shoes of childhood. He quickly took off his own slippers, and put on

the others. A walking-stick, also, with a fine lion's head cut upon

the handle, seemed to be standing too idly in the corner; so he seized

it, and hurried from the apartment. He hastened to his own room, put

on his cloak, arranged his paternal turban, placed the dagger in his

girdle, and ran as fast as his feet would carry him, out of the house,

and out of the city. Fear of his old mistress drove him farther and

still farther, until, from fatigue, he could scarcely run any more. He

had never gone so quickly in his life; nay, it appeared to him as if

he could not cease running, for an invisible power seemed propelling

him on. At last he observed that this must be connected with the

slippers, for they would continually shoot forward and bear him along

with them. He endeavored in various ways, to stand still, but could

not succeed; at last, in the greatest distress, he cried out to

himself, as a man calls to his horse, "Wo--wo!" Then the slippers

stopped, and Muck fell exhausted upon the earth.

The slippers were a source of great joy to him. Thus had he, by his

services, gained something that would help him on his way through the

world to seek his fortune. In spite of his joy, he fell asleep through

fatigue; for the body of Little Muck, which had to carry so heavy a

head, could not hold out long. In his dream the little dog appeared to

him, which had assisted him to the slippers in the house of the Frau

Ahavzi, and thus spoke:--

"Dear Muck, thou dost not still rightly understand the use of the

slippers: know that if, in them, thou turnest thyself three times

around upon the heel, thou canst fly wherever thou wilt; and with the

staff thou canst find treasures, for, wherever gold is buried, it will

beat three times upon the earth; where silver, twice."

Thus dreamed Little Muck. When he awoke, he reflected on the singular

vision, and resolved to make the experiment immediately. He put on the

slippers, lifted one foot, and began to turn around upon his heel. But

whoever has attempted to perform this manoeuvre in an enormously wide

slipper, will not wonder that the Little Muck could not succeed,

particularly when he remembers that his heavy head kept falling on

this side and on that.

The poor little fellow fell several times violently upon his nose;

nevertheless, that did not deter him from making the trial again, and

at last he succeeded. Like a wheel he went around upon his heel,

wishing himself in the nearest large city, and--the slippers mounted

into the air, ran with the speed of the wind through the clouds, and

before Little Muck knew what to make of it, he found himself in a

large market-place, where many stalls were erected, and innumerable

men were busily running to and fro. He moved among the people, but

considered it more prudent to retire into a less frequented street,

for near the market one of the slippers bore him along so rapidly,

that he almost fell down, or else ran against one and another with

his projecting dagger, so that it was with difficulty he avoided their

blows.

Little Muck now seriously reflected what he should set about, in order

to earn a piece of money. He had, it is true, a staff which would show

him concealed treasures, but how could he find a place where gold or

silver was buried. He could, indeed, in this emergency, have exhibited

himself for money, but for this he was too proud. At last the

quickness of his gait occurred to him. Perhaps, thought he, my

slippers can procure me support, and he determined to hire himself out

as a courier. He ventured to hope that the king of the city rewarded

such service well, so he inquired for the palace. Before the door of

the palace stood a guard, who asked him what he sought there. On

answering that he was in search of service, they led him to the

overseer of the slaves. Before this one he laid his request, and

entreated that he might be admitted among the royal couriers. The

overseer measured him with his eyes from head to foot, and said: "How!

with thy little feet, which are scarcely a span long, wishest thou to

become a royal messenger? Away with thee! I cannot play with every

fool."

Little Muck assured him, however, that his proposal was made in

perfect seriousness, and that he would let it come to a trial with the

swiftest, upon a wager. The matter seemed very ludicrous to the

overseer. He commanded him to hold himself in readiness for a race in

the afternoon, and leading him into the kitchen, saw that he was

furnished with proper meat and drink. He himself, however, repaired

unto the king, and told him of the little man and his proposal. The

king was a merry lord, and therefore it pleased him well that the

overseer had kept the little man for their amusement. He directed him

to make preparations in a large meadow behind the castle, that the

race might be conveniently beheld by his whole court, and once more

commanded him to take great care of the dwarf. The king told his

princes, and princesses, what a pastime they were to enjoy that

afternoon; these told it again to their attendants, and when the time

arrived all were in great expectation; and as many as had feet poured

into the meadow, where a scaffolding had been erected, in order to

see the boastful dwarf run.

As soon as the king and his sons and daughters had taken their places

upon the platform, the Little Muck walked forth upon the meadow, and

made before the noble sovereign a very elegant bow. A universal cry of

joy arose, the moment they beheld the little fellow; such a figure had

they never seen. The small body with the mighty head, the little

cloak, and the wide pantaloons, the long dagger in the broad girdle,

the tiny feet in the immense slippers--no! it was so droll a sight

they could not keep from laughing aloud. Little Muck, however, was not

disconcerted by their laughter. He proudly walked forward, supported

by his cane, and awaited his opponent. At Muck's own desire, the

overseer of the slaves had selected the best runner. Walking in, he

placed himself near the dwarf, and both looked for the signal.

Thereupon the Princess Amarza made a sign with her veil as had been

preconcerted, and, like two arrows shot from the same bow, the racers

flew over the meadow.

At first the courier took a tremendous bound, but Muck pursued him in

his slipper carriage, overtook him, passed him, and had been standing

for some time at the goal, when his opponent, gasping for breath, ran

up. Amazement for a few moments enchained the spectators: the king was

the first to clap his hands; then shouted the crowd for joy, all

exclaiming, "Long live the Little Muck, the victor in the race!"

Meanwhile they had brought up the little man; he prostrated himself

before the king, saying, "Most mighty King, I have here given thee but

a small proof of my powers; allow them, I pray thee, to give me a

place among thy couriers." The king answered:--

"Nay, dear Muck, thou shalt be my favorite messenger, and shalt remain

about my person; every year shalt thou have a hundred gold pieces as

thy wages, and thou shalt sup at the table of my first attendant."

Then Muck thought he had at last found the fortune, of which he had so

long been in search, and was merry and light-hearted. Moreover, he

rejoiced in the peculiar favor of the king, for the latter employed

him on his quickest and most secret errands, which he performed with

the greatest care, and with inconceivable rapidity.

But the other attendants of the king were not well affected towards

him, because they reluctantly saw themselves displaced from their

lord's favor by a dwarf, who knew how to do nothing, but to run fast.

They set on foot many a conspiracy against him in order to work his

destruction, but all failed, through the confidence which the king

placed in his private Oberleibläufer, (for to this dignity had he in

so short a time arrived.)

Muck, upon whom these movements against himself produced no effect,

thought not of revenge; for that he had too good a heart: no, he

reflected upon the means of making himself necessary to his enemies,

and beloved by them. Thereupon the staff, which in his good fortune he

had forgotten, occurred to him; if he could find treasures, he thought

the lords would be more favorably disposed towards him. He had before

this often heard that the father of the present king had buried much

of his gold, when the enemy had invaded the land; they said, moreover,

that he had died without imparting the secret to his son. From this

time Muck always carried his cane, in the hope that he would some

time pass over the place where the money of the old king was buried.

One evening, chance led him into a remote portion of the

castle-garden, which he seldom visited, when suddenly he felt the

staff move in his hand, and three times it beat upon the ground. He

knew in an instant what this indicated; accordingly he drew forth his

dagger, made marks on the surrounding trees, and then slipped back

into the castle. Then he procured a spade, and awaited night for his

undertaking.

