Chapter 21

Then I left him and went home. On the morrow, I returned, at the appointed hour, and found him indeed dead, the mercy of God be on him! So I washed him and unsewing his gown, found in the bosom a ruby worth thousands of diners and said to myself, "By Allah, this youth was indeed abstracted from the things of this world!" After I had buried him, I made my way to Baghdad and going to the Khalif's palace, waited till he came forth, when I accosted him in one of the streets and gave him the ruby, which when he saw, he knew and fell down in a swoon. His attendants laid hands on me, but he revived and bade them unhand me and bring me courteously to the palace. They did his bidding, and when he returned, he sent for me and carrying me into his closet, said to me, "How doth the owner of this ruby?" Quoth I, "He is dead;" and told him what had passed; whereupon he fell a-weeping and said, "The son hath profited, but the father is disappointed." Then he called out, saying, "Ho, such an one!" And behold, a woman came out to him. When she saw me, she would have withdrawn; but he said to her, "Come; and heed him not." So she entered and saluted, and he threw her the ruby, which when she knew, she gave a great shriek and fell down in a swoon. As soon as she came to herself, she said, "O Commander of the Faithful, what hath God done with my son?" And he said to me, "Do thou tell her;" for he could not speak for weeping. So I repeated the story to her, and she began to weep and say in a failing voice, "How I have longed for thy sight, O consolation of my eyes! Would I might have given thee to drink, when thou hadst none to tend thee! Would I might have companied with thee, whenas thou foundest none to cheer thee!" And she poured forth tears and recited the following verses:

I weep for one to whom death came, an exile and in pain: Alone he died, without a friend to whom he might complain. Puissant and honoured and conjoined with those that loved him dear, To live alone and seeing none, unfriended, he was fain. That which the days conceal shall yet be manifest to us: Not one of us by death, indeed, unsmitten may remain. O absent one, the Lord of all decreed thy strangerhood, And thou left'st far behind the love that was betwixt us twain! Though death, my son, forbid me hope to see thee in this life, Tomorrow, on the Reckoning-Day, we two shall meet again.

Quoth I, "O Commander of the Faithful, was he indeed thy son?" "Yes," answered he; "and indeed, before I succeeded to this office, he was wont to visit the learned and company with the devout; but, when I became Khalif, he grew estranged from me and withdrew himself apart. Then said I to his mother, 'This thy son is absorbed in God the Most High, and it may be that tribulations shall befall him and he be smitten with stress of evil chance; wherefore, do thou give him this ruby, that it may be to him a resource in the hour of need.' So she gave it him, conjuring him to take it, and he obeyed her. Then he left the things of our world to us and removed himself from us; nor did he cease to be absent from us, till he went to the presence of God (to whom belong might and majesty) with a holy and pure mind." Then said he, "Come, show me his grave." So we repaired to Bassora and I showed him his son's grave. When he saw it, he wept and lamented, till he fell down in a swoon; after which he came to himself and asked pardon of God, saying, "We are God's, and to Him we return!" and invoked blessings on the dead. Then he besought me of companionship; but I said to him, "O Commander of the Faithful, verily, in thy son's case is for me the gravest of admonitions!" And I recited the following verses:

'Tis I am the stranger! None harbours the wight, Though he lie in his native city by night. 'Tis I am the exile! Nor children nor wife Nor comrades have I, to take ruth on my plight. The mosques are my refuge; I haunt them indeed: My heart from their shelter shall never take flight. To the Lord of all creatures, to God be the praise, Whilst yet in the body abideth the spright!

THE SCHOOLMASTER WHO FELL IN LOVE BY REPORT.

(Quoth one of the erudite), I passed once by a [school, in which a] schoolmaster, comely of aspect and well dressed, was teaching children; so I entered, and he rose and made me sit with him. Then I examined him in the Koran and in syntax and poetry and lexicography, and found him perfect in all that was required of him and said to him, "God strengthen thy purpose! Thou art indeed versed in all that is sought of thee." So I frequented him awhile, discovering daily some new excellence in him, and said to myself, "This is indeed a wonder in a schoolmaster; for the understanding are agreed upon the lack of wit of those that teach children." Then I separated myself from him and sought him out and visited him [only] every few days, till, one day, coming to see him as of wont, I found the school shut and made enquiry of the neighbours, who said, "Some one is dead in his house." So I said to myself, "It behoves me to pay him a visit of condolence," and going to his house, knocked at the door. A slave-girl came out to me and said, "What dost thou want?" "I want thy master," answered I. Quoth she, "He is sitting alone, mourning." "Tell him," rejoined I, "that his friend so and so seeks to condole with him." She went in and told him; and he said, "Admit him." So she brought me in to him, and I found him seated alone and his head bound [with the fillets of mourning]. "May God amply requite thee!" said I. "This is a road all must perforce travel, and it behoves thee to take patience. But who is dead unto thee?" "One who was dearest and best beloved of the folk to me," answered he. Quoth I, "Perhaps thy father?" He replied, "No;" and I said, "Thy mother?" "No," answered he. "Thy brother?" "No." "One of thy kindred?" "No." "Then," asked I, "what relation was the dead to thee?" "My mistress," answered he. Quoth I to myself, "This is the first sign of his lack of wit." Then I said to him, "There are others than she and fairer;" and he answered, "I never saw her, that I might judge whether or no there be others fairer than she." Quoth I to myself, "This is another sign" Then I said to him, "And how couldst thou fall in love with one thou hast never seen?" Quoth he, "I was sitting one day at the window, when there passed by a man, singing the following verse:

