On arriving there, he found everything in order. He rested till

evening, and then went out, without any companions, to the ruins of

the destroyed town. Before sunset he was on the eastern side of them,

and had soon also found, at some distance, the marked-out stone. He

seated himself on it; and the sun had hardly gone down when he

observed the moon riding like a golden ship through the blue of the

obscure sky. He waited with palpitating heart and anxious impatience

for the moment when it should seem to stand on the mountain-ridges on

the western horizon. Then he called out quickly and loudly,

"Haschanascha!" He expected that at this call a guide would

immediately appear to him; but nothing appeared. The moon was, in the

meantime, sunk behind the mountains; but the bright and sparkling

stars still lighted the dark blue sky. He stood by the stone on which

he had hitherto sat, and was going to return to his people in the

town, discouraged at his deluded expectations, when he heard his name

called by a well-known voice. He turned towards the place from whence

it came, and soon recognized, in the light of the stars, his friend

Hassan, whom he thought he had left that morning in Shiraz.

"Well, well," said he, as he drew nearer to Jussuf, "it seemed to me

that thou stopped behind the mountains. Whenever I wished to speak

with thee of thy journey, thou always soughtest to evade me, and

turned the conversation some other way. Now all is clear to me: with

me thou needest not have made any mystery of it; since I find thee

here to-day, the third day after the new moon, I already know

everything. I regret very much that I must serve thee in this case,

for I have already conducted many on this road, and none of them have

ever come back."

"How, Hassan Assad, thou the guide that I was to find here?" exclaimed

Jussuf. "Thou wilt lead me to the object of my desires?"

"No," answered Hassan, "I cannot myself conduct thee: I can only bring

thee on the right road; but come, now, and follow me."

He led him back near the extensive ruins of the destroyed city: they

soon found tolerably passable roads, the few unobstructed tracks of

the former principal streets of the large royal city; but they were

often obliged to scramble over the rubbish of overthrown buildings,

across pillars, and the remains of mighty columns. His guide turned

now right, now left, to seek the easiest road; then backwards, then

forwards. They might, perhaps, have spent an hour scrambling about in

this manner, when at last Hassan arrived at a passage, closed with a

small iron door, which was not covered with ruins: here he took a

little silver hammer, and knocked nine times on the head of a great

nail which was in the door: at each knock he stopped for some seconds,

and Jussuf heard the sound in singular tones inside the door, as if it

reached to a great distance. At the last stroke the door flew open,

and showed a row of steps leading down to a cellar-like vault.

"Here we must descend," said Hassan; "here thou wilt see many

wonderful things, and thou wilt have rich presents; but take care not

to refuse any presents, or to speak a word: only when thou art asked

if thou hast enough, always answer no, till they abuse thee as an

unreasonable person, and ask thee what thou still desirest, then say

the word 'Ketlafgat,'--it is the name of a talisman, without which

thou canst never attain the end of thy wishes."

Jussuf observed the word, and promised to obey his instructor. They

now descended the steps together; and the door closed behind them with

a great noise. As they proceeded in profound darkness, Jussuf thought

of the talisman which he had received from Modibjah: he wished to see

if he were walking in the right road, and drew it out of the pouch:

although it was very dark, he still discerned the bright red spark in

the stone. He now descended after his guide with more courage. They

might have left about fifty steps behind when they arrived at a large

room: over this was raised a vast round vault from the ground, in the

form of a regular hemisphere. From the middle of the vault hung a

great lamp, on which, out of twelve branches, burned twelve long

dazzling white flames. The whole vault played with thousands of lights

of this flame, as if it were faced with an innumerable number of small

mirrors. As Jussuf moved to one side, curious to see the cause of this

reflection, he perceived that the vault was covered with eight large

oriental pearls of the greatest clearness, and that the space between

four of them was filled up with a smaller. He tried to detach one of

the large pearls from the wall; but it was so fast cemented that it

was impossible to remove it. In the meantime his guide had reached a

concealed door, and had knocked three times with his little hammer on

one spot. The door sprang open, and they entered a spacious

four-cornered room, on the walls of which were very large friezes,

supported too by pillars of solid gold. But each of the panels of the

flat part of the wall stood on a transparent gay green smooth-polished

stone, which Jussuf could only consider to be most valuable

emeralds--however improbable it seemed. Hassan allowed him no time to

look about him: he had already opened a third room with the strokes of

his silver hammer. The form of this was octagonal: the pillars and

sockets were of silver; but the panels rested on a precious stone of a

bright blue colour.

In the same manner they reached a more splendid and larger room. They

had already passed through twelve without having found any living

creature. Thus, with all this splendour, there was an unpleasant air

of desertion, which oppressed Jussuf so much that he would willingly

have imparted his feeling to his companion; but he strode on with such

seriousness and caution, in his passage through the opened doors and

rooms, that he had not courage to say a word aloud. After they had

passed through the twelfth chamber, Hassan knocked three times with

his hammer on the ground, which consisted of clear large and small

quadrangles of the most magnificent polished stripes of jasper.

Immediately one of these quadrangles opened and fell back, as if it

were a trap-door: here were disclosed many steps of beautiful crystal,

which led down still deeper. They descended, and the trap-door shut

down behind them. Jussuf saw no lamp by which the long descent of

steps was lighted, nor any window through which the light of day could

enter; but still it was not dark around them, for at each footstep

shone a clear blue light. He observed that this proceeded from a small

ball which rolled down before him from step to step, and, every time

that it alighted on a step, a clear blue ray of light streamed out,

which spread out its rays till the ball had rolled to another. At last

the steps ceased, and before him extended a long passage, the opposite

end of which was lighted by a clear point: they approached it, and

soon discovered a folding-door with glass windows, through which shone

the bright daylight. They passed through it, and found themselves in a

splendid garden, full of rare flowers and shrubs, such as Jussuf had

never before seen. At the entrance, two slaves approached him, who

bowed to him respectfully, but silently, and beckoned to him to follow

them. They led him into a large summer-house: there sat some men whom

Jussuf took for dervishes; they stood up and greeted him.

"Thou comest to fetch the treasure of the poor," said one of them:

"thy desires shall be fulfilled." He immediately made a sign to the

others, and they all moved off through another door. "Men," continued

he, "certainly are complete fools; they fix their hearts on such

useless things; and the more they have the more insatiable they are."

He shook his head contemptuously. Before he had said anything more,

the remaining dervishes came back, one bringing a number of purses

filled with sequins; two others bringing precious boxes filled with

pearls; the third, two boxes with great diamonds of the finest fire; a

fourth, two boxes full of the finest emeralds; and so each one another

precious thing.

Jussuf took all the things, and hid the boxes and the purses about his

person.

"Are you satisfied?" asked the dervish who had first spoken.

And Jussuf answered, "No."

"I said so," grumbled the dervish. And, at a sign from him, the others

again went and brought, as at the first time, purses of gold and boxes

of jewels.

"Hast thou enough now?" asked the dervish.

And Jussuf, who could hardly dispose of all about him, answered, "No."

With still greater signs of displeasure, the dervish caused a fresh

burden of similar presents to be brought. And, as Jussuf could not

carry any more, he asked again, "Now hast thou not enough, at last?"

Remembering Hassan's instructions, he again answered, "No."

Then the dervish got up, and turned round on one foot angrily, and

exclaimed, "Thou shameful man, art thou insatiable? Thou canst not

take all with thee that thou hast already received, and thou must load

thy companion also with the trifles in order to convey them hence, and

yet thou hast not enough, thou glutton!"

Immediately the other dervishes surrounded him, and screamed out, as

from a cave, "Glutton! impudent creature! avaricious man!"

"And what dost thou want now?" asked the dervish.

Then Jussuf said the word that Hassan had taught him for this

occasion, "Ketlafgat."

He had hardly spoken it, when the other dervishes sat down, and he who

had asked the question went out of the summer-house. He soon came back

with a small box, which he gave to Jussuf: it was made of mean wood,

and without any ornament.

"Here is what thou desirest," said he. And, while he reached to him a

small golden key, he added, "Henceforward thou no longer needest a

guide. Go where thy inclination leads thee: thou wilt always be in the

right road if thou do not open this box with the key; but, if thou art

once in despair, and all hope has vanished of reaching the end of thy

journey, thou mayest then open it."

He made a sign with his hand, and immediately the two slaves were

ready to conduct him away. Hassan took the boxes and the purses, which

Jussuf could not carry, in his pockets, and bowed to go away.

Then the dervish called after him, "Many persons have already fetched

the Ketlafgat from us, and it has always come back to us: it will

return from thee also."

The slaves led them another way out of the garden into the entrance of

a cave in the rock, shut the door behind them, and left them in a dark

passage. They groped about with their hands, and soon felt a door.

Hassan knocked again nine times with his hammer, and, behold, the door

opened at the last blow, and they issued out at another end of the

ruins of the destroyed town into the open air.

"Now we dare speak again," said Hassan. "What dost thou think of

doing? morning is not very distant. Wilt thou not return to the town,

and unload thyself of thy treasures?"

But Jussuf shook his head thoughtfully, and said, "What shall I do?

What shall I say? I have lately witnessed such wonders that I am

almost unable to think. I am no longer the man that I was, who had a

decided will of his own. I appear to myself like a play-ball to beings

of a superhuman nature. Every man, however, plays this part to a

certain extent."

"Well, bethink thee. See, I have packed up the treasures for thee, and

would willingly be released soon from thee, for I must return to

Shiraz in good time to-day, as thou probably knowest. Let us hasten,

then, back to the little town: there thou canst consider with thy

people what thou shalt do."

Jussuf followed him in deep thought, and, soon arriving at the town,

they entered the caravanserai. The slaves received their master with

joy, for they had become suspicious at his going out without

attendants, and, not coming back at night, they feared lest some

misfortune should have happened to him.

After he had laid down the purses and the boxes with the jewels, he

turned to Hassan, and said, "Thou hast already performed so many

services for me, that I must trespass and require still further from

thee. I see that this train will be more troublesome than serviceable

to me in my long journey; but I cannot leave it behind. Do me the

pleasure of taking these slaves, camels, and all the treasures which

are contained in each bale of goods, and travel with them as if they

were thine own property. If I return happily, and thou art willing,

should I be in need, to let me have part back again, I will accept it

from thee as a free-will present; should I not return, I shall have no

more need of them."

After a short conversation, Hassan consented, and immediately ordered

his camels to be laden to return to Shiraz. Jussuf took some of the

boxes of precious stones, a good number of purses with sequins, and,

above all, the box with the talisman Ketlafgat, loaded his horse with

them, took leave of Hassan with heartfelt thankfulness, commanded his

slaves to obey their new master, mounted his horse, and rode at the

dawn of morning towards the rising of the sun.

Jussuf had proceeded ten days in this direction without anything

remarkable happening to him. On the evening of the eleventh day he

arrived at a high hill, which appeared fruitless, not a tree or a bush

to be seen. There was not a village, a hut, or a tent within his sight

all round. He was obliged to resolve to pass the night under the open

sky, and looked about to see to what he could fasten his horse; for,

although it was a tame, trusty animal, yet he was afraid that it might

run away in the night. At last, finding nothing, he unbuckled the

pack-saddle, and let his steed pasture on the half-withered grass,

which was the only thing there. Then he lay down on the ground, and

soon fell asleep; but he suddenly awoke again, and, looking for his

horse, found it had vanished; he looked towards the place where the

saddle was laid--that was not there either. It was clear to him that a

robber had taken his horse. He peered round in the deceptive

moonlight, but could perceive nothing. He was much grieved, and said

to himself, "It is quite just: I had a company of true servants, and

have sent them away in a frivolous manner; I had immense riches, and

have given them into the hands of a stranger without surety, who may

live happily in their possession whilst I must starve." But he soon

continued, with collected courage, "Yet of what use are all the goods

of the earth to me? What help would a whole army of the most faithful

and the boldest companions be to me? I seek a gift with which I shall

ever be on the right road, as the dervish said, and I always carry the

box and the golden key with me. Everything may go if the talisman

Ketlafgat remains to me, which will preserve me if despair should

seize me in the attainment of my wishes."

As he spoke thus to himself, he saw a number of riders appear in the

distance, and he soon perceived that they were riding straight to him.

He looked round for some place of shelter; but there was no place on

the level high plains where he could hide himself. The riders

approached nearer: he saw them divide and form a cross, and so they

advanced till they came quite near. Some of them alighted and went

with drawn sabres to him. He found that all defence was vain, and,

throwing away his sabre, he knelt down, bowing himself to the ground

like a humble slave.

"Seize him!" called out the leader of the horsemen, "and seat him on a

spare horse, and bring him with us; but, by your lives, stand by me,

and see that he does not escape."

