Part 12

The company continued for some time silent: at length Safiè, who had placed herself on the seat in the middle of the room, said to Aminè, “Sister get up, you understand what I mean.” Aminè rose and went into a different closet from that whence the dogs were brought; she returned with a case covered with yellow satin, and richly ornamented with an embroidery of green and gold. She opened it, and took out a lute, which she presented to her sister. Safiè took it, and after having tuned it, began to accompany it with her voice: she sung an air on the torments of absence, in so agreeable a style, that the caliph and the rest of the company were enchanted. When she had finished, as she had sung with a great deal of action as well as passion, she offered the lute to Aminè, saying, “Sister, my voice fails me; do you take it, and oblige the company by playing and singing instead of me.”

Aminè having played a little prelude, to hear if the instrument was in tune, sung for some time on the same subject, but she became so affected by the words she uttered, that she had not power to finish the air. Zobeidè began to praise her sister: “You have done wonders,” said she, “it is easy to perceive that you feel the griefs you express.” Aminè had not time to reply to this speech; she felt herself so oppressed at that moment, that she could think of nothing but giving herself air, and opening her robe, she exposed a bosom, not white as the beautiful Aminè ought to have had, but so covered with scars, as to create a species of horror in the spectators. This, however, was of no service to her, and she fainted away.

Whilst Zobeidè and Safiè ran to assist their sister, one of the calenders exclaimed, “We had better have slept in the open air than come here to witness such a spectacle.”

The caliph, who heard him, drew near, and enquired what all this meant: “We know no more than you,” replied the calender. “What,” resumed the caliph, “do not you belong to the house? cannot you inform me about these two black dogs, and this lady, who appears to have been so ill treated?”--“Sir,” said the calender, “we never were in this house before now, and entered it only a few minutes sooner than you did.” This increased the astonishment of the caliph, “Perhaps,” said he, “the man who is with you can give us some information.” The calender made signs to the porter to draw near, and asked him if he knew why the black dogs had been beaten, and why the bosom of Aminè was so scarred. “Sir,” replied the porter, “I swear by the great living God, that if you know nothing of the matter, we are all equally ignorant. It is true that I live in the city, but before to-day I never entered this house; and if you are surprised to see me here, I am not less so at being in such company. What increases my surprise,” added he, “is not to see any man with these ladies.”

The caliph and his party, as well as the calenders, thought that the porter belonged to the family, and that he would have been able to have informed them of what they wished so much to know. The caliph, whatever might be the consequence, resolved to satisfy his curiosity. “Attend to me,” he said to the rest, “we are seven men and there are only three women, let us then compel them to give us the information we request; and if they refuse to comply with a good grace, we can force them to it. The grand vizier, Giafar, opposed this plan; and explained the consequences of it to the caliph, without discovering to the calenders who he was, as he always addressed him like a merchant. “Consider, sir, I beg,” said he, “that we have our reputation to preserve. You know on what condition these ladies suffered us to become their guests; and we accepted the terms. What will they say to us if we infringe the compact? And we should be still more to blame if any misfortune should happen to us in consequence of it. It is not to be supposed that they would require such a promise from us unless they should be able to make us repent if we broke it.”

The vizier now drew the caliph a little aside, and spoke to him in a low voice. “The night, my lord, will not last long, if your majesty will have but a little patience, I will then come and bring these women before you when on your throne, and you may learn from them whatever you wish.” Although this advice was very judicious, the caliph rejected it, and desired the vizier to be silent, and said he would not wait so long, but would that instant have the information he wished. The next question was, who should first make the enquiry. The caliph endeavoured to persuade the calenders to speak first, but they excused themselves. At last they all agreed, that it should be the porter. He was preparing to utter the fatal question, when Zobeidè, after having assisted Aminè, who had recovered from her fainting, approached them. As she had heard them speak in rather a loud and warm manner, she said to them, “What are you talking of? what is your contest about?”

The porter then addressed her as follows: “These gentlemen, madam, entreat you to have the goodness to explain to them why you wept with those dogs after having treated them so ill; and how it has happened that the lady who fainted has her bosom covered with scars. This, madam, is what I have been required by them to ask of you.”