Treasure-digging, however, gave Muck more trouble than he had

anticipated. His arms were very feeble, his spade large and heavy; he

might perhaps have been laboring a couple of hours, without getting

any farther down than as many feet. At length he hit upon something

hard, which sounded like iron: he then set to work still more

diligently, and soon brought up a large cover; he then descended into

the hole, in order to examine what the cover concealed, and found a

large pot completely full of gold pieces. His feeble wisdom, however,

did not teach him to lift up the pot; but he put in his pantaloons

and girdle as much as he could carry, filled his cloak, and then

carefully covering up the rest, placed the load upon his back. But,

indeed, if he had not had the slippers on his feet, he could not have

stirred, so heavily did the gold weigh him down. Then, unobserved, he

reached his room, and secured the money under the cushions of his

sofa.

When the little man saw so much gold in his possession, he thought the

tables would now be turned, and that from among his enemies at court,

he could gain many well-wishers and warm friends. But even in this,

one could see that the good Muck had enjoyed no very careful

education; otherwise he would not have imagined that he could buy true

friends with gold. Ah! that he had then put on his slippers, and with

his mantle full of gold, scampered away!

The gold which from this time Little Muck distributed with lavish

hand, awakened the envy of the other court-attendants. The

kitchen-master, Ahuli, said, "He is a counterfeiter." The

slave-overseer, Achmet, said, "He has cajoled the king." But Archaz,

the treasurer, his most wicked enemy, who himself, even, now and then

put his hand into his lord's coffers, exclaimed, "He is a thief." In

order to be sure of the thing, they consulted together, and the head

cup-bearer, Korchuz, placed himself one day, with a very sorrowful and

depressed air, before the eyes of the king. He made his wo so

apparent, that the king asked him what was the matter.

"Ah!" answered he, "I am sorry that I have lost the favor of my lord!"

"Why talkest thou idly, friend Korchuz?" rejoined the monarch. "Since

when have I veiled from thee the sun of my favor?"

The cup-bearer answered, that he loaded his private Oberleibläufer

with money, but gave his poor faithful servants nothing. The king was

much astonished at this accusation, had the story of Muck's

gold-distribution told him, and the conspirators soon aroused in him

the suspicion that the dwarf had, in some way or other, stolen the

money from the treasure-chamber. Very pleasant was this turn of the

matter to the treasurer, who would not otherwise have willingly

submitted his accounts to examination. The king thereupon commanded

that they should secretly watch all the movements of the dwarf, in

order, if possible, to surprise him in the act. When, now, on the

night which followed the fatal day, seeing his funds almost exhausted

by his generosity, Muck crept forth, with his spade, into the

castle-garden, to bring new supplies from his secret treasury, the

watch followed him in the distance, led by Ahuli and Archaz; and, at

the moment when he was removing the gold from the pot to his cloak,

they fell upon him, bound him, and immediately led him before the

king. The latter, whom, independently of any thing else, this

interruption of his sleep would have enraged, received his poor dwarf

very ungraciously, and ordered an immediate trial. Meanwhile they had

dug the full pot out of the ground, and with the spade and cloak full

of gold had placed it before the king. The treasurer said that he had

surprised Muck with his guard, just as he had buried this vessel of

gold in the earth.

The king thereupon inquired of the accused, whether it was true, and

whence the gold had come.

Little Muck, conscious of innocence, answered that he had discovered

this pot in the garden; that he had not buried it, but had brought it

to light.

All present laughed aloud at this defence; the king, however, provoked

in the highest degree by the supposed impudence of the dwarf,

exclaimed, "How, wretch! wilt thou so stupidly and shamelessly lie to

thy king, after having stolen from him? Treasurer Archaz, I command

thee to say whether thou knowest this sum of gold to be the same that

is missing from my treasury."

The treasurer thereupon answered that he was sure of the thing; that

so much and even more had been missing from the royal treasures; and

he could take his oath that this was the stolen money. Then the king

commanded them to place Little Muck in galling chains, and convey him

to prison: to Archaz, however, he gave the gold, that he might restore

it to the treasury. Delighted at the fortunate issue of the matter,

the officer took it, and counted out, at home, the glittering gold

pieces; but the bad man never disclosed that down in the pot lay a

letter, to the following purport:--

"The enemy has overrun my land; therefore I here conceal

a portion of my treasure. Whoever may find it, the curse

of his king fall upon him, if he do not immediately

deliver it to my son!

KING SADI."

In his dungeon, poor Muck gave way to sorrowful reflections; he knew

that for taking royal property death was the penalty; and yet--he

could not betray the secret of his staff unto the king, because, in

that case, he justly feared being deprived of both that, and his

slippers. His slippers, alas! could render him no help, for there by

close fetters he was fastened to the wall, and, torment himself as he

might, he could not turn around upon his heel. When, however, on the

next day, sentence of death was pronounced, he thought it would be

better to live without the magic staff, than to die with it; and,

having asked a private audience with the king, disclosed to him the

secret. At first the king gave no credit to his assertions, but Little

Muck promised him a proof, if he would respite him from death. The

king gave him his word upon it, and having had some gold buried in the

earth, unseen by Muck, commanded him to find it with his cane. In a

few moments he succeeded in doing so, for the staff beat three times

distinctly upon the ground. Then the king saw that his treasurer had

betrayed him, and sent him, as is customary in the East, a silken

cord, wherewith he should strangle himself. To Little Muck, however,

he said:--

"I have indeed promised thee thy life, but it seems to me that this is

not the only secret thou art possessed of, connected with this staff.

Therefore thou shalt remain in everlasting captivity, if thou do not

confess what relation exists between it and thy rapid running."

Little Muck, whom one night in his dungeon had deprived of all desire

for further confinement, acknowledged that his whole art lay in the

slippers; nevertheless, he informed not the king of the wonderful

effect of turning three times upon the heel. The king put on the

slippers, himself, in order to make the experiment, and ran, like mad,

through the garden; often did he wish to hold up, but he knew not how

to bring the slippers to a halt, and Muck, who could not deny himself

this revenge, let him run on, until he fell down exhausted.

When the king returned to consciousness, he was terribly angry at

Little Muck, who had suffered him to run until so entirely out of

breath. "I have promised thee thy freedom and life," said he, "but

within twelve hours must thou leave my land; otherwise will I have

thee hung." The slippers and cane, however, he commanded them to bear

to his treasure-chamber.

Thus, poor as ever, wandered the little fellow forth through the land,

cursing the folly which had led him astray, and prevented his playing

an important part at court. The land from which he was banished, was

fortunately not extensive, and accordingly eight hours brought him to

the frontier; but travelling, now that he was used to his dear

slippers, came very hard to him. Having arrived at the border, he

chose the usual road for reaching the most lonely part of the forest,

for he hated all men, and resolved to live there by himself. In a

thick portion of the wood, he lighted on a place, which seemed to him

quite suitable for the resolution he had taken. A clear brook,

surrounded by large shady fig-trees, and a soft turf, invited him: he

threw himself down, determined to taste food no more, but calmly to

await his end. Amid his sorrowful reflections on death, he fell

asleep; when he awoke, he was tormented by hunger, and began to think

that starving to death was rather an unpleasant affair; so he looked

around to find something to eat.

Fine ripe figs hung upon the tree beneath which he had slept; he

stretched forth his hand to pluck some; their taste was delicious, and

then he descended into the brook to slake his thirst. But what was his

horror, when the water showed his head adorned with two immense ears,

and a long thick nose! Amazed, he clapped his hands upon his ears, and

they were really more than half an ell long.

"I deserve ass's ears!" he exclaimed; "for, like an ass, have I

trodden Fortune under my feet." He wandered around among the trees,

and feeling hunger again, was obliged to have recourse once more to

the fig-tree, for he could find nothing else that was eatable. After

the second portion of figs, it struck him that if his ears could find

room beneath his large turban, he would not look so ridiculous, and,

on trying it, he found that his ears had vanished. He ran straight

back to the stream, in order to convince himself thereof; it was

actually so; his ears had resumed their original figure, his long

misshapen nose was no more! He soon perceived how all this had

happened; from the first fig-tree he had received the long nose and

ears, the second had relieved him of them: he saw with joy that kind

destiny yet again placed in his hands the means of becoming fortunate.