Umm Amri,[FN#136] God requite thee thy generosity! Give back my heart, prithee, wherever it may be!

When I heard this, I said to myself, 'Except this Umm Amri were without equal in the world, the poets had not celebrated her in amorous verse.' So I fell in love with her; but, two days after, the same man passed, singing the following verse:

The jackass with Umm Amri departed; but, alas, Umm Amri! She returned not again, nor did the ass.

Thereupon I knew that she was dead and mourned for her. This was three days ago, and I have been mourning ever since." So I left him and went away, having assured myself of the feebleness of his wit.

THE FOOLISH SCHOOLMASTER

A man of elegant culture once entered a school and sitting down by the master, entered into discourse with him and found him an accomplished theologian, poet, grammarian and lexicographer, intelligent, well bred and pleasant; whereat he wondered, saying in himself, 'It cannot be that a man, who teaches children in a school, should have a perfect wit.' When he was about to go away, the schoolmaster said to him, 'Thou art my guest to-night;' and he consented and accompanied him to his house, where he made much of him and set food before him. They ate and drank and sat talking, till a third part of the night was past, when the host spread his guest a bed and went up to his harem. The other lay down and addressed himself to sleep, when, behold, there arose a great clamour in the harem. He asked what was to do, and they said, 'A terrible thing hath befallen the sheikh, and he is at the last gasp.' 'Take me up to him,' said he. So they carried him to the schoolmaster, whom he found lying insensible, with his blood streaming down. He sprinkled water on his face and when he revived, he said to him, 'What has betided thee? When thou leftest me, thou west in all good cheer and sound of body.' 'O my brother,' answered the schoolmaster, 'after I left thee, I sat meditating on the works of God the Most High and said to myself, "In every thing God hath created for man there is an use; for He (to whom be glory) created the hands to seize, the feet to walk, the eyes to see, the ears to hear and the yard to do the deed of kind; and so on with all the members of the body, except these two cullions; there is no use in them." So I took a razor I had by me and cut them off; and there befell me what thou seest.' So the guest left him and went away, saving, 'He was in the right who said, "No schoolmaster who teaches children can have a perfect wit, though he know all sciences."

THE IGNORANT MAN WHO SET UP FOR A SCHOOLMASTER.

There was once, among the hangers-on of the collegiate mosque, a man who knew not how to read and write and got his bread by gulling the folk. One day, he bethought him to open a school and teach children; so he got him tablets and written scrolls and hung them up in a [conspicuous] place. Then he enlarged his turban and sat down at the door of the school. The people, who passed by and saw his turban and the tablets and scrolls, thought he must be a very learned doctor; so they brought him their children; and he would say to this, 'Write,' and to that, 'Read;' and thus they taught one another.

One day, as he sat, as of wont, at the door of the school, he saw a woman coming up, with a letter in her hand, and said to himself, 'This woman doubtless seeks me, that I may read her the letter she has in her hand. How shall I do with her seeing I cannot read writing?' And he would fain have gone down and fled from her; but, before he could do this, she overtook him and said to him, 'Whither away?' Quoth he, 'I purpose to pray the noontide-prayer and return.' 'Noon is yet distant,' said she; 'so read me this letter.' He took the letter and turning it upside down, fell to looking at it, now shaking his head and anon knitting his eyebrows and showing concern. Now the letter came from the woman's husband, who was absent; and when she saw the schoolmaster do thus, she said, 'Doubtless my husband is dead, and this learned man is ashamed to tell me so.' So she said to him, 'O my lord, if he be dead, tell me.' But he shook his head and held his peace. Then said she, 'Shall I tear my clothes?' 'Tear,' answered he. 'Shall I buffet my face?' asked she; and he said, 'Buffet.' So she took the letter from his hand and returning home, fell a-weeping, she and her children.

