returned home, and next morning Schemselnihar's confidant came to
him. He told her that he had given the prince of Persia hopes
that he should shortly see her mistress. "I am come on purpose,"
answered she, "to concert measures with you for that end. I think
this house will be convenient enough for their interview." "I
could receive them very well here," replied he, "but I think they
will have more liberty in another house of mine where no one
resides at present; I will immediately furnish it for their
reception." "There remains nothing then for me to do," replied
the confidant, "but to bring Schemselnihar to consent to this. I
will go and speak to her, and return speedily with an answer."
She was as diligent as her promise, and returning to the
jeweller, told him that her mistress would not fail to keep the
appointment in the evening. In the mean time she gave him a
purse, and told him it was to prepare a collation. He carried her
immediately to the house where the lovers were to meet, that she
might know whither to bring her mistress: and when she was gone,
he went to borrow from his friends gold and silver plate,
tapestry, rich cushions, and other furniture, with which he
furnished the house very magnificently; and when he had put all
things in order, went to the prince of Persia.
You may easily conceive the prince of Persia's joy, when the
jeweller told him that he came to conduct him to the house he had
prepared to receive him and Schemselnihar. This news made him
forget all his former trouble. He put on a magnificent robe, and
went without his retinue along with the jeweller; who led him
through several by-streets that nobody might observe them, and at
last brought him to the house, where they conversed together
until Schemselnihar's arrival.
They did not wait long for this passionate lover. She came after
evening prayer, with her confidant, and two other slaves. It is
impossible to express the excess of joy that seized these two
lovers when they saw one another. They sat down together upon a
sofa, looking upon one another for some time, without being able
to speak, they were so much overjoyed: but when their speech
returned, they soon made up for their silence. They said to each
other so many tender things, as made the jeweller, the confidant,
and the two other slaves weep. The jeweller however restrained
his tears, to attend the collation, which he brought in himself.
The lovers ate and drank little, after which they sat down again
upon the sofa: Schemselnihar asked the jeweller if he had a lute,
or any other instrument, The jeweller, who took care to provide
all that could please her, brought her a lute: she spent some
time in tuning it, and then sung.
While Schemselnihar was charming the prince of Persia, and
expressing her passion by words composed extempore, a great noise
was heard; and immediately the slave, whom the jeweller had
brought with him, came in great alarm to tell him that some
people were breaking in at the gate; that he asked who they were,
but instead of any answer the blows were redoubled. The jeweller,
being alarmed, left Schemselnihar and the prince to inform
himself of the truth of this intelligence. No sooner had he got
to the court, than he perceived, notwithstanding the darkness of
the night, a company of men armed with spears and cimeters, who
had broken the gate, and came directly towards him. He stood
close to a wall for fear of his life, and saw ten of them pass
without being perceived by them. Finding he could give no great
assistance to the prince of Persia and Schemselnihar, he
contented himself with lamenting their fate, and fled for refuge
to a neighbour's house, who was not yet gone to bed. He did not
doubt but this unexpected violence was by the caliph's order,
who, he thought, had been informed of his favourite's meeting the
prince of Persia there. He heard a great noise in his house,
which continued till midnight: and when all was quiet, as he
thought, he desired his neighbour to lend him a cimeter; and
being thus armed, went on till he came to the gate of his own
house: he entered the court full of fear, and perceived a man,
who asked him who he was; he knew by his voice that it was his
own slave. "How did you manage," said he, "to avoid being taken
by the watch?" "Sir," answered the slave, "I hid myself in a
corner of the court, and I went out as soon as I heard the noise.
But it was not the watch who broke into your house: they were
robbers, who within these few days robbed another house in this
neighbourhood. They doubtless had notice of the rich furniture
you brought hither, and had that in view."