He plucked, therefore, from each tree as many figs as he could carry,

and went back to the land which shortly before he had left. There, in

the first town, he disguised himself by means of different garments;

then, turning again to the city inhabited by the king, he soon arrived

at it.

For about a year ripe fruit had been quite scarce; Little Muck,

therefore, placed himself before the gate of the palace, for from his

former residence there, it was well known to him, that here such

rareties would be purchased by the kitchen-master for the royal table.

Muck had not long been seated, when he saw that dignitary walking

across the court-yard. He examined the articles of the traders who

had placed themselves at the palace-gate; at length his eye fell upon

Muck's little basket.

"Ah! a dainty morsel!" said he, "which will certainly please his

majesty: what wish you for the whole basket?" Muck set a high price

upon them, and the bargain was soon struck. The kitchen-master gave

the basket to his slave, and went his way: meantime Little Muck stole

away, for he feared, when the change should show itself on the heads

of the court, that he, as the one who sold them, would be sought for

punishment.

At table the king was well pleased, and praised his kitchen-master

more than ever, on account of his good kitchen, and the care with

which he always sought the rarest morsels for his table; the officer,

however, who well knew what dainties he had in the back-ground, smiled

pleasantly, and let fall but few words: "The day is not all past till

evening," or "End good, all good;" so that the princesses were very

curious to know what he would still bring on. The moment, however, he

had the fine, inviting figs set upon the table, a universal "Ah!"

escaped the lips of those who were present. "How ripe! how delicate!"

exclaimed the king; "kitchen-master, thou art a whole-souled man, and

deservest our peculiar favor!" Thus speaking, the king, who with such

choice dishes took care to be very sparing, with his own hands

distributed the figs around the table. Each prince and princess

received two; the ladies of the court, the Viziers and Agas, each one;

the rest he placed before himself, and began to swallow them with

great delight.

"In the name of heaven, father, why lookest thou so strange?" suddenly

exclaimed the Princess Amarza. All gazed in astonishment upon the

king; vast ears hung down from his head, a long nose stretched itself

bridge-like, over above his chin; upon themselves also they looked,

one upon another, with amazement and horror; all, more or less, were

adorned with the same strange headdress.

The horror of the court may be imagined. All the physicians in the

city were immediately sent for; they came with a blustering air,

prescribed pills and mixtures, but ears and noses remained. They

operated on one of the princes, but the ears grew out again.

From the place of concealment into which he had withdrawn, Muck had

heard the whole story, and perceived that it was now time for him to

commence operations. He had already, with the money obtained by the

sale of his figs, procured a dress which would represent him as a

learned man; a long beard of goat's hair completed the illusion. With

a small sack full of figs he repaired to the royal palace, and offered

his assistance as a foreign physician. At first they were quite

incredulous; but when Little Muck gave a fig to one of the princes,

and thereby restored ears and nose to their original shape, then were

all eager to be cured by the stranger. But the king took him silently

by the hand, and led him to his apartment; then, opening a door that

led into the treasure-chamber, he made signs to Muck to follow.

"Here are my treasures," said the king; "choose for thyself: whatever

it may be, it shall be thine, if thou wilt free me from this shameful

evil." This was sweet music in the ears of Little Muck: at the moment

of entering he had seen his slippers standing upon the floor, and hard

by lay his little staff. He moved around the room, as if in wonder at

the royal treasures; but no sooner had he reached his beloved shoes,

than he hastily slipped into them, and seizing the little cane, tore

off his false beard, and displayed to the astonished king the

well-known countenance of his exiled Muck.

[Illustration]

"False king!" said he, "who rewardest faithful service with

ingratitude, take, as well-deserved punishment, the deformity which

thou now hast. The ears I leave thee, that, each day they may remind

thee of Little Muck." Having thus spoken, he turned quickly around

upon his heel, wished himself far away, and before the king could call

for help Little Muck had vanished. Ever since, he has lived here in

great affluence, but alone, for men he despises. Experience has made

him a wise man--one who, though there is something offensive in his

exterior, deserves rather your admiration than your ridicule.

* * * * *

Such was my father's story. I assured him that I sincerely repented of

my behavior towards the good little man, and he remitted the other

half of the punishment which he had intended for me. To my comrades I

told the wonderful history of the dwarf, and we conceived such an

affection for him, that no one insulted him any more. On the contrary,

we honored him as long as he lived, and bowed as low to him as to Cadi

or Mufti.

* * * * *

The travellers determined to rest a day in this caravansery, in order

to refresh themselves and their beasts for the rest of their journey.

The gayety of the day before again prevailed, and they diverted

themselves with various sports. After the meal, however, they called

upon the fifth merchant, Ali Sizah, to perform his duty to the rest,

and give them a story. He answered, that his life was too poor in

remarkable adventures for him to relate one connected therewith, but

he would tell them something which had no relation to it: "The story

of the False Prince."

[Illustration]

THE FALSE PRINCE.

There was once an honest journeyman tailor, by name Labakan, who

learned his trade with an excellent master in Alexandria. It could not

be said that Labakan was unhandy with the needle; on the contrary, he

could make excellent work: moreover, one would have done him injustice

to have called him lazy. Nevertheless, his companions knew not what to

make of him, for he would often sew for hours together so rapidly

that the needle would glow in his hand, and the thread smoke, and that

none could equal him. At another time, however, (and this, alas!

happened more frequently,) he would sit in deep meditation, looking

with his staring eyes straight before him, and with a countenance and

air so peculiar, that his master and fellow-journeymen could say of

his appearance nothing else than, "Labakan has on again, his

aristocratic face."

On Friday, however, when others quietly returned home from prayers to

their labor, Labakan would come forth from the mosque in a fine

garment which with great pains he had made for himself, and walk with

slow and haughty steps through the squares and streets of the city. At

such times, if one of his companions cried, "Joy be with thee!" or,

"How goes it, friend Labakan?" he would patronizingly give a token of

recognition with his hand, or, if he felt called upon to be very

polite, would bow genteelly with the head. Whenever his master said to

him in jest, "Labakan, in thee a prince is lost," he would be

rejoiced, and answer, "Have you too observed it?" or, "I have already

long thought it."

In this manner did the honest journeyman tailor conduct himself for a

long time, while his master tolerated his folly, because, in other

respects, he was a good man and an excellent workman. But one day,

Selim, the sultan's brother, who was travelling through Alexandria,

sent a festival-garment to his master to have some change made in it,

and the master gave it to Labakan, because he did the finest work. In

the evening, when the apprentices had all gone forth to refresh

themselves after the labor of the day, an irresistible desire drove

Labakan back into the workshop, where the garment of the sultan's

brother was hanging. He stood some time, in reflection, before it,

admiring now the splendor of the embroidery, now the varied colors of

the velvet and silk. He cannot help it, he must put it on; and, lo! it

fits him as handsomely as if it were made for him. "Am not I as good a

prince as any?" asked he of himself, as he strutted up and down the

room. "Has not my master himself said, that I was born for a prince?"

With the garments, the apprentice seemed to have assumed quite a

kingly carriage; he could believe nothing else, than that he was a

king's son in obscurity, and as such he resolved to travel forth into

the world, leaving a city where the people hitherto had been so

foolish as not to discover his innate dignity beneath the veil of his

inferior station. The splendid garment seemed sent to him by a good

fairy; resolving therefore not to slight so precious a gift, he put

his little stock of money in his pocket, and, favored by the darkness

of the night, wandered forth from Alexandria's gates.