At these words Zobeidè, in the most haughty and fierce manner, turned to the caliph and the calenders. “Is it true, gentlemen,” she asked, “that you have commissioned this man to require this information of me?” They all answered it was, except the vizier Giafar, who did not open his lips. Upon this she replied to them, in a tone which showed how much she was offended; “Because we granted you the favour you requested of us, and in order to prevent any cause of discontent or dissatisfaction on your parts as we were alone, we made our acquiescence subject to one positive condition, that you should not speak about what did not concern you, lest you should hear what would not please you. After having both received and entertained you as well as we possibly could, you do not scruple to break your word. This probably arises from the facility with which we agreed to receive you; but that surely is no excuse; and your conduct, therefore, cannot be considered as honourable.” Having concluded her speech, she struck the floor with her foot, and clapped her hand three times, and called out, “Enter quickly!” A door immediately opened, and seven strong powerful black slaves rushed in, with scimitars in their hands, and each seized one of the company. They threw them to the ground, drew them into the middle of the hall, and were preparing to take off their heads.

We may easily conceive what was the alarm of the caliph. He repented, but too late, at not having followed the advice of his vizier. In the mean time this unfortunate prince, Giafar, Mesrour, the porter, and the three calenders, were about to pay with their lives for their indiscreet curiosity; but before they received the fatal stroke, one of the slaves said to Zobeidè and her sisters, “High, powerful, and respectable mistresses, do you command us to cut their throats?”--“Stop,” answered Zobeidè, “it is necessary first to interrogate them.”--“Madam,” cried the affrighted porter, “in the name of God do not make me die for the crime of another. I am innocent, and they only are guilty. Alas!” he continued, weeping, “we were passing the time so agreeably. These one-eyed calenders are the cause of this misfortune; there is not even a city that would not be ruined by men of such ill-favoured countenances. I entreat you, madam, not to confound the first with the last; and remember, it is much more commendable to pardon a miserable wretch like me, deprived of all assistance, than to overwhelm him with your power, and sacrifice him to your resentment.”

Zobeidè, in spite of her anger, could not help laughing inwardly at the lamentations of the porter. But without paying any attention to him, she addressed herself again to the others. “Answer me,” said she, “and tell me who you are, if not, you have only an instant to live. I cannot believe that you are honourable men, or persons of authority or distinction in whatever country you call your own. If that had been the case, you would have paid more attention and more respect to us.”

The caliph, being naturally impatient, suffered infinitely more than the rest at finding his life depended upon the commands of an offended and justly irritated woman; but he began to conceive there were some hopes when he found, that she wished to know who they all were; as he imagined she would by no means take away his life, when she should be informed of his rank. It was for this reason that he whispered to his vizier, who was near him, instantly to declare who he was. But this wise and prudent minister, wishing to preserve the honour of his master, and being unwilling to make public the great affront he had brought upon himself, answered, “We suffer only what we deserve.” When, however, in obedience to the caliph, he wished to speak, Zobeidè would not give them time. She immediately addressed herself to the three calenders, and observing that they were all three blind with one eye, she asked if they were brothers. “No, madam,” answered one of them for the rest, “we are not brothers by blood, but only in consequence of being calenders; that is, in pursuing and observing the same kind of life.”--“Have you,” said she, “speaking to one of them in particular, “lost the sight of one eye from your birth?”--“No, indeed, madam,” he answered, “I became so through a most surprising adventure, by the recital or perusal of which, were it written, every one must derive advantage. After this misfortune, I shaved my beard and eyebrows, and in taking up the habit I wear, became a calender.”

Zobeidè put the same question to the others, who returned her the same answer as the first. But the last who spoke, added, “To inform you, madam, that we are not common persons, and in order that you should have some pity for us, we must tell you, that we are all the sons of kings. Although we have never seen each other before this evening, we have had sufficient time to become acquainted with this circumstance; and I can assure you, that the kings who have given us birth have made some noise in the world!”

During this speech Zobeidè became less angry, and told the slaves to set them at liberty, but at the same time to remain where they were. “They,” said she, “who shall recount their history to me, and explain the motives which brought them to this house, shall suffer no harm, but shall have permission to go where they please; but such as shall refuse to give us that satisfaction, shall not be spared.” The three calenders, the caliph, the grand vizier Giafar, the eunuch Mesrour, and the porter, were all on the carpet in the middle of the hall before the three ladies, who sat on a sofa, with the slaves behind them, ready to execute any orders they might receive.

The porter, understanding that he had only to relate his history in order to be delivered from so great a danger, spoke first. “You are already acquainted, madam,” he said, “with my history and what brought me to your house. What I have to relate, therefore, will soon be finished. Your sister engaged me this morning at the place where I take my stand in quality of a porter, by which I endeavour to gain a living. I followed her to a wine-merchant’s, to an herbseller’s, to an orange-merchant’s, and to those who sell almonds, nuts, and other dried fruits. We then went to a confectioner’s, and to a druggist’s, from thence with my basket on my head as full as it well could be, I came here, where you had the goodness to suffer me to remain till now, a favor I shall never forget. This is the whole of my history.”