Both the horsemen to whom he had spoken these words inclined full of

reverence to him, then seized Jussuf, bound his hands, and seated him

on a horse, and, taking him between them, rode, alternately seizing

the bridle of his horse, at a fast trot over the high plains. The

remaining riders followed at a little distance. With short

interruptions, which were necessary for the forage of the horses and

the rest of the men and animals, they continued riding for several

days. About the tenth day they reached a wide valley through which

flowed a great river. Jussuf saw cultivated fields, gardens, and men's

dwellings. They made him alight from his horse, and led him into the

little room of a house. There they gave him everything necessary to

make himself clean after so long a journey. For a man who had before

lived in the greatest affluence, he had felt very heavily in these

last days of his imprisonment his want of cleanliness: it seemed to

him, therefore, a most wonderful favour of fate that they now brought

him water with which to bathe himself, a comb, and some ointment for

his beard, and signified to him that he was to take a bath and anoint

himself. After he had bathed, combed his beard, and anointed himself,

he was conducted to the garden of the house; and here the owner of it

advanced towards him. After he had observed him with searching looks,

he said to his companions,

"Good! the man is quite right; keep him carefully and examine him for

nine days, then we will take him to his place, and sacrifice him to

the fire." He winked with his eye, and his servants took him back to

his chamber, which they carefully watched.

In his solitude Jussuf thought over his fate. He lamented again his

thoughtlessness in exposing himself alone to the dangers of a journey

in an unknown country; he bewailed his fate in falling into the hands

of fire-worshippers, and tried several times to open the box with the

golden key. Then said he to himself, "What hope can I now have of

attaining the end of my wishes? I am a captive, and well watched; and

if I am delivered from captivity, it will be to sacrifice me to the

flames." Often hope woke again. He still possessed the treasures that

he carried about his body, and they were not inconsiderable: he

concealed them carefully, for he hoped that they might be a means of

bribery to his companions on the road to sacrifice, and that he might

thus purchase his freedom. He received daily clean and good food, and

would have had nothing of which to complain, if he had not wanted

freedom, and had not the fear of death before his eyes.

On the morning of the ninth day he had a farther and faster passage

from the house where he was imprisoned. Eighty black slaves rode

forward on white horses. Then came as many white slaves on black

horses. After these came a number of riders, whom Jussuf could easily

discern to be those who had taken him prisoner. Behind these, and

surrounded by them, rode the master of the country, who had destined

him to be sacrificed. Then came twenty venerable grey-headed men, in

red and gold striped garments, each of whom bore a broad glittering

blade, and a bundle of dry bamboo-sticks. Behind them followed ten

youths, with coal-dishes full of glowing coals. And now Jussuf was

brought forth, and, with his hands fastened, and his feet chained to

the horse, he rode between his former companions. Behind him followed

a number of armed men, and then a crowd of people. In this order the

procession wound along the valley. Towards evening they chose a place

for encampment, and struck some tents. Jussuf was watched in a

distinct tent. As he observed that stillness reigned in the camp, he

approached the entrance of his tent, and called out, half aloud,

"I am very thirsty. Is no one here who could bring me a refreshing

drink?"

The watchman who guarded his tent answered him, "When my hour is up, I

will fetch you some water from the river. Till then remain quiet."

"Alas!" sighed Jussuf, "my lips thirst not for water; my soul thirsts

after liberty. I will prove myself very grateful if you will let me

escape."

The watchman answered, "I dare not; for my life is at stake."

This conversation continued for some time. Jussuf offered him six

purses of sequins, and a large diamond, which was worth ten times

their value. He had still a box of the finest and most costly

diamonds, which he had taken from Hassan. But the guard always urged

other objections. He did not deny that he would willingly win the

prize; but he dreaded the consequences. Jussuf proposed that he should

flee with him, and seek another home; but he would not listen to it.

"I cannot separate from my wife and children; I must return home. What

good would all the possessions of earth be to me if I were obliged to

live a fugitive in a strange country, and consume my life longing

after my kindred?"

Then a thought flashed through Jussuf's mind. "Let me stop your

mouth--let me bind and tie you, that they may perceive that you were

overcome. When they find you so, you can exculpate yourself, saying

that I was too strong for you--that I stopped your mouth, so that you

could not cry for help. I will give you what I have said, and you can

bury it in the sand, and dig it up at some fit season."

The bargain was soon struck. Jussuf gave him what he had promised. The

guard buried the purses in the sand, hid the diamond in a fold of his

garment, and then allowed Jussuf to tie his hands and feet, and to

stop his mouth. Then Jussuf passed as quietly through the camp as he

could, mounted one of the horses which stood ready saddled, and set

off at a full gallop.

Thus he escaped fortunately. He rode the whole night, and thereby won

a lengthened start. But still he feared that they might perceive the

track of the horse's hoofs, and follow him, and fetch him back; so he

killed his horse (whose strength was relaxing) with his dagger, and

fled into a neighbouring wood, where he hoped, by its thickness, to be

screened from the pursuit of riders. Here he refreshed himself by

drinking at a spring of water, and with fruits and berries, which grew

there in abundance. He then went on farther and farther. He observed,

in his flight, the traces of wild beasts, and was therefore afraid to

lie down on the ground. In the evening he climbed a high tree, bound

himself fast to a branch, and composed himself for the night. His seat

was very uncomfortable, and he always feared danger. Still his

resolution overcame his fear, and he slept quietly for some hours,

and, strengthened with new courage, he descended, and continued his

wanderings through the wood. He lived also this day on berries and

wild fruits, and again ascended a high tree in the evening, in which

he spent the night.

Thus he passed several days. At last he remarked that here the land

rose considerably. The wood soon became broken in parts with rocks;

the growth of the trees was not so considerable; the shrubs gradually

disappeared altogether; great masses of rock covered the ground.

Between them grew luxuriantly small bushes. At last only grass and

moss were to be seen. He went farther, and soon saw a bare high rock,

from which extended, far and wide, only great wooded mountains. In

the distance arose still higher cliffs over the woods, whose summits

shone white in the sunlight; and from some of them there arose a thick

smoke, as though there were a huge furnace underneath, the chimney

being the top of the mountain. The air blew here cold and cutting.

Jussuf thought he could not spend the night among the bare rocks, so

he wandered on with activity. Before night came on he had reached a

place where high trees were growing, and where he again found a safe,

but uncomfortable, sleeping-place. He wandered about for many days on

the wooded mountains, and again reached a high ridge, over which he

passed, until he arrived at a valley through which a brook ran, in a

serpentine direction, among verdant meadows. He traced the brook

through the valley, and reached a spot where it flowed into a river.

He now followed the course of the river, and as night came on before

he perceived any human habitations, he lay down on the bank among the

high grass, and resolved to sleep there, since he had not seen any

track of wild beasts in his passage through the valley. The hope of at

last reaching some inhabited spot, after so long and lonely a

wandering among deserted woods, had urged him on this day to a longer

journey, and he was thereby much exhausted. He had also only slept for

many days in a sitting and tiresome posture; he therefore found the

high grass very agreeable, and slept till dawn of morning. He would

probably have not even then awoke had he not been forced to do so.

When he came to himself, he saw some men on the ground, who were busy

fastening his hands and feet with fine but very strong string. He

wrestled with them, and threw them down. But all was in vain: he was

bound, and they laid him on a litter of bamboo-sticks, and carried him

off with rapid strides. They soon reached a place where the river

became deeper, and broader, so that it was navigable for boats. Here

lay a vessel on the bank, into which they carried him, and conveyed

him up the stream. After a journey of several hours, they reached a

great city. They passed by several gardens and country houses, and at

last arrived at the middle of the city, which was divided by the

river, but connected by several high bridges. They lay off the shore,

and carried Jussuf out of the ship into the court of a great palace,

where everybody collected at once from the neighbourhood, even the

casual passers-by. They observed him with curious looks, handled his

clothes, which were all cut and torn about by his wanderings in the

thicknesses of the woods, and laughed at him. At last the owner of the

palace appeared at the principal gate with a large retinue of

distinguished servants. From the respect of those around him, and the

awe with which all present withdrew to a distance, Jussuf concluded

that he must be the Sultan, or the Prince of the country. He looked at

the poor captive, and spoke to his servants in a language which Jussuf

did not understand. They immediately brought a large cage of strong

bamboo-poles. Jussuf was unbound, pushed in, and locked up. They then

brought out a tame elephant, put the cage on it, and so led him

through the streets of the town, whilst the crier called out some

taunting thing in every street, and pointed at him with his stick. The

boys threw stones at him, and even persons of more mature age derided

him in every possible manner. If he showed himself in pain from any of

the stones hitting him, and crouched up, or if he evaded any of the

stones by the bars of his prison, every one burst out into an

immoderate fit of laughter. Tired of their ill treatment, he cowered

on the ground, turning his face downwards, and putting his hands over

his head, to guard it against the blows of the stones. As soon as the

crier remarked this, he pushed him with his long stick, and gave him

such pokes in the ribs, that he was obliged to sit up. Jussuf was

enraged and in despair. He turned round as quickly as possible in his

narrow cage, seized a bar of the lattice-work, and, shaking it,

screamed out,

"Is there any man among you who understands my language? Do you take

me, then, for a strange outlandish animal, that you lead me about in a

cage as a sight?"

And, as no one answered him, he despaired anew, and upbraided his

tormentors. New laughter followed this. At last they accomplished the

circuit of the town. At the palace the cage was again taken down from

the elephant's back and placed on four posts, of the height of a

man's stature, which stood in the court before the entrance of the

garden of the palace. They brought him some food, consisting of

parboiled rice, which, in his displeasure, he allowed to remain

untouched. At first, several curious people had collected from among

the servants around him; but they soon dispersed, and left him alone

to despair and bitter reflection.

He thought on his situation, and how he was in a distant land where

nobody understood his language, nor could aid in delivering him from

his mournful imprisonment. At this moment death would have been

welcome. He seized his dagger, which he had carefully concealed in a

fold of his robe, intending to put an end to his life by its means. As

he drew it from the sheath, a ray of the sun fell on the blade, and

reflected back the fiery glance so as to dazzle his eyes like a glow

of fire. A spark lighted his talisman, and immediately he remembered

the words of his old preceptor Modibjah. He put the dagger back, and

took from his bosom the pouch containing the talisman; but, as he

looked at the stone, the spark disappeared. It was a milk-white stone,

like an ordinary fragment of white porcelain: then he breathed on it

with a deep sigh, and with his lips said, "Haschanascha!"

Scarcely had he pronounced this name, than a slave appeared, passed

before the cage, and said, "Oh, you poor knave, how I pity you!"

As Jussuf heard these words, he cried out joyfully, "That is my native

language! Oh, pity an unfortunate, and tell me why I am so

maltreated!"

"I dare not now," answered the slave: "wait till midnight, then I will

come and speak to you. I pity you exceedingly: at the first glance I

recognized you as a countryman, and wished extremely to lighten your

fate." With these words he disappeared through another door in the

palace.

The thought that he had found a man with whom he could converse on his

misfortune, and who felt a sympathy for him, consoled Jussuf: all idea

of killing himself was quite forgotten; on the contrary, he saw

himself again free to pursue his journey. In this disposition he felt

with renewed vigour the necessity of supporting life, and partook of

the meal spread before him. The strengthening of his body refreshed

his spirits. In gaining tranquillity of mind and body, his sorrows

passed away, and he fell asleep in his cage. He awoke at midnight: the

slave had come to speak to him.

"If you will promise with a holy oath," said he to Jussuf, "that you

will not place me in danger by your conduct, but will talk with me

quietly, for the time of our conversation, I will let you out of the

cage."

"By the beard of the Prophet!" swore Jussuf, "I will be very quiet,

and will not put you in any danger."

At this oath, the slave climbed up a small ladder and opened the cage,

which was fastened very cunningly without a lock, but so that nobody

could open it unless he knew the secret. He helped Jussuf down, and

went with him into the garden, the door of which stood open. There

they seated themselves, and Jussuf asked,

"Why am I imprisoned? What is the reason that I am held up in this

scandalous manner as a show, and shut up in a cage like a wild beast?"

To these questions the slave replied, "The King and the inhabitants of

this city are worshippers of a snake; their idol is a great serpent,

to whom they have erected a large and magnificent temple, where he is

attended by a great number of priests: the priests mislead the people,

and what they wish takes place. Now, the King has one Princess--the

daughter of his wife by a former marriage--she is black like a

negress; but she has learned from her mother to know and to venerate

the Prophet. The King loves this black Princess dearly as an only

daughter; but the priests have misled him, and persuaded him to send

her away from the Court and city, and to keep her confined in a palace

built under a stream; for they have a prophecy, according to which, at

the time when the white summit of that mountain, which lies to the

north-east from the tower of the palace and from the cupola of the

temple, can be seen to smoke, a man shall come to the kingdom who

shall marry the King's daughter, and put all the worshippers of the

serpent to fire and sword. Now," he continued, "the mountain has begun

to smoke: the King has therefore, by the advice of his priests, given

commandment to his servants to seize all the foreigners they meet,

that they may be sacrificed to their idol. So you were found, and are

now destined to be a victim. The priests know of your imprisonment,

and are making preparations for a very grand sacrifice, which is to

last seven days."