The new prince excited admiration everywhere upon his route, for the

splendid garment, and his serious majestic air, would not allow him to

pass for a common pedestrian. If one inquired of him about it, he took

care to answer, with a mysterious look, that he had his reasons for

it. Perceiving, however, that he rendered himself an object of

ridicule by travelling on foot, he purchased for a small sum an old

horse, which suited him very well, for it never brought his habitual

quiet and mildness into difficulty, by compelling him to show himself

off as an excellent rider, a thing which in reality he was not.

One day, as he was proceeding on his way, step by step, upon his

Murva, (thus had he named his horse,) a stranger joined him, and asked

permission to travel in his company, since to him the distance would

seem much shorter, in conversation with another. The rider was a gay

young man, elegant and genteel in manners. He soon knit up a

conversation with Labakan, with respect to his whence and whither, and

it turned out that he also, like the journeyman tailor, was travelling

without purpose, in the world. He said his name was Omar, that he was

the nephew of Elfi Bey, the unfortunate bashaw of Cairo, and was now

on his way to execute a commission which his uncle had delivered to

him upon his dying-bed. Labakan was not so frank with respect to his

circumstances; he gave him to understand that he was of lofty descent,

and was travelling for pleasure.

The two young men were pleased with each other, and rode on in

company. On the second day, Labakan interrogated his companion Omar,

respecting the commission with which he was charged, and to his

astonishment learned the following. Elfi Bey, the bashaw of Cairo, had

brought up Omar from his earliest childhood; the young man had never

known his parents. But shortly before, Elfi Bey, having been attacked

by his enemies, and, after three disastrous engagements, mortally

wounded, was obliged to flee, and disclosed to his charge that he was

not his nephew, but the son of a powerful lord, who, inspired with

fear by the prophecy of his astrologer, had sent the young prince away

from his court, with an oath never to see him again until his

twenty-second birthday. Elfi Bey had not told him his father's name,

but had enjoined upon him with the greatest precision, on the fourth

day of the coming month Ramadan, on which day he would be

two-and-twenty years old, to repair to the celebrated pillar

El-Serujah, four days' journey east of Alexandria: there he should

offer to the men who would be standing by the pillar, a dagger which

he gave him, with these words, "Here am I, whom ye seek!" If they

answered, "Blessed be the Prophet, who has preserved thee!" then he

was to follow them--they would lead him to his father.

The journeyman tailor, Labakan, was much astonished at this

information; from this time he looked upon Prince Omar with envious

eyes, irritated because fortune conferred upon him, though already he

passed for the nephew of a mighty bashaw, the dignity of a king's son;

but on him, whom she had endowed with all things necessary for a

prince, bestowed in ridicule, an obscure lineage, and an every-day

vocation. He instituted a comparison between himself and the prince.

He was obliged to confess that the latter was a man of very lively

aspect; that fine sparkling eyes belonged to him, a boldly-arched

nose, a gentlemanly, complaisant demeanor, in a word, all the external

accomplishments, which every one is wont to commend. But numerous as

were the charms he found in his companion, still he was compelled to

acknowledge to himself, that a Labakan would be no less acceptable to

the royal father than the genuine prince.

These thoughts pursued Labakan the whole day; with them he went to

sleep in the nearest night-lodgings; but when he awoke in the morning,

and his eye rested upon Omar sleeping near him, who was reposing so

quietly, and could dream of his now certain fortune, then arose in him

the thought of gaining, by stratagem or violence, what unpropitious

destiny had denied him. The dagger, the returning prince's token of

recognition, hung in the sleeper's girdle; he softly drew it forth, to

plunge it in the breast of its owner. Nevertheless, the peaceable soul

of the journeyman recoiled before thoughts of murder; he contented

himself with appropriating the dagger, and bridling for himself the

faster horse of the prince; and, ere Omar awoke to see himself

despoiled of all his hopes, his perfidious companion was several miles

upon his way.

The day on which Labakan robbed the prince was the first of the holy

month Ramadan, and he had therefore four days to reach the pillar

El-Serujah, the locality of which was well known to him. Although the

region wherein it was situated could at farthest be at a distance of

but four days' journey, still he hastened to reach it, through a

constant fear of being overtaken by the real prince.

By the end of the second day, he came in sight of the pillar

El-Serujah. It stood upon a little elevation, in the midst of an

extensive plain, and could be seen at a distance of two or three

leagues. Labakan's heart beat high at the sight: though he had had

time enough on horseback, for the last two days, to think of the part

he was to play, still a consciousness of guilt made him anxious; the

thought that he was born for a prince, however, encouraged him again,

and he advanced towards the mark with renewed confidence.

The country around the pillar was uninhabited and desert, and the new

prince would have experienced some difficulty in finding sustenance,

if he had not previously supplied himself for several days. He lay

down beside his horse beneath some palm-trees, and there awaited his

distant destiny.

Towards the middle of the next day, he saw a large procession of

horses and camels crossing the plain in the direction of the pillar

El-Serujah. It reached the foot of the hill, on which the pillar

stood; there they pitched splendid tents, and the whole looked like

the travelling-suite of some rich bashaw or sheik. Labakan perceived

that the numerous train which met his eye, had taken the pains to come

hither on his account, and gladly would he that moment have shown them

their future lord; but he mastered his eager desire to walk as

prince; for, indeed, the next morning would consummate his boldest

wishes.

The morning sun awoke the too happy tailor to the most important

moment of his life, which would elevate him from an inferior

situation, to the side of a royal father. As he was bridling his horse

to ride to the pillar, the injustice of his course, indeed, occurred

to him; his thoughts pictured to him the anguish of the true prince,

betrayed in his fine hopes; but the die was cast: what was done could

not be undone, and self-love whispered to him that he looked stately

enough to pass for the son of the mightiest king. Inspirited by these

reflections, he sprang upon his horse, and collecting all his courage

to bring him to an ordinary gallop, in less than a quarter of an hour,

reached the foot of the hill. He dismounted from his horse, and

fastened it to one of the shrubs that were growing near; then he drew

the dagger of Prince Omar, and proceeded up the hill. At the base of

the pillar six persons were standing around an old gray-haired man, of

lofty king-like aspect. A splendid caftan of gold cloth surrounded by

a white Cashmere shawl, a snowy turban spangled with glittering

precious stones, pointed him out as a man of opulence and nobility. To

him Labakan proceeded, and bowing low before him, said, as he extended

the dagger--

"Here am I, whom you seek."

"Praise to the Prophet who has preserved thee!" answered the

gray-haired one, with tears of joy. "Omar, my beloved son, embrace

thine old father!" The good tailor was deeply affected by these solemn

words, and sank, with mingled emotions of joy and shame, into the arms

of the old noble.

But only for a moment was he to enjoy the unclouded delight of his new

rank; raising himself from the arms of the king, he saw a rider

hastening over the plain in the direction of the hill. The traveller

and his horse presented a strange appearance; the animal, either from

obstinacy or fatigue, seemed unwilling to proceed. He went along with

a stumbling gait, which was neither a pace nor a trot; but the rider

urged him on, with hands and feet, to a faster run. Only too soon did

Labakan recognise his horse Murva, and the real Prince Omar. But the

evil spirit of falsehood once more prevailed within him, and he

resolved, come what might, with unmoved front to support the rights he

had usurped. Already, in the distance, had they observed the horseman

making signs; at length, in spite of Murva's slow gait, having reached

the bottom of the hill, he threw himself from his horse, and began

rapidly to ascend.

"Hold!" cried he. "Hold! whoever you may be, and suffer not yourselves

to be deceived by a most infamous impostor! I am called Omar, and let

no mortal venture to misuse my name!"