The jeweller thought his slave's conjecture probable enough. He
entered the house, and saw that the robbers had taken all the
furniture out of the apartment where he received Schemselnihar
and her lover, that they had also carried off the gold and silver
plate, and, in a word, had left nothing. Perceiving this
desolation, he exclaimed, "O heaven! I am irrecoverably ruined!
What will my friends say, and what excuse can I make when I shall
tell them that the robbers have broken into my house, and robbed
me of all they had generously lent me? I shall never be able to
make up their loss. Besides, what is become of Schemselnihar and
the prince of Persia? This business will be so public, that it
will be impossible but it must reach the caliph's ears. He will
get notice of this meeting, and I shall fall a sacrifice to his
fury." The slave, who was very much attached to him, endeavoured
to comfort him. "As to Schemselnihar," said he, "the robbers
would probably consent themselves with stripping her, and you
have reason to think that she is retired to her palace with her
slaves. The prince of Persia too has probably escaped, so that
you have reason to hope the caliph will never know of this
adventure. As for the loss your friends have sustained, that is a
misfortune that you could not avoid. They know very well the
robbers are numerous, that they have not only pillaged the house
I have already spoken of, but many other houses of the principal
noblemen of the court: and they are not ignorant that,
notwithstanding the orders given to apprehend them, nobody has
been yet able to seize any of them. You will be acquitted by
restoring your friends the value of the things that are stolen,
and, blessed be God, you will have enough left."
While they were waiting for day-light, the jeweller ordered the
slave to mend the street door, which was broken, as well as he
could: after which he returned to his usual residence with his
slave, making melancholy reflections on what had happened. "Ebn
Thaher," said he to himself, "has been wiser than I; he foresaw
the misfortune into which I have blindly thrown myself: would to
God I had never meddled in this intrigue, which will, perhaps,
cost me my life!"
It was scarcely day when the report of the robbery spread through
the city, and a great many of his friends and neighbours came to
his house to express their concern for his misfortune; but were
curious to know the particulars. He thanked them for their
affection, and had at least the consolation, that he heard no one
mention Schemselnihar or the prince of Persia: which made him
believe they were at their houses, or in some secure place.
When the jeweller was alone, his servants brought him something
to eat, but he had no appetite. About noon one of his slaves came
to tell him there was a man at the gate, whom he knew not, that
desired to speak with him. The jeweller, not choosing to receive
a stranger into his house, rose up, and went to speak to him.
"Though you do not know me," said the man; "I know you, and I am
come to talk to you about an important affair." The jeweller
desired him to come in. "No," answered the stranger "if you
please, rather take the trouble to go with me to your other
house." "How know you," asked the jeweller, "that I have another
house?" "I know very well," answered the stranger; "follow me,
and do not fear any thing: I have something to communicate which
will please you." The jeweller went immediately with him; and
after he had considered by the way how the house they were going
to had been robbed, he said to him that it was not fit to receive
him.
When they were before the house, and the stranger saw the gate
half broken down, he said to the jeweller, "I see you have told
me the truth. I will conduct you to a place where we shall be
better accommodated." When he had thus spoken, he went on, and
walked all the rest of the day without stopping. The jeweller
being fatigued with his walk, vexed to see night approach, and
that the stranger went on without telling him where he was going,
began to lose his patience, when they came to a path which led to
the Tigris. As soon as they reached the river, they embarked in a
little boat, and went over. The stranger led the jeweller through
a long street, where he had never been before; and after he had
brought him through several by-streets, he stopped at a gate,
which he opened. He made the jeweller go in before him, he then
shut and bolted the gate, with a huge iron bolt, and conducted
him to a chamber, where there were ten other men, all of them as
great strangers to the jeweller as he who had brought him hither.