"What!" cried Jussuf, "shall I be offered to a snake--to a stupid,

superstitious fancy?" He wept, and begged and prayed the slave to let

him escape.

"How will you escape?" asked the slave. "It is not possible through

the palace--guards are at every entrance; and you would also fall into

the hands of the watchmen in the city. You cannot fly over the garden

wall, for on the other side is a deep ditch, full of mud and water. If

you jumped over, you would be embedded in the mud."

Jussuf exhausted himself in prayers and entreaties to persuade the

slave to help him in his flight.

"Only one means is possible," he replied. "To-morrow is the day on

which a messenger is usually sent to the Princess's palace, to

inquire, in the King's name, after her health and wishes. I have many

times had this commission, and will offer again. If I go, I am sure

she will have me brought before her, as she knows I belong to the

Faithful, and speak many languages which she learned from her mother.

I will relate to her your imprisonment, and ask her assistance or

counsel. She is as clever as good and innocent, and can give excellent

advice."

Although Jussuf placed little reliance on this plan, still there was

some hope of success, and the only hope that he could find. He

therefore agreed to it, and returned to his cage, in which the slave

fastened him, having told him that if he did not return at noon, he

was to take it as a sign that he was sent on the embassy to the

Princess.

On the morrow a slave brought him some food, and curious people came

with the King's servants to see him; but the day passed without Jussuf

being able to observe his countryman among the remaining slaves in the

court below. Full of hope, he watched the approach of night, when he

hoped to receive counsel and help. The slave came at midnight and

called him by his name.

"Now," said Jussuf, "what news do you bring?"

"Alas! my lord," answered the slave, "I know not what to think.

Although the Princess is a faithful follower of the Prophet, she was

very quiet when I related your history: I expected she would have

concerned herself about your being offered to a snake; but she heard

me tranquilly."

Jussuf asked if she had not sent him any counsel.

"No; she said no other word," answered the slave, "than, 'Tell your

countryman that everybody must be obedient, and resigned to the will

of Heaven. Heathenish prophecies are often the consequence of godly

truth and wisdom.'"

"What can I conclude from that?" said Jussuf. "In Allah's name, I must

give myself up as a sacrifice to a snake, because it is the will of

Heaven!"

He then broke out in desperate tears and cries.

"Listen," said the slave: "do not abandon all hope; I will give you

good counsel. She has charged me to tell the King that to-morrow she

wishes once more to visit her father in his palace. This is the first

time since she has dwelt in her own palace. The King has sent her

permission, as he thinks the prophecy cannot be now fulfilled, seeing

that he has you in his power. She will certainly go into the garden,

and pass through that farther door. When she passes, call her, and

relate your case, and beg her to deliver you. She understands your

language, and will certainly feel pity when she hears and sees you."

He now turned away as a glimmer of light fell on him from one of the

palace windows. "Farewell, I must away," whispered he; "it must not be

betrayed that I have given you advice. Do not forget to call to her:

only from her can you hope for anything. Call her Haschanascha: that

is her name." With these words he left the palace quickly.

"Haschanascha is her name! How? Is not that the name of her whom I was

to call in the ruins of the destroyed capital? Shall I not call her if

the spark in Modibjah's talisman no longer shines? Is not Haschanascha

the magic word which has led me here alone, away from all men who

understand my language and share my anxieties?"

So he spoke to himself, and determined to follow the counsel given him

by the slave.

After he had passed the night, partly in unquiet wakefulness, partly

in dozing, he observed in the early part of the morning a great

disturbance and unusual business in the courtyard. It was quiet in the

inner court, when the Princess at last came. At this moment all

pressed into the square before the palace. When Jussuf saw this, he

pulled the talisman out of his pocket, and thought, "I must see if the

stone preserves its spark. It seems a good sign of deliverance." And,

behold, as he drew it forth, the red spot shone more fiery than ever.

At noon he suddenly heard a trampling, as if the procession of slaves

of the Princess were going into the garden. He attentively watched the

appointed door, and he soon saw her pass, and her father, followed by

a long train.

At this moment Jussuf cried out, "Haschanascha! Haschanascha! pity an

unfortunate!"

On hearing the cry she looked up at Jussuf, and the King also gazed at

him full of astonishment. Meantime the Princess drew near, and he

followed her close. When he had said some words to her, she asked

Jussuf,

"My King and foster-father asks who taught you the name Haschanascha?"

Jussuf knew that he ought not to betray the faithful slave, and yet he

wished to confess the truth. He said, therefore,

"Before I knew that it was the name of a human being, my old teacher,

Modibjah, taught me, whatever difficulties and dangers befell me, to

pronounce the word Haschanascha. It has always been a defence to me

whenever I have pronounced it. May it this time also procure me

assistance!"

"You have named to me a very dear name," answered the Princess; "and

it is a sign that you are he whom I must release from being

sacrificed. But there is only one way--you must be my husband. This is

the command of a higher being whom you must obey. Examine, if you

will not thus purchase life and liberty at too dear a price. Without

the fulfilling of this condition, I cannot deliver you. I give you

time for consideration. When I return from the garden, let me know

your determination."

She pronounced these words in a loud, earnest tone, and then turned

with her father into the garden. The train of slaves accompanied them.

Jussuf gave himself up to deep thought.

"I had selected a different one for my future bride; I would not take

many wives, according to our customs, but only one companion for life,

who was my playfellow, whom I have sought for, and for whose sake I

have encountered these dangers. If I take this black Princess for my

wife, it will only be from love of life, that I may be freed from

prison. Then I must leave my old playfellow."

He thus meditated for some time, and at last resolved of the two evils

to choose the lesser. When the Princess returned from the garden, he

called her by name, and she approached with her father, and asked him,

with an earnest mien and firm tone, what resolution he had adopted.

"How could I remain a moment in doubt?" answered he. "You, dearest

Princess, will condescend to a poor unknown, and become my wife. You

are the sun of my life. Without you life is worth nothing."

At these words she broke out into a hearty laugh. When she had

finished laughing, she said, "Ah! I see you are like all men--a

hypocrite and a jester. Much truth is in your jesting words. I am the

sun of your life! Without me life would be worth nothing! Indeed,

without me, you would be sacrificed to a snake!" She seated herself,

and said, "Be not afraid: swear to me by the Prophet that you will

take me for your wife, and you shall to-day be delivered from your

prison."

Jussuf swore; and now she turned to her father, and spoke earnestly

with him in his language. But the faithful slave approached the cage,

and interpreted all that was said.

"It is not prudent to keep this man imprisoned without knowing whether

he is the right one to offer to the snake. You have seized the best,

and in the meanwhile justice is forgotten. Have the priests to the

snake called, that they may see him, and that I may speak with them."

The King answered that this would be easy, as two priests had arrived

from the snake's temple, before they had gone into the garden, to

demand an audience.

They were called, and there soon appeared the priests in long white

garments, with particoloured girdles.

"Is this the man pointed out by your god?" asked she, as they

approached Jussuf's cage.

"It is, it is!" they cried in the same voice, and bowed humbly before

the Princess.

"What have you for a sign?" she again asked.

"We have no sign," they answered; "but he it is."

"You have no sign! How, then, do you know he is the right one?" asked

she.

To which they answered, "The divine snake has discovered it."

Then she replied, with contempt, "Be silent to me about your snake!"

And she turned to the King, and said, "My King and father, will you

suffer yourself any longer to be deceived by these stupid and

obstinate men? They give out that they have divine knowledge, and yet

they are as ignorant as a maiden of sixteen! I beg you, have their

god, the snake, brought here, and I will prove that I speak truth; but

they, only deceit and falsehood."

At these words, the priests doubled their fists, and struck their

foreheads and breasts, and bowed themselves to the ground, and jumped

about as if seized by convulsions.

Then the King looked at the Princess with a frightened countenance,

and said, "Child, take heed what you do; revile not the gods."

All the servants who stood around were astonished, not rightly

comprehending what was passing. But the Princess earnestly coaxed the

King to cause the priests to bring the divine serpent there, that they

might test the truth of what she had spoken. The King gave the

command, and the priests left; at the Princess's request the King

remained. All stood around in anxious expectation.

They had not to wait long before a numerous train of priests appeared,

eight of whom bore, on four golden staves, a costly chest adorned with

gold, ebony, and precious stones, and placed it in the middle of the

court. Then they bowed before the King, and the high priest stepped

forward and said,

"The King has given us an unusual command, and we fear that a great

misfortune is about to happen. What is the reason that we are summoned

from the recesses of the temple, and must even bring the divine snake

in its chest with us?"

Then the Princess said, "I will explain all. It is doubted that you

really take charge of a divine snake; therefore let the chest be

opened, and show it to the people."

Then the priests answered, "Do the people doubt of our god? Let the

doubters approach and be convinced."

He opened the lid, and every one saw a great snake in the chest It lay

stupefied, as snakes usually do after a heavy repast.

The Princess approached the chest, and cried, "Behold, doubters! is

not this a snake?" Then she turned to the high priest, and asked, "Has

your god shown you no sign by which you may know the man that ought to

be sacrificed?" The high priest mused, but did not reply. Then she

said, "Now I will show you the truth. Man does not properly understand

heavenly things. I honour your prudence; but answer me another

question. Would your god know its enemies if there were any such here?

And would he revenge himself on them if they attempted his life?"

"Certainly, certainly!" vociferated the priest. "Fire would fall from

heaven and destroy them."

"Very well," she said; "I am the enemy, and your god dies by my hand."

And quickly, even before she had quite uttered these words, she drew

her poniard and with it pierced the head of the snake, so that the

weapon ran into its chest and transfixed it.

The priests gave a common cry, and the King seized the Princess by

both arms, and pulled her back.

"My child, my child!" he cried, "what have you done?"

"What you, my father, ought long since to have done," she replied.

"Will you all believe," she called aloud to the spectators, "that I

have done right in killing this snake, if I tell you what you will

find within it?"

After a short pause, the King answered, "Yes, certainly." And the

people cried, "Then is the snake rightly slain--it was no god."

The priests said to the King, "She shall tell us; but we will accuse

her of its death if she does not speak truth."

The Princess cried with a firm voice, "Let it be so; I promise them."

The King bowed consent.

Then she said, "There is a man among us whose wife sits at home

weeping and bewailing, for she had a beautiful little boy, eighteen

months old, who often ran about the streets. This child did not return

home yesterday: it was taken to the snake's temple, and the priests

know where it is. Let the man step forward and seek his child in the

snake's belly."

While she was speaking, a deep silence reigned around; but now a man

broke forth from the crowd, and said, "It is true; I am the man. My

beautiful boy, my Hamed, has not returned, and my wife sits at home

and weeps. I left her, for I could not bear to hear her lament."

Then arose a common shout of astonishment and compassion from all, and

he waited long for silence.

Then the Princess said to the man, "Draw your sword, cut open the

snake, and you will find your child. I do not know if life still

remain in him--the snake has only swallowed it an hour."

The man approached the chest, drew his sword with a trembling hand,

and opened the snake with an anxious face. When, behold, he pulled out

his child! He immediately ran with him from the palace, as he thought

he discovered some slight traces of life in him. Then the priests fell

on their knees before the King, and begged for pardon.

But the people, who were assembled in great crowds, cried, "Down with

them! down with them!" and laid hands on them, as the King commanded

them to be imprisoned.

The Princess now turned to the King, and said, "Let us release this

unfortunate man: he has come as a stranger into our land, to whom you

ought to have shown hospitality; instead of which you have imprisoned

him as a criminal; you have mocked and jeered him, whilst, by your

oath, you should have allowed him to quit your city free. Let what you

have said in mockery of him be now reversed to his honour; for a

King's word must not be blown away by the wind. This and no other

shall be my husband."

The King commanded, and the prisoner was immediately freed. He bowed

thankfully to the King and Princess. The King raised him, embraced

him, called him his son, and led him to the Princess, saying,

"Let him be your husband: the solemnities of marriage shall be

immediately prepared."

He caused his servants to proclaim through the city that the marriage

of Princess Haschanascha was to be celebrated the next day, and all

people were invited to assemble before the palace and to feast there.

In his palace he pointed out to Jussuf a wing, in the apartments of

which he for the future should dwell with his wife.