Great astonishment was depicted on the countenances of the bystanders

at this turn of the affair; the old man, in particular, seemed to be

much amazed, as he looked inquiringly on one and another. Thereupon

Labakan spoke, with a composure gained only by the most powerful

effort.

"Most gracious lord and father, be not led astray by this man. He is,

as far as I know, a mad journeyman tailor of Alexandria, by name

Labakan, who deserves rather our pity than our anger."

These words excited the prince almost to phrensy. Foaming with

passion, he would have sprung upon Labakan, but the bystanders,

throwing themselves between, secured him, while the old man said:

"Truly, my beloved son, the poor man is crazed. Let them bind him and

place him on one of our dromedaries; perhaps we may be of some

assistance to the unfortunate."

The anger of the prince had abated; in tears, he cried out to the old

man, "My heart tells me that you are my father; by the memory of my

mother, I conjure you--hear me!"

"Alas! God guard us!" answered he: "already he again begins to talk

wildly. How can the man come by such crazy thoughts?" Thereupon,

seizing Labakan's arm, he made him accompany him down the hill. They

both mounted fine and richly-caparisoned coursers, and rode at the

head of the procession, across the plain. They tied the hands of the

unfortunate prince, however, and bound him securely upon a dromedary.

Two horsemen rode constantly by his side, who kept a watchful eye upon

his every movement.

The old prince was Saoud, sultan of the Wechabites. For some time had

he lived without children; at last a prince, for whom he had so

ardently longed, was born to him. But the astrologer, whom he

consulted respecting the destiny of his son, told him that, until his

twenty-second year, he would be in danger of being supplanted by an

enemy. On that account, in order that he might be perfectly safe, had

the sultan given him, to be brought up, to his old and tried friend,

Elfi Bey; and twenty-two sad years had lived without looking upon him.

This did the sultan impart to his supposed son, and seemed delighted

beyond measure with his figure and dignified demeanor.

When they reached the sultan's dominions, they were everywhere

received by the inhabitants with shouts of joy; for the rumor of the

prince's arrival had spread like wildfire through the cities and

towns. In the streets through which they proceeded, arches of flowers

and branches were erected; bright carpets of all colors adorned the

houses; and the people loudly praised God and his prophet, who had

discovered to them so noble a prince. All this filled the proud heart

of the tailor with delight: so much the more unhappy did it make the

real Omar, who, still bound, followed the procession in silent

despair. In this universal jubilee, though it was all in his honor, no

one paid him any attention. A thousand, and again a thousand, voices

shouted the name of Omar; but of him who really bore this name, of him

none took notice: at most, only one or two inquired whom they were

carrying with them, so tightly bound, and frightfully in the ears of

the prince sounded the answer of his guards, "It is a mad tailor."

The procession at last reached the capital of the sultan, where all

was prepared for their reception with still more brilliancy than in

the other cities. The sultana, an elderly woman of majestic

appearance, awaited them, with her whole court, in the most splendid

saloon of the castle. The floor of this room was covered with a large

carpet; the walls were adorned with bright blue tapestry, which was

suspended from massive silver hooks, by cords and tassels of gold.

[Illustration]

It was dark by the time the procession came up, and accordingly many

globular colored lamps were lighted in the saloon, which made night

brilliant as day; but with the clearest brilliancy and most varied

colors, shone those in the farthest part of the saloon, where the

sultana was seated upon a throne. The throne stood upon four steps,

and was of pure gold, inlaid with amethysts. The four most illustrious

emirs held a canopy of crimson silk over the head of their mistress;

and the sheik of Medina cooled her with a fan of peacock feathers.

Thus awaited the sultana her husband and son; the latter she had never

looked on since his birth, but significant dreams had so plainly shown

her the object of her longings, that she would know him out of

thousands.

Now they heard the noise of the approaching troop; trumpets and drums

mingled with the huzzas of the populace; the hoofs of the horses

sounded on the court of the palace; steps came nearer and nearer; the

doors of the room flew open, and, through rows of prostrate

attendants, hastened the sultan, holding his son by the hand, towards

the mother's throne.

"Here," said he, "do I bring to thee, him for whom thou hast so often

longed."

The sultana, however, interrupted him, crying: "This is not my son!

These are not the features which the Prophet has shown me in my

dreams!"

Just as the sultan was about to rebuke her superstition, the door of

the saloon sprang open, and Prince Omar rushed in, followed by his

guards, whom an exertion of his whole strength had enabled him to

escape. Breathless, he threw himself before the throne, exclaiming:--

"Here will I die! Kill me, cruel father, for this disgrace I can

endure no longer!"

All were confounded at these words; they pressed around the

unfortunate one, and already were the guards, who had hurried up, on

the point of seizing him and replacing his fetters, when the sultana,

who had thus far looked on in mute astonishment, sprang from the

throne.

"Hold!" she cried; "this, and no other, is my son! This is he, who,

though my eyes have never seen him, is well known to my heart!" The

guards had involuntarily fallen back from Omar, but the sultan,

foaming with rage, commanded them to bind the madman.

"It is mine to decide," he cried with commanding tone; "and here we

will judge, not by a woman's dreams, but by sure and infallible

signs. This," pointing to Labakan, "is my son, for he has brought me

the dagger, the real token of my friend Elfi."

"He stole it," cried Omar; "my unsuspicious confidence has he

treacherously abused!" But the sultan hearkened not to the voice of

his son, for he was wont in all things obstinately to follow his own

judgment. He bade them forcibly drag the unfortunate Omar from the

saloon, and himself retired with Labakan to his chamber, filled with

anger at his wife, with whom, nevertheless, he had lived in happiness

for five-and-twenty years. The sultana was full of grief at this

affair; she was perfectly convinced that an impostor had taken

possession of the sultan's heart, so numerous and distinct had been

the dreams which pointed out the unhappy Omar as her son. When her

sorrow had a little abated, she reflected on the means of convincing

her husband of his mistake. This was indeed difficult, for he who had

passed himself off as her son, had presented the dagger, the token of

recognition, and had, moreover, as she learned, become acquainted with

so much of Omar's early life from the lips of the prince himself, as

to be able to play his part without betraying himself.

She called to her the men who had attended the sultan to the pillar

El-Serujah, in order to have the whole matter exactly laid before her,

and then took counsel with her most trusty female slaves. She chose,

and in a moment rejected, this means and that; at length, Melechsalah,

an old and cunning Circassian, spoke.

"If I have heard rightly, honored mistress, the one who bore this

dagger called him whom thou holdest to be thy son, a crazy tailor,

Labakan?"

"Yes, it is so," answered the sultana; "but what wilt thou make of

that?"

"What think you," proceeded the slave, "of this impostor's having

stitched his own name upon your son? If this be so, we have an

excellent way of catching the deceiver, which I will impart to you in

private."

The sultana gave ear to her slave, and the latter whispered to her a

plan which seemed to please her, for she immediately got ready to go

to the sultan. The sultana was a sensible woman, and knew not only

the weak side of her husband, but also the way to take advantage of

it. She seemed therefore to give up, and to be willing to acknowledge

her son, only offering one condition: the sultan, whom the outbreak

between himself and his wife had grieved, agreed thereto, and she

said:--

"I would fain have from each a proof of his skill; another, perhaps,

would have them contend in riding, in single conflict, or in hurling

spears: but these are things which every one can do; I will give them

something which will require both knowledge and dexterity. It shall be

this; each shall make a caftan, and a pair of pantaloons, and then

will we see at once who can make the finest ones."