These ten men received him without much ceremony. They desired
him to sit down, of which he had great need; for he was not only
out of breath with walking so far, but his terror at finding
himself with people whom he thought he had reason to fear would
have disabled him from standing. They waited for their leader to
go to supper, and as soon as he came it was served up. They
washed their hands, obliged the jeweller to do the like, and to
sit at table with them. After supper the men asked him, if he
knew whom he spoke to? He answered, "No; and that he knew not the
place he was in." "Tell us your last night's adventure," said
they to him, "and conceal nothing from us." The jeweller, being
astonished at this request, answered, "Gentlemen, it is probable
you know it already." "That is true," replied they; "the young
man and the young lady, who were at your house yesternight, told
it us; but we would know it from your own mouth." The jeweller
needed no more to inform him that he spoke to the robbers who had
broken into and plundered his house. "Gentlemen," said he, "I am
much troubled for that young man and lady; can you give me any
tidings of them?"
Upon the jeweller's inquiry of the thieves, if they knew any
thing of the young man and the young lady, they answered, "Be not
concerned for them, they are safe and well," so saying, they
shewed him two closets, where they assured him they were
separately shut up. They added, "We are informed you alone know
what relates to them, which we no sooner came to understand, but
we shewed them all imaginable respect, and were so far from doing
them any injury, that we treated them with all possible kindness
on your account. We answer for the same," proceeded they, "for
your own person, you may put unlimited confidence in us."
The jeweller being encouraged by this assurance, and overjoyed to
hear that the prince of Persia and Schemselnihar were safe,
resolved to engage the robbers yet farther in their interest. He
commended them, flattered them, and gave them a thousand
benedictions. "Gentlemen," said he, "I must confess I have not
the honour to know you, yet it is no small happiness to me that I
am not wholly unknown to you; and I can never be sufficiently
grateful for the favours which that knowledge has procured me at
your hands. Not to mention your great humanity, I am fully
persuaded now, that persons of your character are capable of
keeping a secret faithfully, and none are so fit to undertake a
great enterprise, which you can best bring to a good issue by
your zeal, courage, and intrepidity. Confiding in these
qualities, which are so much your due, I hesitate not to tell you
my whole history, with that of those two persons you found in my
house, with all the fidelity you desire me."
After the jeweller had thus secured, as he thought, the
confidence of the robbers, he made no scruple to relate to them
the whole amour of the prince of Persia and Schemselnihar, from
the beginning of it to the time he had received them into his
house.
The robbers were greatly astonished at all the particulars they
heard, and could not forbear exclaiming, "How! is it possible
that the young man should be the illustrious Ali Ebn Becar,
prince of Persia, and the young lady the fair and celebrated
beauty Schemselnihar?" The jeweller assured them nothing was more
certain, and that they need not think it strange, that persons of
so distinguished a character should wish not to be known.
Upon this assurance of their quality, the robbers went
immediately, one after another, and threw themselves at their
feet, imploring their pardon, and protesting that nothing of the
kind would have happened to them, had they been informed of the
quality of their persons before they broke into the house; and
that they would by their future conduct endeavour to make amends
for the crime they had thus ignorantly committed. Then turning to
the jeweller, they told him, they were heartily sorry they could
not restore to him all that had been taken from him, part of it
being no longer in their possession, but as for what remained, if
he would content himself with his plate, it should be forthwith
put into his hand.
The jeweller was overjoyed at the favour done him, and after the
robbers had delivered to him the plate, they required of the
prince, Schemselnihar, and him, to promise them upon oath, that
they would not betray them, and they would carry them to a place
whence they might easily return to their respective homes. The
prince, Schemselnihar, and the jeweller, replied, that they might
rely on their words, but since they desired an oath of them, they
solemnly swore not to discover them. The thieves, satisfied with
this, immediately went out with them.
On the way, the jeweller, uneasy at not seeing the confidant and
the two slaves, came up to Schemselnihar, and begged her to
inform him what was become of them. She answered, she knew
nothing of them, and that all she could tell him was, that she
was carried away from his house, ferried over the river, and
brought to the place from whence they were just come.
Schemselnihar and the jeweller had no farther conversation; they
let the robbers conduit them with the prince to the river's side,
when the robbers immediately took boat, and carried them over to
the opposite bank.