But the Princess said, "I will inhabit the apartments which I formerly

dwelt in in this palace; for I only consider myself as his betrothed,

till an imam of the religion which we both profess has pronounced over

us the marriage blessing."

The King did not oppose her, but said, "You may command all as it

pleases you. Since yesterday, I have discovered that you possess more

knowledge and wisdom than the rest of mankind."

The betrothal was celebrated with great splendour. The King, according

to his former oath, showed Jussuf all honour, carried him to his

different country seats, pointed out to him his gardens and lands,

prepared many feasts, and did all to make his residence in his Court

agreeable. The Princess accompanied them everywhere, and helped not a

little to render these short journeys pleasing and satisfactory. She

watched with great care for the convenience of her future husband, and

sought to fulfil even his smallest wish before he had spoken it; so

that Jussuf was often astonished, and said to himself, "She must read

my thoughts before they arise." He felt that he was happy in

everything except in her having a black complexion. One day they all

went together to a beautiful neighbouring hunting-seat, in the

environs of which a grand hunt was held. The Princess Haschanascha

took part in it. She rode on a tame elephant, over whose back was

thrown a cloth embroidered with gold. On the middle of its back a

couch was skilfully fastened, and over this a canopy was raised on

four slender pillars of gold. Jussuf remained generally near her

during the hunt. He rode on a beautiful horse of the most noble race,

which the King had sent him from his stable. Whenever he saw a curious

bird or a wild beast, he aimed so well that the animal always fell

pierced by his arrow. In the evening when they returned to the palace

from the wood, Jussuf wished to remain there some days away from the

bustle of the Court, and the King granted this wish. He left behind

some servants to wait on him, and returned with his daughter to the

capital.

At parting, Haschanascha appeared very sad, and Jussuf perceived tears

in her eyes.

"I know," said she, "this stay will be unfortunate for me; you will

forget me: even the talisman of your teacher Modibjah will fall into

other hands, and on it depends my life. Might it be that this

body--this hateful black veil of Haschanascha--should fall to pieces

if it might conduce to your happiness. You will soon awake from a

bright dream to longer and more bitter sorrows."

Jussuf consoled her, and represented that she troubled herself with

useless fears. He took an affectionate farewell of her, and saw the

procession depart not without emotion: he would willingly have

accompanied her, but an irresistible feeling held him back. He went,

as he was now quite alone, into the garden, which was adorned with

curious flowers.

"Why was it," said he anxiously to himself, "that Haschanascha was

to-day so mournful at parting? She is so prudent, and with her clear

eyes foresees the events of life. Why can she fear that I should ever

allow Modibjah's talisman to get into a stranger's hands when I always

wear it?" With these words he pulled the little bag out, and said,

"No, I will never separate from you unless you are taken by force. But

can robbers be sheltered in this land?"

Whilst he asked himself these questions, he thought that it would be

better not to carry it in his bosom, where it might easily be found if

he were searched. He therefore wrapped it up carefully in the folds of

his turban, and believed it to be quite safe.

Night had spread its veil over the garden, and he returned to the

palace. Wonderful dreams disturbed his sleep, and their impressions

accompanied him when he went into the garden the next morning. He had

dreamt a great deal about red poppy-flowers, and now he saw them

before him in the garden-beds. He found some alone in a bed, and while

he watched them he again saw in fancy the same butterfly that he had

before seen in his own garden upon similar flowers, and the memory of

the circumstances Of the last time were deeply graven in his soul.

Then he again dwelt upon the maiden to seek whom he had made this

journey. Thus, amid these reflections, he took hold of the wooden box

which he had received from the dervish in the subterraneous chambers

in the ruined city near Shiraz.

"Without thee," said he, "could I never have obtained the object of my

desires? And of what use have you been to me till to-day? You ought to

lead me straight to my mark, and I should always be in the right way

as long as I did not open the box with the golden key. You indeed have

led me through dangers and misery, and at the end to a betrothal with

a maiden as different from the one I sought as day from night. And

shall I open you only when I have lost all hope to attain my desire?

Well, let us see what it contains."

With these words he pulled out the golden key and unlocked the box;

but he let it fall to the earth with a joyous cry, for scarcely had he

opened it when the curious butterfly flew out, hovered in the sunshine

over the flowers, and soon settled on one of the poppies. He quickly

snatched off his turban, and covered with it the butterfly and the

flowers. When he raised it, a figure was underneath, and before him

stood his pleasant playfellow.

"Are you truly she? Do I really see you at last?" he cried,

astonished.

"I am truly she," she answered. "Have you quite forgotten me, that you

have allowed so long a time to elapse without asking after me? But

what have you done with your turban? Let us see."

She took it from his head, sought in the folds, and pulled out the

little bag with the talisman.

"Oh, oh!" cried she, returning his turban, "do you carry such things

about with you? You will not want it any more: I will keep it." And

she sprang forward.

He ran after her and caught her, begging her to return his pouch,

explaining that it contained a talisman which had hitherto preserved

him from every danger.

"Well," said she, when he paused, "and the only error is, that you

have met with me again to-day."

She assured him that she would never return the talisman, and began

many games with him as they had done in the garden at Balsora. At

dinner-time he asked her to go into the palace to take some

refreshment. She looked at him with a scornful laugh, and said, "I? Go

under a roof--sit to table with you to partake of meats prepared from

the flesh of animals and the flour of wheat? What can you mean? Do you

not recollect the fig that we ate together? It still nourishes me; but

I know that you need more."

She went to a neighbouring bush, plucked a white blossom, and offered

it to him. "There, drink honey," said she.

When he took the flower, it changed into a silver-gilt goblet filled

with delicious drink. He drank, and felt himself quite refreshed,

strengthened, and satisfied. They again played many childish games

together, and the maiden always invented new pastimes. The day passed

by, and Jussuf did not perceive how the hours flew away: the sun was

just sinking; then his playfellow sprang over a neighbouring bush, and

cried, "Good night."

As she passed over the flowers of the bush, she disappeared from

Jussuf's eyes, and he saw only the butterfly flying. When he returned

to the palace, his servants were much rejoiced. They had waited for

him since noon, and had searched for him in the gardens, as an embassy

had been sent from the capital to bring him news that the Princess had

suddenly fallen ill. He caused the messengers to be brought before

him, to learn from them all the attendant circumstances. He

discovered from them that she had retired to rest early the preceding

evening, and had risen quite well in the morning after a peaceful

slumber; but hardly had the sun shone half an hour, when she fell, and

was obliged to be carried to her apartments. She soon came to herself,

but felt very weak, and informed her sorrowing father that she must

die. Jussuf was very thoughtful, for he remembered her warning about

the talisman, and also recollected that it was exactly the same hour

in which the maiden had taken it from the folds of his turban. He

resolved early the next morning to desire the talisman from her

earnestly, and then to hasten to the city; and commanded the embassy

to return at sunrise the next day, to announce his arrival in the

evening. In the loneliness of night he felt angry with himself. But

the loss of the talisman, which exceedingly disquieted him, was not

the only reason: it was a mortifying feeling to him that he had passed

the whole day in childish sports, according to the caprice of his

playfellow. He thought over all the words they had spoken, and found

nothing in them but excessive frivolity.

He arose the next morning by daybreak, and at sunrise he again stood

in the garden. Scarcely had the sun's rays dried the dew, when the

beautiful butterfly hovered over the beds. Once more it settled on a

poppy. Jussuf covered it with his turban--the change was again

completed--the maiden once more stood before him. He immediately

demanded of her the little bag with the talisman.

She mocked him with a mischievous laugh, and said, "You shall not have

it to-day: perhaps to-morrow, if you are polite."

Then they again began their sports, and Jussuf soon forgot in their

amusements everything else, and played and sported with her. She gave

him, in the same manner as yesterday, honey to drink from a flower,

after she had sipped a little herself, and knew how to draw him round

the gardens in her sports, so that nobody met them. On this day also

his servants sought him in the garden, and could not find him; another

messenger had arrived from the city, wishing to speak to him in great

haste.

He did not return to the palace till she had flown away as a

butterfly. The messenger informed him that the Princess still

remained very unwell, and that her weakness had materially increased

when he did not arrive as he had promised. She had not said anything

about this delay; but the King was very unhappy, and requested that he

would come to the city the next day. He promised it, ordered the

messenger to return at daybreak, and went into his sleeping-apartment.

There he again reproached himself as on the previous day, and resolved

to set out on the morrow, as soon as his playmate should return the

talisman. When he met her the next day in the garden, he immediately

asked for it.

"How now, Jussuf?" said she. "What a tone! Is this the way to greet

your frolicking playmate? Is it worth while to make such a fuss about

a miserable fragment of stone?" She bowed to him, laughing, and ran

off.

Jussuf followed, and when he got near her, cried, "It concerns the

life of the Princess."

Then she stopped, and asked, "Is this the reason of your earnestness?

The Princess? The black negress? What binds you to her? Do you

consider her as a creature like yourself? And, even if it were so,

what can such a tiresome serious person be to you? Have you ever

played with her an hour so merrily as we have played the whole day?

And, believe me, my stock is not yet nearly exhausted. I have

novelties every day."

She again began a game, and, before Jussuf could recollect himself, he

had deeply entered into it; and he had soon forgotten the messenger,

his intentions, and his resolutions. He played with her till evening,

and returned to the palace when she had disappeared as usual. He had

been sought for as on the former days, but in vain. A fresh messenger

had brought still worse tidings of Haschanascha's health, and he made

the bitterest reproaches to himself for his neglect. He ordered his

horse to be saddled, and, as it was a moonlight night, he returned to

the city with the messenger. At his arrival, he saw the windows of the

apartment inhabited by his betrothed still illuminated. He immediately

went in and inquired after her health: people shrugged their

shoulders, and he hastened to go in to her. She lay, breathing

faintly, on her pillow, and beckoned to him to draw near: she then

motioned to the servants, who left the apartment. He threw himself on

his knees by the couch and wept, mourned her affliction, and regretted

that he had not paid more attention to her warnings.

"I know how it has happened," she said; "still, the worst has not

happened. You have been forced to leave the talisman in her hands:

take care that she does not keep it with your consent. I am now weak

and ill: I shall become still weaker; but so long as you possess the

earnest wish to recover the talisman, my life will be preserved.

Return, now, whence you came, and let not the King see you. He is

angry with you because he is sure you are the cause of my illness."

He obeyed her will, and returned to the hunting-seat by daybreak. He

would not lose the vivid recollection of Haschanascha's mournful

condition by going to sleep; but went immediately into the garden, and

when the sun had sufficient influence to dry the dew on the flowers,

he again saw the butterfly settle on a poppy. This time he kept his

turban on his head, and tried to catch the butterfly with his hand;

but it eluded him, and a wasp within the same flower stung his hand,

so that it swelled very much. The butterfly flew away, and did not

return to the garden. The hours passed very slowly, and would have

seemed longer if his mind had not been agitated by various plans to

recover the talisman. To do this, he must find its present possessor,

and he reproached himself with having allowed the butterfly to escape

by his awkwardness. At noon he returned to the palace, to the great

astonishment of his servants, who were now accustomed not to see him

all day. When he had eaten, he reposed a few hours on his couch, and,

on his awaking, a messenger had come from the city with the news that

the Princess was better since the morning. Thus the day concluded with

more inward peace than heretofore: only one fear made him sad, that

perhaps the butterfly had disappeared for ever from the garden, and

then he could never recover his talisman.

But the next morning, when he went into the garden, he found the

butterfly perched on a poppy in the sunshine. He threw his turban over

it, and again the maiden stood before him. He asked her why she had

not come the previous day, and she answered,

"Oh, there was a clumsy peasant in the garden who tried to catch me in

his hand, like an ugly fly! He would have rubbed the beautiful dust

off my wings; and then, what would have become of my beauty? I could

not allow it, for my clothing is beautiful." She laughed so

maliciously, that he well knew who she meant by the clumsy peasant.

Before he could reply, she had engaged him in a new game, and then in

another, and so on, that he could find no opportunity to demand the

talisman. Even so passed the next and some following days. Messengers

arrived daily from the city to bring news of the Princess's health.

But these news were not comforting: the invalid grew worse from day to

day, and the whole company of physicians knew no name for the disease,

nor could they apply a remedy. If the priests were to be believed,

this long and extraordinary sickness was a consequence of killing the

sacred snake, and a punishment from heaven. Scarcely had this

conclusion reached the King's ear, than it found credence in his weak

mind. He caused the still imprisoned high priest to be called before

him, and he advised that the priests should be immediately set at

liberty, and reinstated in their former rank. It was proclaimed

through the city that sacrifices and gifts should be offered, and that

all the people were to return to the worship of the snake. The priests

gave it out that they had found a similar snake, and Jussuf was again

destined for the principal sacrifice, as the Princess lay so near

death that she scarcely breathed or gave any sign of life. Jussuf had,

in the meanwhile, passed many days in play; and, although he daily

received tidings of the Princess, he was ignorant of everything else

that passed in the capital. On one of the last days, he proposed to

his playfellow that she should be his wife, and go home with him.