The sultan laughingly answered, "Ah! thou hast hit on a fine

expedient! Shall my son contend with a mad tailor, to see who can make

the best caftan? No! that cannot be." The sultana, however, cried out,

that he had already agreed to the condition, and her husband, who was

a man of his word, at length yielded, though he swore, should the mad

tailor make his caftan ever so beautiful, he would never acknowledge

him as his son.

The sultan thereupon went to his son, and entreated him to submit to

the caprices of his mother, who now positively wished to see a caftan

from his hands. The heart of the good Labakan laughed with delight; if

that be all that is wanting, thought he to himself, then shall the

lady sultana soon behold me with joy. Two rooms had been fitted up,

one for the prince, the other for the tailor; there were they to try

their skill, and each was furnished with shears, needles, thread, and

a sufficient quantity of silk.

The sultan was very eager to see what sort of a caftan his son would

bring to light, but the heart of the sultana beat unquietly, from

apprehension lest her stratagem might be unsuccessful. Two days had

they been confined to their work; on the third, the sultan sent for

his wife, and when she appeared, dispatched her to the apartments to

bring the two caftans and their makers. With triumphant air Labakan

walked in, and extended his garment before the astonished eyes of the

sultan.

"Behold, father," said he, "look, mother! see if this be not a

masterpiece of a caftan. I will leave it to the most skilful

court-tailor, upon a wager, whether he can produce such another."

The sultana, smiling, turned to Omar:-- "And thou, my son, what hast

thou brought?"

Indignantly he cast the silk and shears upon the floor.

"They have taught me to tame horses, and to swing my sabre; and my

lance will strike you a mark at sixty paces. But the art of the needle

is unknown to me; it were unworthy a pupil of Elfi Bey, the lord of

Cairo!"

"Oh, thou true son of my heart!" exclaimed the sultana. "Ah, that I

might embrace thee, and call thee, son! Forgive me, husband and

master," she continued, turning to the sultan, "for having set on foot

this stratagem against you. See you not now who is prince, and who

tailor? Of a truth the caftan which your lord son has made, is

magnificent, and I would fain ask with what master he has learned!"

The sultan was lost in deep reflection, looking with distrust, now on

his wife, now on Labakan, who vainly sought to conceal his blushes and

consternation at having so stupidly betrayed himself. "This proof

pleases me not," said he; "but, Allah be praised! I know a means of

learning whether I am deceived." He commanded them to bring his

swiftest horse, mounted, and rode to a forest, which commenced not far

from the city. There, according to an old tradition, lived a good

fairy, named Adolzaide, who had often before this assisted with her

advice the monarchs of his family, in the hour of need: thither

hastened the sultan.

In the middle of the wood was an open place, surrounded by lofty

cedars. There, the story said, lived the fairy; and seldom did a

mortal visit this spot, for a certain awe connected with it had, from

olden time, descended from father to son. When the sultan had drawn

near he dismounted, tied his horse to a tree, and placing himself in

the middle of the open space, cried with loud voice:--

"If it be true that thou hast given good counsel to my fathers, in the

hour of need, then disdain not the request of their descendant, and

advise me in a case where human understanding is too short-sighted."

Hardly had he uttered the last word, when one of the cedars opened,

and a veiled lady, in long white garments, stepped forth.

"I know, Sultan Saoud, why thou comest to me; thy wish is fair,

therefore shall my assistance be thine. Take these two chests; let

each of the two who claim to be thy son, choose; I know that he who is

the real one, will not make a wrong selection." Thus speaking, the

veiled lady extended to him two little caskets of ivory, richly

adorned with gold and pearls: upon the lids, which he vainly sought to

open, were inscriptions formed by inlaid diamonds.

As he was riding home, the sultan tormented himself with various

conjectures, as to what might be the contents of the caskets, which,

do his best, he could not open. The words on the outside threw no

light upon the matter; for on one was inscribed, HONOR AND FAME; upon

the other, FORTUNE AND WEALTH. Saoud thought it would be difficult to

make choice between these two, which seemed equally attractive,

equally alluring. When he reached the palace, he sent for his wife,

and told her the answer of the fairy: it filled her with an eager

hope, that he to whom her heart clung, might select the casket which

would indicate his royal origin.

Two tables were brought in before the sultan's throne; on these, with

his own hand, Saoud placed the two boxes; then, ascending to his seat,

he gave the signal to one of his slaves to open the door of the

saloon. A brilliant throng of bashaws and emirs of the realm poured

through the open door: they seated themselves on the splendid

cushions, which were arranged around the walls. When they had done

this, Saoud gave a second signal, and Labakan was introduced; with

haughty step he walked through the apartment, and prostrated himself

before the throne with these words:--

"What is the command of my lord and father?" The sultan raised himself

in his throne, and said:--

"My son, doubts are entertained as to the genuineness of thy claims to

this name; one of these chests contains the confirmation of thy real

birth. Choose! I doubt not thou wilt select the right one!" Labakan

raised himself, and advanced towards the boxes; for a long time he

reflected as to which he should choose, at last he said:--

"Honored father, what can be loftier than the fortune of being thy

son? What more noble than the wealth of thy favor? I choose the chest

which bears the inscription, FORTUNE AND WEALTH."

"We will soon learn whether thou hast made the right choice; meanwhile

sit down upon that cushion, near the bashaw of Medina," said the

sultan, again motioning to his slaves.

Omar was led in; his eye was mournful, his air dejected, and his

appearance excited universal sympathy among the spectators. He threw

himself before the throne, and inquired after the sultan's pleasure.

Saoud informed him that he was to choose one of the chests: he arose,

and approached the table. He read attentively both inscriptions, and

said:--

"The few last days have informed me how insecure is fortune, how

transient is wealth; but they have also taught me that, in the breast

of the brave, lives what can never be destroyed, HONOR, and that the

bright star of RENOWN sets not with fortune. The die is cast! should I

resign a crown, Honor and Fame, you are my choice!" He placed his hand

upon the casket that he had chosen, but the sultan commanded him not

to unclose it, while he motioned to Labakan to advance, in like

manner, before his table. He did so, and at the same time grasped his

box. The sultan, however, had a chalice brought in, with water from

Zemzem, the holy fountain of Mecca, washed his hands for supplication,

and, turning his face to the East, prostrated himself in prayer:

"God of my fathers! Thou, who for centuries hast established our

family, pure and unadulterated, grant that no unworthy one disgrace

the name of the Abassidæ; be with thy protection near my real son, in

this hour of trial." The sultan arose, and reascended his throne.

Universal expectation enchained all present; they scarcely breathed;

one could have heard a mouse crawl over the hall, so mute and

attentive were all. The hindmost extended their necks, in order to get

a view of the chests, over the heads of those in front. The sultan

spoke: "Open the chests;" and they, which before no violence could

force, now sprang open of their own accord.

In the one which Omar had chosen, lay upon a velvet cushion, a small

golden crown, and a sceptre: in Labakan's, a large needle, and a

little linen thread. The sultan commanded both to bring their caskets

before him: he took the little crown from the cushion in his hand,

and, wonderful to see! it became larger and larger, until it reached

the size of a real crown. Placing it on his son Omar, who kneeled

before him, he kissed his forehead, and bade him sit upon his right

hand. To Labakan, however, he turned and said:--

"There is an old proverb, 'Shoemaker, stick to thy last;' it seems

that thou shouldst stick to thy needle. Thou hast not, indeed, merited

much mercy at my hands, but one has supplicated for thee, whom this

day I can refuse nothing; therefore give I thee thy paltry life; but,

if I may advise, haste thee to leave my land."

Ashamed, ruined as he was, the poor tailor could answer nothing: he

threw himself before the prince, and tears came into his eyes.

"Can you forgive me, prince?" he said.

"To be true to a friend, magnanimous to a foe, is the pride of the

Abassidæ!" answered the prince, raising him. "Go in peace!"