When the porter had concluded, Zobeidè, very well satisfied with him, said, “Save thyself and begone, nor ever let us see thee again.”--“I beg of you, madam,” replied he, “to let me remain a little longer. It would be unfair that I should not hear their histories after they have had the pleasure of hearing mine.” In saying this, he took his place at the end of the sofa, truly delighted at finding himself free from the danger which so much alarmed him. One of the calenders next spoke, and addressing himself to Zobeidè, as the principal person who had commanded them to give an account of themselves, began his history as follows.

THE HISTORY OF THE FIRST CALENDER, THE SON OF A KING.

In order to inform you, madam, how I lost my right eye, and the reason that I have been obliged to take the habit of a calender, I must begin by telling you that I am the son of a king. My father had a brother, who, like himself, was a monarch over a neighbouring state. This brother had two children, a son and a daughter; the former of whom was near my age.

When I had gone through all my exercises, and the king, my father, had allowed me a proper degree of liberty, I went regularly every year to see my uncle, and passed a month or two at his court, after which I returned home. These visits produced between the prince, my cousin, and myself, the most intimate friendship. The last time I saw him he received me with demonstrations of the greatest joy and tenderness, more so indeed than ever; and wishing one day to amuse me by some great entertainment, he made extraordinary preparations for it. We remained a long time at table, and after we had both supped, “You can never, my cousin,” he said to me, “possibly imagine what has occupied my thoughts since your last journey. Since you were here last, I have employed a great number of workmen about the design I meditated. I have erected a building, which is just finished, and we shall soon be able to lodge there: you will not be sorry to see it, but you must first take an oath that you will be both secret and faithful: these two things I must require of you.”

The friendship and familiarity in which we lived, did not permit me to refuse him any thing; I took, therefore, without hesitation the oath he required. “Wait for me in this place,” he cried, “and I will be with you in a moment,” He did not in fact detain me long, but returned with a female in his hand, of very great beauty and most magnificently dressed.

He did not say who she was, nor did I think it right to inquire. We again sat down to the table with the lady, and remained there some time, talking of different things and drinking bumpers to each other’s health. The prince then said to me, “We have no time to lose; oblige me by taking this lady with you, and conduct her by such a way to a place where you will see a tomb newly erected, in the shape of a dome. You will easily know it, as the door is open. Enter there together and wait for me, I will return directly.”

Faithful to my oath, I did not wish to know more. I presented my hand to the lady, and following the instructions which the prince, my cousin, had given me, I conducted her safely by the light of the moon without any mistake. We had scarcely got to the tomb when we saw the prince, who had followed us with a small vessel full of water, a hoe or spade, and a small sack, in which there was some lime, or mortar. The spade served him to destroy the empty sepulchre which was in the middle of the tomb; he took the stones away one by one, and placed them in one corner. When he had taken them all away, he made a hole in the ground, and I perceived a trapdoor under the sepulchre. He lifted it up, and discovered the beginning of a winding stair-ease. My cousin, then addressing himself to the lady, said, “This is the way, madam, that leads to the place I have mentioned to you. At these words the lady approached and descended the stairs. The prince was just going to follow her, but first turning to me, “I am infinitely obliged to you, my cousin,” said he, “for the trouble you have had, receive my best thanks for it, and farewell.”--“My dear cousin,” I cried, “what does all this mean?”--“That is of no consequence,” he answered, “you may return by the same way you came.”

I was unable to learn any thing more from him, and was obliged to take my leave of him. In returning to my uncle’s palace, the vapour of the wine I had before drunk began to affect my head. I nevertheless reached my apartment and retired to rest. On waking the next morning, I made many reflections on the occurrences of the night before, and recalled all the circumstances of so singular an adventure to my recollection. The whole appeared to me to be a dream. I was so much persuaded of it, that I sent to know if the prince, my cousin, was yet dressed. But when they brought me word that he had not slept at home, nor did they know what was become of him, and were very much distressed at it, I concluded that the strange adventure of the tomb was too true. This afflicted me very much, and keeping myself in private, I went secretly to the public cemetery, or burial place, where there were a great many tombs similar to that which I had before seen. I passed the day in examining them all, but was unable to discover the one I searched for. I spent four days in the same useless pursuit.

It is necessary for me to inform you, that the king, my uncle, was absent during the whole of this time. He had been for some time on a hunting party. I was very unwilling to wait for his coming back, and having requested his ministers to make my excuses for going, I set out on my return to my father’s court, from which I was not accustomed to make so long a stay. I left my uncle’s ministers very much distressed at not being able to discover what was become of the prince; but as I could not violate the oath I had taken to keep the secret, I dared not lessen their anxiety by informing them of any part of what I knew.