But she laughed, and said, "Are you not already betrothed to

Haschanascha? Did you think I did not know it? I also know that you

have dared this with many women. You have turned your house into a

seraglio, as birds are kept in a cage. How hateful must such a life

be! Shall I allow myself to be bound for life by the speaking of a

hoary imam? Heaven forbid it!" She began to jump and dance before

Jussuf, while she sang:

[Illustration]

"A happy life, a roving wing,

A sprightly dance, a voice to sing,

To sport 'mid flowers and crowns of spring,

Such, such be the life for me.

No care to-day, no toil the morrow,

Ever sunshine, never sorrow:

I sip and quaff the honied wine

With my rosy lips divine.

Fearless I stray, whate'er my will,

Seeking pleasure, pleasure still.

Such, such be the life for me:

Who aims at more, a fool is he."

When she had finished her song, she bowed before Jussuf in a mocking

mood, and said,

"How does that please you, Jussuf? Why, you are making a face as if

you had drunk poison. What thoughts are now passing through your

head?"

"I am thinking of the talisman," answered Jussuf. "Give it me to-day.

Haschanascha lies at the point of death."

"What of that?" asked she, jestingly: "if there be one such black

creature more or less in the world, what consequence is it to you?

Come, will you give me your talisman? It has served you well. Be

polite for once, and say that you give it me."

She approached him, patted his cheek with her left hand, and holding

out the talisman with her right, said smiling,

"Does it belong to me? Is it not true that you have given it me?"

Jussuf's first impulse was to say Yes; but when he looked into her

eyes, and, instead of human eyes, saw a great number of butterflies'

eyes, horror came over him. He snatched away the talisman, and threw

it quickly over his head, calling on Haschanascha's name.

At this moment Haschanascha's elephant appeared exactly as he had seen

it at the hunt. A brown slave, with a head-dress of beautiful feathers

and variegated jewels, acted as leader, with a short staff in his

hand. A maiden holding a drawn bow knelt on the elephant, and before

Jussuf perceived it, the arrow flew from the bow, and his playfellow

lay in his arms, pierced through with the arrow. Fright and

astonishment took possession of him. Before he recovered himself, the

elephant, with its guide, had disappeared, and also the deadly-struck

maiden lay no longer in his arms. He looked on the ground to find

traces of her blood, which he had seen gush out. There lay the

beautiful butterfly, transfixed with a needle shaped like an arrow, as

men keep such insects in a collection. He took it from the ground, and

perceived again the wooden box and golden key which he had formerly

opened and dropped. In doubt whether he were awake or asleep, he shut

the butterfly fast up in the box, and was going thoughtfully away.

Then the faithful slave came running to him, quite breathless, and

cried,

"Flee quickly through the garden! The servants of the priests have

already arrived in the palace-yard, and ask for you: you are again

destined for a sacrifice."

He asked after the Princess.

"She must be dead," answered the slave, and pressed him, half with

prayers and entreaties, and half with force, to take flight.

Jussuf hastened through the garden into the wood which joined it, and

ran like a startled roe urged forward by terror and dread of its

pursuers. The wood covered his flight. He came to the river below the

capital, and found a ship about to go down the stream. The man who

guided it yielded to his earnest request, took him in, and immediately

set sail. At the approach of night, Jussuf thought they would have

landed; but the man informed him, to his great joy, that the moon

would shine clearly, and favour their voyage. They let the ship float

down, and only guided it with a rudder now and then, when they saw a

rock or a dangerous place stand out of the water.

At midnight Jussuf made the man understand that he would guide the

rudder. He gave it up readily, and lay down to sleep. He sat alone in

the stillness of night at the helm, and thought over the events of the

last few days. All passed distinctly before his mind. He remembered

Haschanascha's sorrow at his resolution to remain alone at the

hunting-seat; her warning about the talisman; her illness when he no

longer possessed it; her life withering away, and her death. Then he

thought of the sorrow of her foster-father the King, and how he had

again fallen under the dominion of the crafty and deceitful

snake-priests. Also the image of his playful companion rose before

him, and the merry childish sports in which they had both joined, and

in which he had always forgotten all the care and sorrow of

Haschanascha.

He saw her, again, pierced by the arrow, sinking in his arms. He also

remembered Haschanascha's appearance as she knelt on the elephant, and

shot the deadly arrow at his companion. Could this only have been a

shade of the dead one? or was it she herself? No; she herself was

dead: the faithful slave had assured him so. All these reflections

brought no peace to his soul. Involuntarily Haschanascha's superiority

to his playfellow rose before him, and he felt with surprise that at

these thoughts his cheeks were wet with tears.

On the morrow they came near a city: he wished to recompense the

seaman, who had now reached his destination. Whilst he sought for a

piece of gold out of his purse, he remembered that he had left the box

of diamonds with the rest of his goods in the palace in his hasty

flight. The seaman would take nothing, but assured him that by having

taken charge of the vessel during the night he had quite earned his

passage-money.

Jussuf parted from him with many thanks. In the city he sold his

costly clothes, which he had bought new in the city of the

snake-worshippers, clothed himself in the mean dress of a dervish,

had his eyebrows scraped off, and set off on foot along the course of

the river. After a tedious wandering of some weeks, he happily reached

the place where, in his former journey, he had observed the river flow

by a city into the sea. He met there many who spoke his language, and

from them he learned that a ship lay in the harbour, which was to sail

the next day to Balsora. He immediately resolved to embark in it, and

return home.

The captain was very ready to take him, and when he asked about the

passage-money, he answered, "What! you want to pay passage-money? What

would my master say if I took anything from a poor devil like you? No,

no, the rich merchant Jussuf of Balsora, who has twenty such ships on

the sea, takes no passage-money from a poor dervish."

"How!" asked Jussuf, "does the merchant Jussuf still live?"

Then the captain laughed heartily, and said, "Indeed he lives. He is

now, certainly, on a distant journey, but his business still prospers.

Look at this proof. This box of diamonds is a treasure than which no

Sultan has any more precious in his treasury, and this has been given

me to-day by one of his servants to convey to Balsora."

Jussuf saw with astonishment the box which he had left behind in his

flight from the hunting-seat. He did not wish to be recognized in his

poor condition, and feared to be taken for an impostor if he claimed

the treasure. But he could not understand how the box could come into

the captain's hands. He therefore turned to him, and said,

"Forgive me, sir, my curiosity, and tell me if you knew Jussuf's

servant who brought the box?"

But the captain answered angrily, "Listen. I have certainly mistaken

you, as I thought you were a dervish; therefore I am displeased that

you speak so disrespectfully of the mighty merchant Jussuf, talking of

him as if he were your equal. When you next pronounce his name, give

him the honour due to him, and forget not the 'lord.' But as you asked

if I knew the servant, know that I had never seen him before; but I

did not doubt, when he gave it me in my lord's name. If he had given

me only the ten thousandth part in worth in his lord's name, there

would have been cause to doubt."

The next day a favourable south wind blew; they weighed anchor, and

the ship, under press of sail, left the harbour for the open sea.

The voyage was prosperous. No cloud overcast the heavens, the wind

continued favourable, and, in the shortest possible time, they landed

in the Port of Balsora. There lay many new ships at anchor, ready

prepared, and laden with various wares.

"See," said the active captain to Jussuf, in saying farewell; "these

new ships belong also to the same Lord Jussuf. Do not forget when you

go into the city to see his palace, and also his warehouse in the

bazaar."

Jussuf promised not to forget it; and, on his entrance into the city,

went straight to the bazaar. He passed through the row where his

warehouse used to stand, and was astonished to see a much larger one

in its place, adorned on the outside with precious metals and costly

stones; but in the interior was contained riches and a great heap of

jewels, such as he had seen in the subterranean chambers of the ruins

near Shiraz.

He pushed through the crowd, and saw that six young men were

unceasingly occupied in selling. He pressed forward, and stood

immediately before one of the traders.

"To whom does this warehouse belong?" asked he, when no buyer seemed

ready to occupy him.

"You must only have arrived here to-day, if you do not know that there

is only one merchant in Balsora who can display such riches. You must

have heard the name of the merchant Jussuf, the king of merchants!"

"Oh, yes! I have certainly heard that name," answered Jussuf; "but I

thought that he had shut up his warehouse, and gone on a far journey."

"That is very true," replied the young man; "but a few weeks ago he

sent his brother, Hassan Assad, who carries on the commerce, and has

taken account of the treasures which he sends here from his journeys.

This business is much increased; it is well seen that my Lord Jussuf

does not leave his affairs in strange hands without good reason."

"You named his brother, and I have heard that your lord had no

brother. What do you, then, mean?" asked Jussuf.

"Hassan Assad is not his brother, but his wife's brother," was the

answer.

"His wife?" asked Jussuf, with unfeigned astonishment.

"I know not how it seems to you," said the young man. "What is there

so much to be wondered at, and to stand with open mouth? Why should

not my Lord Jussuf have a wife? for he might have them by the dozen.

If all this interests you so much, go to his palace: there are idle

people enough there that can satisfy your curiosity. I have no time:

some buyers are waiting whom I have neglected by my conversation with

you."

He turned to the customers, apologized for his inattention, and

demanded their wishes.

Jussuf resolved to follow his advice and go to the palace. He no

longer recognized it: two small palaces which stood on each side had

been thrown down, and, in their places, two wings had been added to

his own. The principal door of the middle palace stood open, and many

male and female servants went in and out. He asked one of the porters

to whom the palace belonged, and received the same answer as at the

bazaar.

"But will your lord ever come again?" he asked. "He has been gone a

long while; no man knows where he is, and he has sent no messengers

back."

"What! sent no messenger?" cried both porters in a breath; "he has

sent his wife here a long time since, and has himself arrived to-day.

His brother Hassan Assad has always had sure news of him, and so he

knew of his arrival to-day, and has prepared everything for his

reception. His old teacher, who had not before been seen for years,

has come forth to-day from his solitude, and arrived here."

"What! Modibjah also here?" he asked.

"See, see!" answered both, "you know his name better than we. Yes,

yes, his name is Modibjah: I could not recollect."

"Let me go in, good people," said he, "that I may speak to him."

"No, no," said one of them, obstructing the way; "what business have

you in? The marriage ceremony is about to be performed in the hall,

after the manner of our religion; the imam is just now gone in;

therefore no strangers can be admitted."

"What!" cried Jussuf, "your lord already arrived? Where is the

impostor? Let me in, that I may confront him."

Both porters opposed him, because he tried to force his way in.

"Do you not know your lord," asked Jussuf, full of indignation, "that

you thus oppose him?"

They assured him that they had not been long in Assad's service, and

did not know Jussuf; but they had been told that he was arrived.

"Yes," cried Jussuf, "he is arrived, but not yet in his palace; he

will soon be in."

With these words he pushed the nearest on one side, threw him to the

ground, and then the other also. He pressed forward quickly into the

splendid hall, unopposed by the numerous servants, to whom he seemed

to come from the passage into the hall. He placed himself in the

midst, and cried with great earnestness,

"Who dares here to usurp Jussuf's place? Who dares here to pass for

Jussuf's wife? I am Jussuf, who was thought lost! Where is the

impostor? Let him come here, that he may receive the just reward of

his treachery."

Whilst he spoke a richly-dressed man, but unknown to him, approached,

and said,

"You speak of deceit! Nobody here passes for Jussuf but yourself. We

expected him, because we have sure knowledge that he has landed

to-day. You may be the expected one. Now for the proof: what word will

your lips breathe on this talisman?" He held to him Modibjah's

talisman. Jussuf looked astonished and surprised, for the spark had

disappeared.

"Haschanascha!" he cried, with a sigh. The spark shone out clear, and

a veiled lady walked forth from the circle of numerous assembled

guests, and asked, as she threw her veil back, "Do you remember

Haschanascha, your betrothed?" But he looked at her with marks of

astonished joy. There were indeed the beautiful features of her face,

the mild look of her soft eyes, the happy seriousness that reigned in

Haschanascha's forehead; but her dark complexion had disappeared, and

in its place played a soft blush, like the first breath of dawn, on

her cheeks.

"Haschanascha!" cried he, at last awaking from his astonishment, "are

you indeed she? I can no longer trust my senses, since I have been

lost in so many adventures and dreams, that I cannot distinguish

between reality and dreaming. Is it possible that you live? You were

dead through my guilt."