"My true son!" cried the old sultan, deeply affected, and sinking upon

Omar's breast. The emirs and bashaws, and all the nobles of the

realm, arose from their seats, to welcome the new prince, and amid

this universal jubilee, Labakan, his chest under his arm, crept out of

the saloon.

He went down into the sultan's stable, bridled his horse Murva, and

rode forth from the gate towards Alexandria. His whole career as

prince recurred to him as a dream, and the splendid chest, richly

adorned with pearls and diamonds, alone convinced him that it was not

all an idle vision. Having at last reached Alexandria, he rode to the

house of his old master, dismounted, and fastening his horse to the

door, walked into the workshop. The master, who did not even know him,

made a low bow and asked what was his pleasure: when, however, he had

a nearer view of his guest, and recognised his old Labakan, he called

to his journeymen and apprentices, and all precipitated themselves,

like mad, upon poor Labakan, who expected no such reception; they

bruised and beat him with smoothing-irons and yard-sticks, pricked him

with needles, and pinched him with sharp shears, until he sank down,

exhausted, on a heap of old clothes. As he lay there, the master

ceased, for a moment, from his blows, to ask after the stolen

garments: in vain Labakan assured him that he had come back on that

account alone, to set all right; in vain offered him threefold

compensation for his loss; the master and his journeymen fell upon him

again, beat him terribly, and turned him out of doors. Sore and

bruised, he mounted Murva, and rode to a caravansery. There he laid

down his weary lacerated head, reflecting on the sorrows of earth, on

merit so often unrewarded, and on the nothingness and transientness of

all human blessings. He went to sleep with the determination to give

up all hopes of greatness, and to become an honest burgher. Nor on the

following day did he repent of his resolution, for the heavy hands of

his master, and the journeymen, had cudgelled out of him all thoughts

of nobility.

He sold his box to a jeweller for a high price, and fitted up a

workshop for his business. When he had arranged all, and had hung out,

before his window, a sign with the inscription, LABAKAN, MERCHANT

TAILOR, he sat down and began with the needle and thread he had found

in the chest, to mend the coat which his master had so shockingly

torn. He was called off from his work, but on returning to it, what a

wonderful sight met his eyes! The needle was sewing industriously

away, without being touched by any one; it took fine, elegant

stitches, such as Labakan himself had never made even in his most

skilful moments.

Truly the smallest present of a kind fairy is useful, and of great

value! Still another good quality had the gift; be the needle as

industrious as it might, the little stock of thread never gave out.

Labakan obtained many customers, and was soon the most famous tailor

for miles around. He cut out the garments, and took the first stitch

therein with the needle, and immediately the latter worked away,

without cessation, until the whole was completed. Master Labakan soon

had the whole city for customers, for his work was beautiful, and his

charges low; and only one thing troubled the brains of the people of

Alexandria, namely, how he finished his work entirely without

journeymen, and with closed doors.

Thus was the motto of the chest which promised fortune and wealth

undergoing its accomplishment. FORTUNE AND WEALTH accompanied, with

gradual increase, the steps of the good tailor, and when he listened

to the praises of the young sultan Omar, who lived in every mouth;

when he heard that this brave man was the object of his people's pride

and love, the terror of his enemies; then would the quondam prince say

to himself, "Still is it better that I remained a tailor, for HONOR

AND FAME are ever accompanied by danger."

Thus lived Labakan, contented with himself, respected by his

fellow-burghers; and if the needle, meanwhile, has not lost her

cunning, she is still sewing with the everlasting thread of the good

Fairy Adolzaide.

[Illustration]

* * * * *

At sundown the Caravan set out, and soon reached Birket-el-had, or

"the Pilgrims' Fountain," whence the distance to Cairo was three

leagues. The Caravan had been expected at this time, and the merchants

soon had the pleasure of seeing their friends coming forth from the

city to meet them. They entered through the gate Bebel-Falch, for it

was considered a good omen for those who came from Mecca to enter by

this gate, because the Prophet himself had passed through it.

At the market-place the four Turkish merchants took leave of the

stranger and the Greek Zaleukos, and went home with their friends.

Zaleukos, however, showed his companion a good caravansery, and

invited him to dine with him. The stranger agreed, and promised to

make his appearance as soon as he should have changed his dress. The

Greek made every arrangement for giving a fine entertainment to the

stranger, for whom, upon the journey, he had conceived a deep feeling

of esteem; and when the meats and drink had been brought in in proper

order, he seated himself, waiting for his guest.

He heard slow and heavy steps approaching through the gallery which

led to their apartment. He arose in order to meet him as a friend, and

welcome him upon the threshold; but, full of horror, he started back

as the door opened--the same frightful Red-mantle walked in before

him! His eyes were still turned upon him; it was no illusion: the same

lofty, commanding figure, the mask, from beneath which shone forth the

dark eyes, the red cloak with embroidery of gold--all were but too

well known to him, impressed upon his mind as they had been during the

most awful moments of his life.

The breast of Zaleukos heaved with contending emotions; he had long

since felt reconciled towards this too-well-remembered apparition, and

forgiven him; nevertheless his sudden appearance opened every wound

afresh. All those torturing hours of anguish, that wo which had

envenomed the bloom of his life, rushed back for a moment, crowding

upon his soul.

"What wishest thou, terrible one?" cried the Greek, as the apparition

still stood motionless upon the threshold. "Away with thee, that I may

curse thee not!"

"Zaleukos!" said a well-known voice from under the mask: "Zaleukos! is

it thus that you receive your guest?" The speaker removed the mask,

and threw back his cloak: it was Selim Baruch, the stranger! But still

Zaleukos seemed not at ease, for he too plainly recognised in him the

Unknown of the Ponte Vecchio: nevertheless, old habits of hospitality

conquered; he silently motioned to the stranger to seat himself at the

table.

"I can guess your thoughts," commenced the latter, when they had taken

their places: "your eyes look inquiringly upon me. I might have been

silent, and your gaze would never more have beheld me; but I owe you

an explanation, and therefore did I venture to appear before you in my

former guise, even at the risk of receiving your curse. You once said

to me, 'The faith of my fathers bids me love him; and he is probably

more unhappy than myself:' be assured of this, my friend, and listen

to my justification.

"I must begin far back, in order that you may fully understand my

story. I was born in Alexandria, of Christian parents. My father, the

youngest son of an ancient illustrious French family, was consul for

his native land in the city I have just mentioned. From my tenth year

I was brought up in France, by one of my mother's brothers, and left

my fatherland for the first time a few years after the revolution

broke out there, in company with my uncle, who was no longer safe in

the land of his ancestors, in order to seek refuge with my parents

beyond the sea. We landed eagerly, hoping to find in my father's house

the rest and quiet of which the troubles of France had deprived us.

But ah! in my father's house I found not all as it should be: the

external storms of these stirring times had not, it is true, reached

it; but the more unexpectedly had misfortune made her home in the

inmost hearts of my family. My brother, a promising young man, first

secretary of my father, had shortly before married a young lady, the

daughter of a Florentine noble who lived in our vicinity: two days

before our arrival she had suddenly disappeared, and neither our

family nor her own father could discern the slightest trace of her.

At last they came to the conclusion that she had ventured too far in a

walk, and had fallen into the hands of robbers. Almost agreeable was

this thought to my poor brother, when compared to the truth, which

only too soon became known. The perfidious one had eloped with a young

Neapolitan, with whom she had become acquainted in her father's house.