While the prince, Schemselnihar, and the jeweller were landing,
they heard the noise of the horse patrol coming towards them,
just as the boat had conveyed the robbers back.
The commander of the brigade demanded of the prince,
Schemselnihar, and the jeweller, who they were, and whence they
had come so late? Frightened as they were, and apprehensive of
saying any thing that might prejudice them, they could not speak;
but at length it was necessary they should. The jeweller's mind
being most at ease, he said, "Sir, I can assure you, we are
respectable people of the city. The persons who have just landed
us, and are now returned to the other side of the water, are
thieves, who having last night broke open the house where we
were, pillaged it, and afterwards carried us to their quarters,
whence by fair words, we prevailed on them to let us have our
liberty; and they brought us hither. They have restored us part
of the booty they had taken from us." At which words he shewed
the parcel of plate he had recovered.
The commander, not satisfied with what the jeweller had told him,
came up to him and the prince of Persia, and looking steadfastly
at them, said, "Tell me truly, who is this lady? How came you to
know her?"
These questions embarrassed them so much that neither of them
could answer; till at length Schemselnihar extricated them from
their difficulty, and taking the commander aside, told him who
she was; which he no sooner heard, than he alighted with
expressions of great respect and politeness, and ordered his men
to bring two boats.
When the boats were come, he put Schemselnihar into one, and the
prince of Persia and the jeweller into the other, with two of his
people in each boat; with orders to accompany each of them
whithersoever they were bound. The boats took different routes,
but we shall at present speak only of that which contained the
prince and the jeweller.
The prince, to save his guides trouble, bade them land the
jeweller at his house, naming the place. The guide, by this
direction, stopped just before the caliph's palace, which put
both him and the jeweller into great alarm; for although they had
heard the commander's orders to his men, they could not help
imagining they were to be delivered up to the guard, to be
brought before the caliph next morning.
This nevertheless was not the intention of the guides. For after
they had landed them, they, by their master's command,
recommended them to an officer of the caliph's guard who assigned
them two soldiers to conduct them by land to the prince's house,
which was at some distance from the river. They arrived there,
but so tired and weary that they could hardly move.
The prince being come home, with the fatigue of his journey, and
this misadventure to himself and Schemselnihar, which deprived
him of all hope of ever seeing her more, fell into a swoon on his
sofa. While the greatest part of his servants were endeavoring to
recover him, the rest gathered about the jeweller, and begged him
to tell them what had happened to the prince their lord, whose
absence had occasioned them such inexpressible uneasiness.
While the greatest part of the prince's domestics were
endeavouring to recover him from his swoon, others of them got
about the jeweller, desiring to know what had happened to their
lord. The jeweller, who took care to discover nothing that was
not proper for them to know, told them that it was an
extraordinary case, but that it was not a time to relate it, and
that they would do better to go and assist the prince. By good
fortune the prince came to himself that moment, and those that
but just before required his history with so much earnestness
retreated to a respectful distance.
Although the prince had in some measure recovered his
recollection, he continued so weak that he could not open his
mouth to speak. He answered only by signs, even to his nearest
relations, when they spoke to him. He remained in this condition
till next morning, when the jeweller came to take leave of him.
He could answer only by a movement of his eyes, and holding out
his right hand; but when he saw he was laden with a bundle of
plate, which the thieves had returned to him, he made a sign to
his servants that they should take it and carry it to his house.
The jeweller had been expected with great impatience by his
family the day he departed with the stranger; but now he was
quite given over, and it was no longer doubted but some disaster
had befallen him. His wife, children, and servants, were in the
greatest alarm, and lamenting him. When he arrived, their joy was
excessive; yet they were troubled to see that he was so much
altered in the short interval, that he was hardly to be known.
This was occasioned by the great fatigue of the preceding day,
and the fears he had undergone all night, which would not permit
him to sleep. Finding himself much indisposed, he continued at
home two days, and would admit only one of his intimate friends
to visit him.