"Ask not after what is past," said Modibjah's voice. "The King of the

Genii has selected you to be his favourite on earth. Two daughters of

genii were destined to try to lead you different ways; human nature

nearly conquered, but you came out at last victorious from the fight.

You have chosen the nobler. May she adorn your life with greater joy,

as she helped you to conquer your selfishness, which bound you in

weakness to the form you carried in the box! This is Haschanascha, the

sister of your friend Hassan Assad, who has carried on your business

since you separated from him near Shiraz. I am uncle to both; and that

your wife may not enter your house as a beggar, here are the presents

destined for the wedding present, which you saw under the ruins of the

destroyed capital."

With these words he embraced Jussuf, who was again lost in

astonishment. The young man who had offered him the talisman stepped

forward, and Jussuf recognized in him his friend Hassan, and saluting

him with heartfelt joy, called him his dear brother. In the same hour

the imam pronounced over Jussuf and Haschanascha the blessing, and

performed the usual prayers and ceremonies. Then were splendid feasts

prepared that lasted many days, and such as never at any other time

were celebrated in Balsora; so that in after years people spoke of the

splendour with which the rich merchant Jussuf's wedding had been

consummated. He attained with Haschanascha a great and very happy old

age, and his latest descendants revere his memory.

The Seven Sleepers.

[Illustration]

[The "Seven Sleepers" is a Mahommedan as well as Christian legend. It

is alluded to in the Koran: and many of the circumstances of the

following Tale are related in the notes to Sale's translation of it.]

Historians relate that there was in ancient Persia a shepherd named

Dakianos, who for thirty years had attended his sheep without having

ever neglected the holy custom of making his daily prayers. All those

who knew him did justice to his probity; and nature had endowed him

with an eloquence capable of raising him to the highest employments,

had he lived in the great world.

One day, as he was at his usual prayers, his flock took fright and

were dispersed. Dakianos ran every way to reassemble them, and

perceiving that one of his sheep had got half of its body into the

hole of a rock, where it could not get out, he ran to it and delivered

it; but he was struck with a dazzling light which immediately shone

out of the opening. He examined what it was that produced it, and soon

found that it proceeded from a tablet or plate of gold, of no very

large extent: he opened the hole still farther, and found himself in

a vault, which was not above seven feet high, and about four or five

broad. He considered this tablet of gold with much attention, but

could not read it, neither could he comprehend what the four lines

signified which he saw written thereon. To inform himself, therefore,

of this mystery, he took it away with him, and, as soon as it was

night, he put it under his vest and repaired to the city. His first

care was to show it to those who, as he was informed, were the most

learned men; but, however versed they might be in the sciences, there

was not one of them who could explain this inscription.

However, one of the doctors said to him, "No person here can translate

these characters. Go into Egypt: you will find there a venerable man,

of three hundred years of age, who can read the most ancient writings,

and who knows all the sciences; he alone can satisfy your curiosity."

Dakianos delivered his flock to the person to whom it belonged, and

departed immediately for Egypt.

As soon as he arrived there, he inquired after the old man, who was so

celebrated that everybody was ready to show him his house. He went to

him there, told him the occasion of his journey, and presented to him

the tablet of gold. The old man received it with affability, and was

struck with astonishment at the sight of this wonder. He read the

characters with the greatest ease; but, after having reflected some

time, he cast his eyes upon Dakianos, and said to him,

"How did this tablet fall into your hands?"

Dakianos gave him an account of his adventure.

"These characters," resumed the old man, "promise to the person who

shall find them, events which it is not likely can happen to you. You

have," continued he, "a happy countenance, and this inscription speaks

of an infidel, whose end must be fatal and tragical. But since fortune

has given you this tablet, that which is written upon it doubtless

regards you."

Dakianos, surprised with this discourse, answered, "How can it be as

you say? I have said my prayers every day these thirty years. I have

never been an infidel; how can I then be a reprobate?"

"If it had been three hundred years," replied the old man, "you will

be no less the victim of darkness."

These last words pierced the heart of Dakianos. He groaned, he sighed,

he even wept, and he cried out, "Would that I had never found this

golden tablet! That I had never shown it you and that I had never

heard so terrible a sentence!"

"What use would it have been to you not to have brought it to me?"

said this learned man. "The predestination of Allah is from all

eternity; what is written in the Book of Life cannot be effaced. But I

may be mistaken: the knowledge of men is often doubtful, Allah alone

is infallible. I can, however, inform you that this golden tablet

indicates a most considerable treasure, and that an those riches

belong to him who shall be the possessor of the tablet."

This word _riches_ consoled Dakianos, and in the transport of his soul

he said to the old man, "Delay not a moment; let us go to seek the

treasure. We will share it like two brothers."

But the old man said to him, sighing, "You will no sooner be the

master of all these riches than you will abuse them. It is not an easy

talent to know how to be rich; and I shall perhaps be the first to

repent having done you this service."

"What a discourse you hold to me!" cried Dakianos. "What shall I owe

the obligation to you of procuring me such treasures, shall you make

my fortune, and do you think I shall be failing in my return? An

infidel would not be guilty of such ingratitude, and I cannot so much

as harbour a thought of it. I swear, then, to look upon you as my

father, and to share equally all the riches with you; or, rather, you

shall give me what share you please, and I shall always be content."

These protestations would not much have reassured the old man, but

avarice--the only passion which is felt at a certain age--overcame his

reflections, and he consented to their departure. They arrived at the

place where Dakianos had found the tablet of gold. The old man

commanded him to dig the ground about twenty feet round. They soon

discovered a gate of steel, and the old man told Dakianos to open it.

Dakianos obeyed with such eager haste that he broke the door open with

his foot, though the key was in the lock. They both of them entered

into a vault, without being discouraged by the great obscurity which

reigned there. After having gone some steps, a faint light enabled

them to distinguish objects. The farther they advanced, the more the

light increased. They found themselves at last before a large and

magnificent palace, the seven gates of which were closed, but the keys

were fastened by them. Dakianos took that of the first gate, and

opened it.

The first apartment enclosed ornaments and habits of the greatest

magnificence, and above all, girdles of solid gold, adorned with

jewels. They opened the second, which they found filled with sabres,

the hilts and sheaths of which were covered with the most precious

stones. The third was adorned with an infinite number of cuirasses,

coats of mail, and helmets of gold of different fashions, and all the

arms were enriched with the most magnificent jewels. The fourth

enclosed the most superb horse furniture, answerable to the

magnificence of the arms. The fifth offered to their sight piles of

gold and silver ingots. The sixth was full of gold coin; and it was

scarcely possible to enter into the seventh, it was so heaped with

sapphires, with amethysts, and diamonds.

These immense treasures dazzled Dakianos. From that moment he was

sorry that he had a witness of his good fortune.

"Do you consider," said he to the old man, "of what consequence

secrecy will be upon this occasion?"

"Doubtless," replied he.

"But," resumed Dakianos, "if the King has the least knowledge of this

treasure, his first act will be to confiscate it. Are you sure of

yourself? Do you fear nothing from your own indiscretion?"

"The desire of possessing the half of those riches," replied the old

man, "ought to be a pledge that will satisfy you."

"The half of these riches!" interrupted Dakianos, with an alteration

visible in his countenance, "but that half surpasses the treasures of

the greatest kings."

The old man perceived this alteration, and said to him, "If you think

the half too much for me, you may give me only a quarter of it."

"Most willingly," returned Dakianos. "But what precaution will you

take to remove them with safety? You will cause us to be discovered,

and be the occasion of our ruin."

"Well, then," replied the old man, "though you have promised me much

more, give me only one of the apartments--I shall be fully satisfied.

You do not answer my question."

"We will examine at leisure what you have proposed to me," returned

Dakianos. "I am glad, however, that you are more reasonable, and that

you begin to understand yourself."

Dakianos again examined these riches with more avidity, and his eyes

were still further dazzled by them. After having thoroughly considered

the magnificent apartment of the diamonds, in which they then were,

"You are sensible," said he to the old man, "that this is, without

contradiction, the most valuable, and that it is not natural I should

yield up to you the lawful right I have over it?"

"You have reason for what you say," returned the old man, "and I do

not demand it of you."

They passed afterwards into the apartment which was filled with gold

coin.

"This treasure," said Dakianos, after having looked upon it for some

time, "is certainly what would cause the least trouble, and be the

most easily disposed of; it may be useful also towards preserving all

the rest, either by establishing a guard or raising walls; therefore I

believe you too reasonable," continued he, "not to agree to the

necessity that obliges me to keep it."

"I agree to it," replied the old man; "let us pass on to another.

These piles of ingots of silver and gold are not all necessary to

you," said he, as he viewed the fifth apartment.

"No," returned Dakianos, "I might possibly do without some of these;

but I have too great obligations to you, to expose you, by giving them

to you: how could you convey them away? What a trouble it would be to

you to dispose of them!"

"That will be my business," replied the old man.

"No, no," added Dakianos, "I love you too well to consent to it;

besides, it would be the means to have me discovered; you would be

arrested, and you could not prevent yourself from accusing me. Let us

see the others."

They opened the fourth apartment. "This horse-furniture is absolutely

unsuitable to you; your age is an obstacle to the use of it."

He made use of the same difficulty to refuse him the cuirasses and the

armour which filled the third. When he had locked that up with the

same care as the rest, they found themselves in that which contained

the sabres; and the old man said to him, "These arms are easy to

carry, I will go and offer them to the Kings of the Indies; I will

sell them separately, and you will run no risk."

"You are right," returned Dakianos, "I may give you some of these."

As he said these words he examined them, both the weight of the gold

and the value of the diamonds. At length he drew one of them out of

the scabbard; then he compared all the riches of which he might be the

sole possessor, with the head of one man; and, unable to conceive how

he could have hesitated so long, "I distrust thee!" said he, springing

upon the old man.

The old man embraced his knees. "Be moved," said he to him, "with my

old age! The treasures no longer make any impression upon me, and I

pretend not to them."

"Truly I believe not," resumed Dakianos: "they are mine, the tablet of

gold gives them to me."

The old man recalled his promises to his memory. "But I will cancel

them," pursued he: "in return for the obligation you have to me I only

demand my life."

"I have offended thee too far," replied Dakianos: "thy life would be

my death, it would give me too much inquietude."

Then at one blow striking off the head of the old man, "Now," cried

he, "my secret is my own!"

The first care of Dakianos was immediately to make a grave and to

inter this unfortunate victim of his avarice. He feared not remorse,

though he dreaded a witness; his heart was wholly occupied with the

treasure that he possessed, and his mind with the methods of

preserving it. But after devouring it with his eyes, and enjoying that

cruel satisfaction, in what trouble did he not find himself when he

was obliged to leave it in order to seek for provision? How often did

he reproach himself with not having carried it with him? And if he

ever remembered the old man, it was only to accuse his memory, and to

persuade himself that he must have had some bad design, since he had

not advertised him of a thing which he might have foreseen without

being so learned as he really was. Not to die with hunger in this

subterranean vault, he was obliged to quit it. What succours could he

find in so barren a desert as that with which it was surrounded? He

was obliged, therefore, to go to a place at some distance; but how

could he resolve upon that, especially at a time when the ground

lately removed might attract the curiosity of a traveller? Dakianos

almost determined to let himself die rather than lose sight of his

treasure. All that he could do to calm his inquietudes was not to

depart till night, when he took some handfuls of the gold coin and

repaired to the city, where he bought a horse, which he loaded with

biscuit and with a small barrel of water, and returned before daybreak

to seek his treasure, which he found in the same condition he had left

it, with as much pleasure as he had felt chagrin at leaving it.

His first care was, with incredible fatigue, to make a very deep ditch

round the cavern. He contrived a passage to it underground, the

opening of which he covered with his clothes, that in a few days he

laid upon them, and afterwards raised a hut of earth to preserve

himself from the weather. All that he suffered during these immense

labours is not to be conceived, and no one could have imagined, who

had seen him thus wasted with labour and fatigue, that he was the

richest inhabitant of the earth.

When he had conducted his work so far as to be able to leave it

without fear, he repaired again to the city, but with the same

precaution--that is to say, he went only in the night. He employed it

wholly in purchasing some slaves, with whose assistance by degrees he

brought thither everything that was necessary for his safety and

convenience. Soon after, he gathered workmen, with whose aid he built

more solidly the works which he had begun. He surrounded the place

with three walls of stone, and lay always between the first and the

second. He took great care to spread abroad a report after this that

he carried on a large foreign commerce, and spoke much of the fortune

he had made in Egypt. Upon this pretext--for there must be one for

becoming so suddenly rich--he built a magnificent palace: that of the

thousand columns erected by Melik Jouna, the ancient King of the

Indies, was nothing in comparison to it. Such great magnificence soon

made him considered and respected by the world, and the pains he had

given himself to preserve his riches not only flattered his self-love,

but easily persuaded him that he had acquired them, and might enjoy

them without remorse, the old man being totally forgotten.