I arrived at the capital of my father, and contrary to the usual custom, I discovered at the gate of the palace a large guard, by whom I was immediately surrounded. I demanded the reason of this; when an officer answered, “the army, prince, has acknowledged the grand vizier as king in the room of your father, who is dead; and I arrest you as prisoner on behalf of the new king.” At these words the guards seized me and conducted me before the tyrant. Judge, madam, what was my surprise and grief.

This rebellious vizier had conceived a strong hatred against me, which he had for a long time cherished. The cause of it was as follows: when I was very young, I was fond of shooting with a cross-bow. One day I took one to the top of the palace and amused myself with it on the terrace. A bird happened to fly before me; I shot at it, but missed; and the arrow by chance struck the vizier on the eye and put it out, as he was taking the air on the terrace of his own house. As soon as I was informed of this accident, I went and made my apologies to him in person. He did not, however, fail to preserve a strong resentment against me, of which he gave every proof he could when any opportunity occurred. When he now found me in his power, he evinced it in the most barbarous manner. As soon as he saw me, he ran towards me in the utmost rage, and digging his fingers into my right eye, he tore it himself from the socket. It was in this way I became blind.

But the usurper did not confine his cruelty to this action alone. He ordered me to be imprisoned in a sort of cage, and to be carried in this manner to some distant place, where the executioner, after cutting off my head, was to leave my body exposed to the birds of prey. The executioner mounted his horse, accompanied by another man, and carried me with him. He did not stop till he came to a place proper for the execution of his order. I made, however, so good a use of entreaties, prayers, and tears, that I excited his compassion. “Go,” said he to me, “depart instantly out of the kingdom, and take care never to return; if you do, you will only encounter certain destruction, and will be the cause of mine.” I thanked him for the favour he did me: and I was no sooner alone than I consoled myself for the loss of my eye, by reflecting that I had just escaped from a greater misfortune.

In the state in which I was, I could not get on very fast. During the day, I concealed myself in unfrequented and secret places, and travelled by night as far as my strength would permit me. At length I arrived in the country belonging to the king, my uncle; and I proceeded directly to the capital.

I gave a long detail of the dreadful cause of my return, and of the miserable state in which he saw me. “Alas!” cried he, “was it not sufficient to lose my son; but must I now learn the death of a brother whom I dearly loved; and find you in the deplorable state to which you are reduced?” He informed me of the distress he had suffered from not being able to learn any tidings of his son, in spite of all the inquiries he had made, and all the diligence he had used. The tears ran from the eyes of this unfortunate father in giving me this account; and he appeared to me so much afflicted, that I could not resist his grief; nor could I keep the oath I had pledged to my cousin. I then related to the king every thing that had formerly passed.

He listened to me with some sort of consolation, and when I had finished, he said, “The recital, my dear nephew, you have given me, affords me some little hope. I well know that my son built such a tomb, and I know very nearly on what spot. With the recollection also, which you may have, I flatter myself we may discover it. But since he has done all this so secretly, and required you also to keep it unknown, I am of opinion that we two only should make the search, in order to avoid its being generally known and talked of. He had also another reason which he did not inform me of, for wishing to keep this a secret. This reason, as the conclusion of my history will show, was a very important one.

We each of us disguised ourselves and went out by a garden gate which opened into the fields. We were fortunate enough very soon to discover the object of our search. I immediately recognised the tomb, and was the more rejoiced as I had before searched for it so long to no purpose. We entered, and found the iron trap-door shut down upon the opening to the stairs. We had great difficulty in lifting it up, because the prince had cemented it down with the lime and the water which I mentioned his having carried: at last, however, we got it up. My uncle was the first who descended; and I followed. We went down about fifty steps, when we found ourselves at the bottom of the stairs in a sort of anti-room, which was full of a thick smoke, very unpleasant to the smell, and which obscured the light thrown from a very brilliant lustre.

From this anti-chamber we passed on to one much larger, the roof of which was supported by large columns, and illuminated by many lustres. In the middle there was a cistern, and on each side we observed various sorts of provisions. We were much surprised at not seeing any one. Opposite to us, there was a raised sofa, to which they ascended by some steps, and beyond this there appeared a very large bed, the curtains of which were drawn. The king went up, and undrawing them, discovered the prince, his son, and the lady in bed together, but burnt and changed into a coal, as if they had been thrown on to an immense fire, and had been taken off before they were consumed. What surprised me even more than this sight itself was, that my uncle did not evince any sorrow or regret at seeing his son in this horrid state. He spit in his face, and said in an enraged manner, “See what is the punishment of this world, but that of the next will be eternal.” Not satisfied with saying this, he pulled off his slipper and gave his son a great blow on his cheek.