My brother, who was exceedingly affected by this step, employed every

means to bring the guilty one to punishment; but in vain: his

attempts, which in Naples and Florence had excited wonder, served only

to complete his and our misfortune. The Florentine nobleman returned

to his native land, under the pretence of seeing justice done to my

brother, but with the real determination of destroying us all. He

frustrated all those examinations which my brother had set on foot,

and knew how to use his influence, which he had obtained in various

ways, so well, that my father and brother fell under suspicion of

their government, were seized in the most shameful manner, carried to

France, and there suffered death by the axe of the executioner. My

poor mother lost her mind; and not until ten long months had passed,

did death release her from her awful situation, though for the few

last days she was possessed of perfect consciousness. Thus did I now

stand isolated in the world: one thought alone occupied my whole soul,

one thought alone bade me forget my sorrows; it was the mighty flame

which my mother in her last moments had kindled within me.

"In her last moments, as I said, recollection returned; she had me

summoned, and spoke with composure of our fate, and her own death.

Then she sent all out of the room, raised herself, with a solemn air,

from her miserable bed, and said that I should receive her blessing,

if I would swear to accomplish something with which she would charge

me. Amazed at the words of my dying mother, I promised with an oath to

do whatever she should tell me. She thereupon broke forth in

imprecations against the Florentine and his daughter, and charged me,

with the most frightful threats of her curse, to avenge upon him the

misfortunes of my house. She died in my arms. This thought of

vengeance had long slumbered in my soul; it now awoke in all its

might. I collected what remained of my paternal property, and bound

myself by an oath to stake it all upon revenge, and, rather than be

unsuccessful, to perish in the attempt.

"I soon arrived in Florence, where I kept myself as private as

possible; it was very difficult to put my plan in execution on account

of the situation which my enemy occupied. The old Florentine had

become governor, and thus had in his hand all the means of destroying

me, should he entertain the slightest suspicion. An accident came to

my assistance. One evening I saw a man in well-known livery, walking

through the streets: his uncertain gait, his gloomy appearance, and

the muttered 'Santo sacramento,' and 'Maledetto diavolo,' soon made me

recognise old Pietro, a servant of the Florentine, whom I had formerly

known in Alexandria. There was no doubt but that he was in a passion

with his master, and I resolved to turn his humor to my advantage. He

appeared much surprised to see me there, told me his grievances, that

he could do nothing aright for his master since he had become

governor, and my gold supported by his anger soon brought him over to

my side. Most of the difficulty was now removed: I had a man in my

pay, who would open to me at any hour the doors of my enemy, and from

this time my plan of vengeance advanced to maturity with still greater

rapidity. The life of the old Florentine seemed to me too pitiful a

thing, to be put into the balance with that of my whole family.

Murdered before him, he must see the dearest object of his love, and

this was his daughter Bianca. It was she that had so shamefully

wronged my brother, it was she that had been the author of our

misfortunes. My heart, thirsting for revenge, eagerly drank in the

intelligence, that Bianca was on the point of being married a second

time; it was settled--she must die. But as my soul recoiled at the

deed, and I attributed too little nerve to Pietro, we looked around

for a man to accomplish our fell design. I could hire no Florentine,

for there was none that would have undertaken such a thing against the

governor. Thereupon Pietro hit upon a plan, which I afterwards

adopted, and he thereupon proposed you, being a foreigner and a

physician, as the proper person. The result you know: only, through

your excessive foresight and honesty, my undertaking seemed, at one

time, to be tottering; hence the scene with the mantle.

"Pietro opened for us the little gate in the governor's palace; he

would have let us out, also, in the same secret manner, if we had not

fled, overcome by horror at the frightful spectacle, which, through

the crack of the door, presented itself to our eyes. Pursued by terror

and remorse, I ran on about two hundred paces, until I sank down upon

the steps of a church. There I collected myself again, and my first

thought was of you, and your awful fate, if found within the house.

"I crept back to the palace, but neither of Pietro nor yourself could

I discover a single trace. The door, however, was open, and I could at

least hope that you had not neglected this opportunity of flight.

"But when the day broke, fear of detection, and an unconquerable

feeling of remorse, allowed me to remain no longer within the walls of

Florence. I hastened to Rome. Imagine my consternation, when, after a

few days, the story was everywhere told, with the addition that, in a

Grecian physician, they had detected the murderer. In anxious fear, I

returned to Florence; my vengeance now seemed too great: I cursed it

again and again, for with your life it was purchased all too dearly. I

arrived on the same day which cost you a hand. I will not tell you

what I felt, when I saw you ascend the scaffold, and bear all with

such heroism. But when the blood gushed forth in streams, then was my

resolution taken, to sweeten the rest of your days. What has since

happened you know; it only now remains to tell you, why I have

travelled with you. As the thought that you had never yet forgiven me,

pressed heavily upon me, I determined to spend some days with you, and

at last to give you an explanation of what I had done."

Silently had the Greek listened to his guest; with a kind look, as he

finished, he offered him his right hand.

"I knew very well that you must be more unhappy than I, for that awful

deed will, like a thick cloud, forever darken your days. From my heart

I forgive you. But answer me yet one question: how came you under this

form, in the wilderness? What did you set about, after purchasing my

house in Constantinople?"

"I returned to Alexandria," answered the guest. "Hate against all

mankind raged in my bosom; burning hate, in particular, against that

people, whom they call 'the polished nation.' Believe me, my Moslem

friends pleased me better. Scarcely a month had I been in Alexandria,

when the invasion of my countrymen took place. I saw in them only the

executioners of my father and brother; I, therefore, collected some

young people of my acquaintance, who were of the same mind as myself,

and joined those brave Mamelukes, who were so often the terror of the

French host. When the campaign was finished, I could not make up my

mind to return to the peaceful arts. With my little band of congenial

friends, I led a restless, careless life, devoted to the field and the

chase. I live contented among this people, who honor me as their

chief; for though my Asiatics are not quite so refined as your

Europeans, yet are they far removed from envy and slander, from

selfishness and ambition."

Zaleukos thanked the stranger for his relation, but did not conceal

from him, that he would find things better suited to his rank and

education, if he would live and work in Christian, in European lands.

With delight his companion looked upon him.

"I know by this," said he, "that you have entirely forgiven me, that

you love me: receive, in return, my heartfelt thanks." He sprang up,

and stood in full height before the Greek, whom the warlike air, the

dark sparkling eyes, the deep mysterious voice of his guest, almost

inspired with fear. "Thy proposal is intended kindly," continued he;

"for another it might have charms; but I--I cannot accept it. Already

stands my horse saddled: already do my attendants await me. Farewell,

Zaleukos!"

The friends whom destiny had so strangely thrown together, embraced at

parting. "And how may I call thee? What is the name of my guest, who

will forever live in my remembrance?" exclaimed the Greek.

The stranger gazed at him some time, and said, as he pressed his hand

once more: "They call me 'the lord of the wilderness;' I am THE ROBBER

ORBASAN!"

THE END.

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Transcriber's Note

Minor punctuation errors have been corrected without note. There is

some archaic spelling in this text, which has been retained as printed,

for example, pedler, phrensy, wo, etc. The single oe ligature has not

been retained.

The author dedication at the beginning of the book appears exactly as

printed in the original, although it appears that there is some text

missing from the start of it.

The following amendments have been made:

Page 101--thus amended to this--"... only this much I

know, that whoever ..."

Page 136--Nourmahal amended to Nurmahal--"... and asked

where Nurmahal and Mirza were."

Page 188--Saaud amended to Saoud--"The old prince was

Saoud, sultan of the Wechabites."

Page 204--sheers amended to shears--"... and pinched him

with sharp shears, until he sank down, ..."

Illustrations have been moved slightly where they were previously

located in the middle of a paragraph. The frontispiece illustration

has been moved to follow the title page.

Advertising material has been moved to the end of the text.

End of Project Gutenberg's The Oriental Story Book, by Wilhelm Hauff