It was easy for him to bring out the treasures from his vault, the

secret of which was not trusted to any person. He sent caravans to all

parts of the Indies to authorize the expenses he bestowed in slaves,

in building, in women, and in horses, and fortune also favoured a

commerce which was of little consequence to him. His heart, fully

satisfied as to riches, was not long insensible to ambition. The Court

has strong attractions for the rich; they are received so graciously,

they are praised in so delicate and so insinuating a manner, that they

are generally seduced by it. And Dakianos, who now joined to his

opulence an immeasurable ambition, neglected nothing to introduce

himself at the Court of the King of Persia; but made presents to the

viziers to obtain their protection, and, by gaining it, rendered

himself their slave. His magnificence and his generosity, as he

foresaw and wished, soon reached the ears of the King, who desired to

see him.

Dakianos had an audience as soon as he appeared at Court, and to give

a favourable impression of himself, and to deserve the favour of the

King, he brought him presents which the greatest Kings upon earth

could not, perhaps, have collected together. It is generally by nines

that Eastern presents are given, when their magnificence is extended

to the last degree. He therefore caused himself to be preceded by nine

superb camels. The first was loaded with nine suits and ornaments of

gold, adorned with the most beautiful jewels, of which the girdles

were of the greatest lustre. The second bore nine sabres, the hilts

and scabbards of which were of gold adorned with diamonds. Upon the

third were seen nine suits of armour of equal magnificence. The fourth

had for its load nine suits of horse furniture, suitable to the other

presents. Nine cases full of sapphires were upon the fifth. Nine other

cases heaped with rubies loaded the sixth. The same weight of emeralds

was upon the seventh. The amethysts, in an equal number of cases, was

the load of the eighth. At last, there appeared upon the ninth camel

nine cases of diamonds. Nine young women of the greatest beauty, and

magnificently adorned, followed this caravan; and eight young slaves

immediately preceded Dakianos.

In the midst of the surprise which these presents gave to the King and

the whole Court, some of those who composed it, and who, according to

the customs of that place, endeavoured to criticise upon it, and who

wished to contradict those who applauded it, or to show the justness

of their own remarks, demanded where was the ninth slave. Dakianos,

who expected the question, pointed to himself. The King, pleased with

the turn of delicacy, which he joined to such magnificent presents,

received him with extreme distinction; and, his natural eloquence

increasing his favour, it was impossible for the Prince to be without

him. He seated Dakianos by himself, gave him the pleasure of his

music, sent him every day dishes from the royal table, and very often

the most exquisite wines; during which, on the other side, Dakianos

returned all this bounty by presents, the quantity of which was as

surprising as their magnificence. At length his continued liberality

and his eloquence procured him so great a power over the heart of the

King, that he created him his Vizier, that they might never part; yet

the confidence and the friendship he testified to him gave him still

more power than the charge with which he was provided.

Dakianos governed Persia with an absolute sway: he ought to have

enjoyed a happiness which might satisfy his vanity. But can ambition

ever be satisfied? The mountain of Kaf may set bounds to the world,

but never to the ideas and wishes of the ambitious. The King being

informed of the arrival of an ambassador from Greece, gave him

audience immediately. The ambassador, after having kissed the foot of

the throne, delivered him a letter, which he caused his secretary to

read aloud, it was conceived in these terms:

"I, Emperor and Sultan of seven climates, to you, King of Persia. As

soon as my royal letter shall be delivered to you, fail not to send to

me the tribute of seven years. If you make any difficulty to satisfy

me, know that I have an army in readiness to march against you."

This letter caused so much astonishment in the King, that he knew not

what answer to make to it. Dakianos, to deliver the King from the

perplexity he was in, rose from his place, touched the ground with his

head, and endeavoured to restore his spirits.

"The letter of the Emperor of Greece," said he, "ought not to afflict

you: it is easy to answer it, and to make him repent his menaces and

his insolence. Order your most faithful subjects to join with me, who

am the humblest of your slaves; I shall inform them what they have to

do."

These words consoled the King: he gave his orders in pursuance of

them, and Dakianos raised above a hundred thousand men for the King,

whilst on his side he assembled ten thousand more, whom he equipped at

his own expense. The King joined to this chosen troop two thousand of

the most valiant soldiers, whom he had always had near his own person,

and of whom he formed the guard of Dakianos, and declared him general

of this army of one hundred and twelve thousand men. The new general

took leave of the King, and put himself at the head of his troops,

which served as an escort to all his riches, which he took care to

convey along with him, and which ten thousand camels could scarce

carry. The King of Persia, who parted from his Vizier with regret,

accompanied him for three days, and quitted him with tears in his

eyes, giving him a thousand benedictions, and repeating to him a

thousand times that he was his strength, his support, and, what was

much more, the only friend of his heart. Dakianos chose out the most

warlike men in all the cities through which he passed, equipped them

at his own expense, and gave them whatever pay they demanded. The

report which was spread abroad of this magnificence drew together men

from all parts of the world, and his army was in a short time

increased to three hundred thousand soldiers.

The Emperor of Greece, upon the news he had of the Persian army,

immediately assembled his troops, and advanced to meet Dakianos with

seven hundred thousand men. As soon as he perceived the enemy, he

divided his army into two bodies, and gave the signal for battle. The

troops of Dakianos acted with so much valour, and their first onset

was so terrible, that the army of the Grecians had not time to recover

themselves, and they were almost as soon defeated as attacked.

Dakianos ordered the Grecian Emperor, whom he had taken prisoner, to

be beheaded, and without the least difficulty made himself master of

all his dominions, of which he caused himself to be acknowledged

sovereign. The first business of this new monarch was to write the

following letter to the King of Persia:

"I have defeated and overcome Caesar,[2] I have conquered his

dominions, I have mounted his throne, and have been acknowledged the

sovereign of his whole empire. As soon as this letter is delivered to

you, defer not a moment to send me the tribute due for seven years: if

you make the least difficulty to pay it me, you must submit to the

same fate as Caesar."

[Footnote 2: In the East they always give that name to the Emperors of

Greece.]

This letter, with great reason, provoked the King of Persia beyond all

the bounds of moderation. Without loss of time he assembled his

troops; but before he put himself at their head to march towards the

confines of Greece, he returned this answer to Dakianos:

"Can a man so despicable as thou art have possibly conquered Greece?

Thou hast betrayed me--I, who am thy King, and who am seated upon the

golden throne of my ancestors. Thou hast attacked me, notwithstanding

the gratitude and fidelity thou owest to me. I am upon my departure to

cause even the very memory of thee to perish, to restore Greece to her

former situation, and to deliver her to her lawful sovereign!"

This daring answer of the King of Persia threw Dakianos into the most

dreadful rage: he immediately formed a detachment of two hundred

thousand men from his army to advance and give battle to the King of

Persia. Those troops were not long without meeting him. The combat was

bloody and obstinate; but at length the King of Persia was defeated,

taken prisoner, and conducted to Dakianos.

When that Prince was in his presence, "Wretch!" said he to him, "how

canst thou bear my sight, thou most ungrateful of mankind?"

"I ungrateful?" replied Dakianos. "I have levied troops at my own

expense; I have spent the greater part of my immense treasures; I

have, therefore, bought this conquest. I have done more: I have

fought; I have revenged thy quarrel. What canst thou reproach me

with?"

"I have loved thee," returned the King.

It is hard for those in power to bear a well-founded reproach. The

only answer of Dakianos was to command his head to be struck off, and

immediately to send troops to seize on his dominions. He chose Ephesus

to fix his residence in; but, not thinking that city magnificent

enough, he caused it to be rebuilt with the utmost elegance, and gave

all his care to the erecting of a palace, which was unparalleled for

its solidity, its extent, and its magnificence. He erected in the

centre of it a kiosk, the walls of which were six hundred feet long,

and the cement and all the jointings of it were of silver. This kiosk

contained a thousand chambers, each of which enclosed a throne of

gold: he caused three hundred and sixty-five gates of crystal to be

made, which he placed in such a manner that every day throughout the

year the rising sun shone upon one of them. His palace had seven

hundred porters; sixty viziers were occupied in his affairs. There

were always in the hall of audience sixty thrones, on which were

seated those who had signalized themselves in war. He had seven

thousand astrologers, who assembled every day, and continually

declared to him the different influences of the stars. He was always

surrounded by ten thousand ichoglans, who wore girdles and crowns of

solid gold, and were most magnificently clad: they had no other

employment but that of being always ready to receive his orders. He

appointed sixty pashas, each of whom had under his command two

thousand well-made and valiant young men, who each in particular

commanded two thousand soldiers.

One day, when Dakianos was in the height of his splendour, an old man

arose from beneath the throne upon which he was seated. The King,

amazed, asked him who he was. He was an unbelieving genie, but, far

from confessing it,

"I am," he answered, "a prophet of God: I obey His orders by coming to

you. Know, therefore, that He has made me the god of the heavens, and

that He ordains that you should be the god of the earth."

Dakianos answered him, "Who will believe that I am so?"

And the genie immediately disappeared.

Some time after, Dakianos had again the same apparition, and the genie

repeated to him the same things; but he answered him,

"You deceive me. How can I be the god of the earth?"

"Your power, your great actions, and the care that Allah has taken of

you, ought to persuade you; but if you will not believe me," pursued

the old man, "do what I shall tell you, and you will soon be

convinced."

Dakianos, whose pride this flattered, and who had nothing more to

desire of human greatness, promised him to consent to everything.

"Let your throne be placed upon the shore of the sea," pursued the old

man.

What he desired was executed. And when Dakianos was placed there,

"Prince," said the genie to him, "there is at the bottom of the sea a

fish, the bigness of which is known only to Allah, and which every day

comes to land. It remains there till noon to adore the Almighty. No

person interrupts its prayers: when they are finished, it plunges

again to the bottom of the sea."

The fish appeared as usual, and the genie said to Dakianos, "Though

the fish will not believe your power, it has, however, declared to all

the fishes of the sea that you are the god of the earth. It fears

nothing, and comes now to inform itself. You will know the truth of

what I have declared to you," continued he, "if you will only

condescend to say to him, 'I am the god of the earth.' Your voice

will freeze him with terror--he cannot hear it without surprise, and

will certainly take flight."

This proposition pleased Dakianos, and he called the fish, and said to

it, "'I am the god of the earth.'"

These words of infidelity made the fish immediately plunge to the

bottom of the sea, in the fear he was under lest the Almighty Power

should dart His thunder to punish that impostor. Dakianos easily

persuaded himself that the fish was an infidel, and that his presence

had made him take flight. From that moment he believed all the

deluding words of the genie, and soon had no doubt left of his

divinity. Not only his subjects adored him, but people came from all

corners of the world to give him those marks of adoration which he

exacted; for he caused all those to be thrown into a burning furnace

who refused to adore him.

In the number of the ten thousand slaves who stood always before him

with their hands crossed upon their breasts, there were six Greeks who

possessed his confidence, and who approached the nearest to his

person. They were named Jemlikha, Mekchilinia, Mechlima, Merlima,

Debermouch, and Charnouch. They were generally placed in an equal

number upon his right and left hand. Jemlikha was one whom he most

favoured, nature having endowed him with all her charms: his words

were sweeter than the honey of Arabia, and his wit sparkling and

agreeable; in a word, this young man united in himself all

perfections. Their employments engaged both him and his companions to

pay that homage to Dakianos which was due to God alone.

One day, as Dakianos was at table, Jemlikha held a fan to drive away

the flies that might incommode him: there came one which settled

itself with so much obstinacy upon the dish he was eating that he was

obliged to give it up. Jemlikha, struck with this slight event,

thought it ridiculous that a man who could not drive away even a fly

that troubled him, should pretend to divinity. "Surely," continued he,

"I ought to have no regard for such a god."

Some time after, Dakianos entered into one of his apartments to repose

himself for some hours; and Jemlikha still waited by him with the

fan. Allah once more sent the same fly, and at this time it placed

itself upon the face of the monarch. Jemlikha would have driven it

away lest it should interrupt his lord's sleep; but his pains were in

vain: it awakened Dakianos, and threw him into the greatest

impatience. Jemlikha, already touched by his first reflections, said

within himself, "This man certainly is no more a god than I am: there

can be but one God, and it is He who has created the sun that gives us

light."

From that time Jemlikha used the custom of saying every night when he

lay down, "The true God is He who created the heavens, and fixed them

in the air without a pillar."