The third day, finding himself something better, he thought he
might recover strength by going abroad to take the air; and
therefore went to the shop of a rich merchant of his
acquaintance, with whom he continued long in conversation. As he
was rising to take leave of his friend to return home, he
observed a woman making a sign to him, whom he presently knew to
be the confidant of Schemselnihar. Between fear and joy, he made
what haste he could away, without looking at her; but she
followed him, as he feared she would, the place they were in
being by no means proper to converse in. As he quickened his
pace, she, not being able to overtake him, every now and then
called out to him to stay.
He heard her; but after what had happened, he did not think fit
to speak to her in public, for fear of giving cause to suspect
that he was connected with Schemselnihar. It was known to every
body in Bagdad, that this woman belonged to her, and executed all
her little commissions. He continued the same pace, and at length
reached a mosque, where he knew but few people came. He entered,
and she followed him, and they had a long conversation together,
without any body overhearing them.
Both the jeweller and confidant expressed much joy at seeing each
other, after the strange adventure of the robbers, and their
reciprocal apprehension for each other, without regarding their
own particular persons.
The jeweller wished her to relate to him how she escaped with the
two slaves, and what she knew of Schemselnihar from the time he
lost sight of her; but so great was her eagerness to know what
had happened to him from the time of their unexpected separation,
that he found himself obliged to satisfy her. "Having given you
the detail you desired," said he, "oblige me in your turn," which
she did in the following manner.
"When I first saw the robbers, I hastily imagined that they were
soldiers of the caliph's guard, and that the caliph being
informed of Schemselnihar's going out, had sent them to put her,
the prince, and all of us to death. Under this impression I
immediately got up to the terrace of your house, when the thieves
entered the apartment where the prince and Schemselnihar were,
and I was soon after followed by that lady's two slaves. From
terrace to terrace, we came at last to a house of very honest
people, who received us with much civility, and with whom we
lodged that night.
"Next morning, after thanking the master of the house for our
good usage, we returned to Schemselnihar's palace, where we
entered in great disorder and distress, because we could not
learn the fate of the two unfortunate lovers. The other women of
Schemselnihar were astonished to see me return without their
lady. We told them, we had left her at the house of one of her
female friends, and that she would send for us when she wished to
come home; with which excuse they seemed well satisfied.
"For my part, I spent the day in great uneasiness, and when night
arrived, opening a small private gate, I espied a little boat on
the canal which seemed driven by the stream. I called to the
waterman, and desired him to row up each side of the river, and
look if he could not see a lady; and if he found her, to bring
her along with him. The two slaves and I waited impatiently for
his return, and at length, about midnight, we saw the boat coming
down with two men in it, and a woman lying along in the stern.
When the boat was come up, the two men helped the woman to rise,
and then it was I knew her to be Schemselnihar. I cannot express
my joy at seeing her.
"I gave my hand to Schemselnihar to help her out of the boat; she
had great need of my assistance, for she could hardly stand. When
she was landed, she whispered me in a tone expressive of her
affliction, and bade me go and take a purse of one thousand
pieces of gold and give it to the two soldiers that had
accompanied her. I left her to the care of the two slaves to
support her, and having ordered the two soldiers to wait for me a
moment, I took the purse, and returned instantly; I gave it to
them, and having paid the waterman, shut the door.
"I then followed my lady, and overtook her before she had reached
her chamber. We immediately undressed her, and put her to bed,
where she had not long been, before she became so ill that for
the whole of the night we almost despaired of her life. The day
following, her other women expressed a great desire to see her;
but I told them she had been greatly fatigued, and wanted rest.
The other two women and I gave her all the assistance in our
power; but we should have given over every hope of her recovery,
had I not at last perceived that the wine which we every now and
then gave her had a sensible effect in recruiting her strength.
By importunity we at length prevailed with her to eat.