It is difficult to make a serious reflection and not to communicate it

to a friend. Jemlikha declared all his doubts to his companions. "A

man," says he, "who cannot disengage himself from a fly, can he have

power over the works of nature?" Then he related the adventure of the

fly.

"But if our King is not a god," said they to him, "whom then are we to

adore?"

Jemlikha told them what he thought, and they were so far persuaded of

it, that from that day they joined with him every night in prayer.

Their assembling themselves together in private places soon became the

subject of conversation. Dakianos being informed of it, sent for them

into his presence, and said to them,

"Do you adore another God beside me?"

They contented themselves with answering him, "We adore the Sovereign

Master of the world."

The King, who took that answer to mean himself, loaded them with

caresses, and bestowed upon each of them a robe of honour. They

retired, covered with the favours of their master, and their first

care was to adore and thank the High God for His bounty to them.

Jemlikha afterwards said to them,

"If there should be again such an information given to the King as has

now put us into such imminent danger, we can hope for no further mercy

from him. I imagine, therefore, the only resolution we can take is to

quit our country, and to seek another, where we may adore God without

constraint."

"But how can we take our flight?" replied his companions. "We know no

other country but this."

"Let us put our trust in God," resumed Jemlikha, "and make use of any

favourable circumstance. We are not to follow Dakianos when he goes on

his magnificent chase for six days at the head of his army: what

hinders us taking that time for our departure? We will demand

permission of the officers of the palace that guard us to play at

feheukian;[3] we will go out of the square, throw the ball to a great

distance, and take our flight upon those swift horses which are

usually given us for that exercise."

[Footnote 3: An exercise performed on horseback.]

They approved this project, and waited with impatience for the time of

its execution. At length Dakianos departed with his numerous army.

The day after the King's departure they put in execution what they had

projected. The eunuchs pursued them, and would have forced them to

return back to the palace; but they answered them,

"We are tired of our King: he endeavours to pass for the God of the

earth, and we adore Him alone who has created all that we behold."

The young men had already drawn their sabres, and in a moment they put

the eunuchs out of a condition of following them. Then Jemlikha said

to them, "My friends, we are ruined if we do not use all possible

expedition."

They immediately put their horses at full speed, which so much

fatigued them that their strength was soon exhausted. They were then

obliged to continue their journey on foot, but being tired, and faint

with thirst and hunger, they stopped on the side of the road, and,

with entire confidence in God, prayed to Him to relieve them. Some

faithful genii heard them, and, touched with their situation, they

inspired into Jemlikha the thought of ascending a mountain, at the

foot of which they were. It was not without pain that he arrived at

the summit; but at length he perceived a spring, the pure and clear

water of which was to him the water of life, and a shepherd sitting by

it, who sang whilst his flock was feeding.

Jemlikha called to his companions: the few words he could make them

hear augmented their strength, and gave them courage sufficient to

ascend the mountain.

The shepherd, whose name was Keschetiouch, gave them some provisions,

and they drank of the water of this delightful fountain. This

refreshment re-established their strength, and their first care was to

return their thanks to Heaven for it. Then Keschetiouch said to them,

"How have you found the way to a place where I never yet saw any

mortal? If I am not mistaken, you are fugitives. Trust me with your

misfortunes: I may perhaps be of some service to you."

Jemlikha related to him all that had happened to them, and his

discourse struck the light of faith into the heart of this shepherd,

God so enlightening his mind, that he soon learned and repeated with

them their prayers. Afterwards he told them he would never quit them.

"Ephesus," says he, "is so near to this place, that you will still be

in some danger. Doubt not but Dakianos will use his utmost efforts to

have you seized. I know a cavern not far from hence, which perhaps in

a forty years' search could not be found: I will conduct you there."

Immediately without delay they arose and followed him.

The shepherd had a little dog, which he called Catnier, that followed

them. They did not care to take him with them; and using all their

skill to drive him away, they at last threw a stone at him, which

broke his leg; but he still followed them limping. They threw a second

at him, which did not turn him back, though it broke his other fore

leg, so that he walked only upon his two hind feet, continuing his

march. The third stone having broke one more, he was no longer in a

condition to stand. But Allah gave the gift of speech to this little

dog, who said to them,

"Alas! you go to seek after Allah, and you have prevented me from all

hope of going with you! Am not I also the creature of Allah? Are you

alone obliged to acknowledge Him?"

They were so astonished at this wonderful miracle, and moved with the

condition to which they had reduced the dog, that they carried him in

turn, and went on begging the protection of Heaven. They were not long

before they arrived at the cavern to which the shepherd conducted

them, and finding themselves fatigued with their journey, they lay

down to sleep; but by the particular mission of Heaven, they slept

with their eyes open, in such a manner that no one could suspect they

tasted any real repose. The cavern was so gloomy, the heat of the sun

could not incommode them; a gentle, pleasing wind incessantly

refreshed them, and a long narrow opening gave an entrance to the rays

of the sun at his rising.

In the meantime those eunuchs who had escaped from the sabres of the

young slaves came directly to give an account of what had passed to

Dakianos. He was in despair at their flight, and as he was

recollecting in his mind the favours he had shown them, and accusing

them of the highest ingratitude, the same unfaithful genie who had so

often appeared to him presented himself before him, and said to him,

"Your slaves have quitted you only that they might worship another

God, in whom they place all their trust."

This discourse so heightened the anger of Dakianos that he conjured

the genie to let him know the place of their retreat.

"I alone can bring you to it," returned the genie. "All mankind would

search for it in vain, but I will conduct you to it at the head of

your army."

They immediately departed, and were not long before they arrived at

the mouth of the cavern. The genie then said to Dakianos,

"It is here they are retired."

Dakianos, who was wholly possessed with the spirit of revenge,

immediately would have entered it; but that moment there burst out

from the cave a dreadful vapour, which was followed by a furious wind,

and a darkness that spread over all that part of the world. The army

gave back with horror; but anger redoubling the courage of Dakianos,

he advanced to the entrance of the cavern, but it was with incredible

difficulty, and, in spite of all his efforts, it was absolutely

impossible for him to enter it, the air being so impenetrable. He

perceived Catnier, who slept with his head resting upon his paw, and

distinguished plainly the six young Greeks and the shepherd, who were

all in a profound sleep, though he was far from suspecting it, as

their eyes were open. Dakianos was not rash enough to renew his

efforts--a secret horror restrained him. The sight of this cavern and

all the prodigies of Heaven spread so great a terror in his mind that

he returned to his army, and said that he had discovered his slaves,

who had prostrated themselves before him without having the courage to

speak to him, and that he had left them prisoners in the cavern till

he fixed his resolution respecting their punishment. In effect, he

consulted his sixty viziers, and demanded of them what remarkable

vengeance he could exercise upon these young slaves; but no advice of

theirs could give him satisfaction. He had recourse, therefore, to his

genie, who advised him to command the architects, who always marched

along with him, to raise a very thick wall, which should entirely

close up the entrance of the cavern, and take away all hope of succour

from those who were enclosed in it.

"You must take care for your own glory to cause to be engraved upon

this wall the time, the year, and the reasons that obliged you to

erect it; that will be the means," said he, "of informing posterity

that you revenged yourself with a greatness of spirit."

Dakianos approved this counsel, and caused a wall to be erected as

thick and solid as those of Alexandria; but he had the precaution to

reserve one passage, of which he alone knew the entrance, in hopes of

being one day able to seize upon his slaves, and with a view of

examining the events at the cavern, which, in spite of himself,

continually took up his thoughts. He added to all these precautions

that of placing a guard of twenty thousand men, who encamped before

the wall. All his armies had orders to relieve this body of troops

every month, who were commanded to put to death all those who

endeavoured to approach a place which enclosed those whose revolt and

flight were the first misfortunes of his life; for till that moment

everything had succeeded happily to him. A desire of revenge joined

itself to the insult he had received from them, which appeared greater

to him, as nothing had ever before dared to resist him. To a man

intoxicated with his power, of which he had been himself the sole

cause, so positive an opposition to his will was a cruel situation.

Nothing could prevent him from repairing every day to the cavern in

order to make new efforts to enter it, or at least to feed his eyes

with the objects of his vengeance.

The calm which was enjoyed by those whom he still looked upon as his

slaves redoubled his fury. Their eyes, which were, as he imagined,

fixed upon him--their silence to all the reproaches and invectives

with which he loaded them--even their attitude--all were marks of the

greatest contempt of him. One day, when he had joined to his usual

speeches the blackest imprecations against Heaven, Allah permitted

Catnier, without any motion, to answer him:

"Wretch! darest thou blaspheme a God who has let thee live,

notwithstanding the crimes that thou hast been guilty of? Believest

thou that He has forgot to punish the fate of the learned Egyptian,

whom thy avarice put to death, contrary to the most sacred oaths?"

Dakianos, whose wrath was impotent there, went out, distracted and

provoked with the insulting reproaches that he received from the dog

of his slaves. What a subject of humility! But far from having

recourse to prayer, and imploring Allah's clemency, his pride

revolted, and by a sentiment natural to the wicked, who generally

render those who are subject to them answerable for everything that

wounds their vanity, at his return he caused to be executed, in the

public square, above two thousand men, who had refused to adore him.

These examples of severity spread abroad the fire of a rebellion,

which was lighted in all parts of his dominions; and, notwithstanding

the anxiety that these troubles gave him to stop the progress of them,

an inward emotion, which he could not resist, led him continually

towards the cavern.

"What is it I go there to seek?" said he within himself. "The

reproaches and contempt of one of the vilest animals, whilst I am

everywhere adored--whilst every word that comes from my sacred mouth

is revered. Yet, notwithstanding this, what am I in the eyes of an

animal whom God protects? A shadow of power--an object of impotence!

Ah! Dakianos, what shame! what confusion But, however, I have

concealed it, notwithstanding this God, who will torment me, and His

efforts will be in vain against my regulations. How happy I am to have

concealed from my subjects the knowledge of such a misfortune! How

prudent was I in erecting a wall which forbids all entrance to the

cavern, and in hindering all mankind from approaching it by the troops

which I have disposed before it! But in what manner can my slaves have

subsisted whilst I have kept them enclosed there? Doubtless they have

some communication into the country, and that communication is unknown

to me. To remedy this inconvenience, I must surround the mountain with

my troops." Accordingly he gave orders to six hundred thousand men to

form an encampment round it, and to let no person approach a place

that was so odious to him.

When he had taken these new precautions, he returned to the entrance

of the cavern, and said, with a fierce and haughty voice,

"Now you will be obliged to deliver yourselves up to my power!"

Catnier answered him again, "We fear thee not: God is our protector.

But believe me, and return to Ephesus: thy presence is become

necessary there."

Dakianos perceiving that he would give no further answer, returned to

the city, and found that several of the chief of the eunuchs of his

seraglio were murdered. Dakianos, distracted at this affront, could

not forbear returning to the cavern, and saying to Catnier (because he

was the only creature that answered him),

"If thy God could restore me the honour that has been taken from me, I

would endeavour----"

Catnier answered him, "Go, return to Ephesus; other misfortunes attend

thee there."

These words threw Dakianos into the utmost confusion. He returned

immediately, and found that the demon of hatred had seized upon his

three sons, that they had drawn their sabres against each other, and

that the angel of death was come to fetch them hence, which he did

before his eyes. What an affliction to a father! What a disappointment

to an ambitious mind, who depended upon giving each of them an empire

in different parts of the world!

In the midst of the sorrow with which he was surrounded, he could not

prevent himself from returning once more to the cavern. "Wretches!"

said he to them, "what torments ought I not to make you suffer when

you shall fall into my hands? However, restore me my children, and I

will forgive all that you have done against me."

Catnier, who always spoke, answered him thus:

"God will restore no children whom He has banished from the world to

punish the crimes of their father. Go, return to Ephesus. Thou

deservest to find new misfortunes there."

"It is too much," cried Dakianos, retiring; and immediately, with rage

and despair in his heart, he commanded all his troops, and all the

inhabitants of Ephesus, to bring each of them a faggot, and see his

orders executed. Then he caused this enormous quantity of wood to be

piled before the cavern, in hopes of stifling those whom it enclosed;

but the wind beat back the flames of this amazing fire against the

army (who took to flight), and against the city. No private house,

notwithstanding, was in the least incommoded by it; but the fire

seized upon the palace of Dakianos, which was wholly reduced to ashes,

and all the treasure which he had amassed with so much care vanished

in a moment, whilst the cavern did not undergo the least alteration.

This last prodigy engaged him to have recourse to the seven sleepers,

and to Catnier himself, begging them to intercede for him. The little

dog answered him thus:

"It is fear, and not piety, that seems to soften the hardness of thy

heart. Begone: thou canst not deceive Allah."