One of her neighbours heard her weeping and asking what ailed her, was answered, 'She hath gotten a letter, telling her that her husband is dead.' Quoth the man, 'This is a lying saying; for I had a letter from him but yesterday, advising me that he is in good health and case and will be with her after ten days.' So he rose forthright and going in to her, said, 'Where is the letter thou hast received?' She brought it to him, and he took it and read it; and it ran as follows, after the usual salutations, 'I am well and in good health and case and will be with thee after ten days. Meanwhile, I send thee a quilt and an extinguisher.'[FN#137] So she took the letter and returning with it to the schoolmaster, said to him, 'What moved thee to deal thus with me?' And she repeated to him what her neighbour had told her of her husband's well-being and of his having sent her a quilt and an extinguisher. 'Thou art in the right,' answered he. 'But excuse me, good woman; for I was, at the time, troubled and absent-minded and seeing the extinguisher wrapped in the quilt, thought that he was dead and they had shrouded him.' The woman, not smoking the cheat, said, 'Thou art excused.' and taking the letter, went away.

THE KING AND THE VIRTUOUS WIFE

A certain King once went forth in disguise, to look into the affairs of his subjects. Presently, he came to a great village and being athirst, stopped at the door of a house and asked for water. There came out to him a fair woman, with a pitcher of water, which she gave him, and he drank. When he looked at her, he was ravished with her and required her of love. Now she knew him; so she brought him into the house and making him sit down, brought out a book and said to him, 'Look in this book, whilst I order my affair and return to thee.' So he looked into the book, and behold, it treated of the Divine prohibition against adultery and of the punishments that God hath prepared for those that do it. When he read this, his flesh quaked and he repented to God the Most High: then he called the woman and giving her the book, went away. Now her husband was absent and when he returned, she told him what had passed, whereat he was confounded and said in himself, 'I fear lest the King's desire have fallen upon her.' And he dared not have to do with her after this.

After awhile, the wife told her kinsfolk of her husband's conduct, and they complained of him to the King, saying, 'May God advance the King! This man hired of us a piece of land, for tillage, and tilled it awhile; then left it fallow and tilled it not, neither forsook it, that we might let it to one who would till it. Indeed, harm is come to the field, and we fear its corruption, for that land, if it be not tilled' spoileth.' Quoth the King to the man, 'What hinders thee from tilling thy land?' 'May God advance the King!' answered he. 'It came to my knowledge that a lion entered the field, wherefore I stood in awe of him and dared not approach it, seeing that I know I cannot cope with the lion, and I stand in fear of him.' The King understood the parable and rejoined, saying, 'O fellow, the lion trampled not thy land, and it is good for tillage; so do thou till it and God prosper thee in it, for the lion hath done it no hurt.' Then he bade give the man and his wife a handsome present and sent them away.

ABDURREHMAN THE MOOR'S STORY OF THE ROC.

There was once a man of the people of Morocco, called Abdurrehman the Moor, and he was known, to boot, as the Chinaman, for his long sojourn in Cathay. He had journeyed far and wide and traversed many seas and deserts and was wont to relate wondrous tales of his travels. He was once cast upon an island, where he abode a long while and returning thence to his native country, brought with him the quill of the wing-feather of a young roe, whilst yet unhatched and in the egg; and this quill was big enough to hold a skinful of water, for it is said that the length of the young roe's wing, when it comes forth of the egg, is a thousand fathoms. The folk marvelled at this quill, when they saw it, and Abdurrehman related to them the following adventure.

He was on a voyage in the China seas, with a company of merchants, when they sighted a great island so they steered for it and casting anchor before it, saw that it was large and spacious. The ship's people went ashore to get wood and water, taking with them skins and ropes and axes, and presently espied a great white gleaming dome, a hundred cubits high. So they made towards it and drawing near, found that it was a roe's egg and fell on it with axes and stones and sticks, till they uncovered the young bird and found it as it were a firm-set mountain. They went about to pluck out one of its wing-feathers, but could not win to do so, save by helping one another, for all the feathers were not full grown; after which they took what they could carry of the young bird's flesh and cutting the quill away from the feather-part, returned to the ship. Then they spread the canvas and putting out to sea, sailed with a fair wind all that night, till the sun rose, when they saw the old roc come flying after them, as he were a vast cloud, with a rock in his talons, like a great mountain, bigger than the ship. As soon as he came over the vessel, he let fall the rock upon it; but the ship, having great way on her, forewent the rock, which fell into the sea with a terrible crash. So God decreed them safety and delivered them from destruction; and they cooked the young bird's flesh and ate it. Now there were amongst them old grey bearded men; and when they awoke on the morrow, they found that their beards had turned black, nor did any who had eaten of the young roc ever grow grey. Some held the cause of the return of youth to them and the ceasing of hoariness from them to be that they had heated the pot with arrow-wood, whilst others would have it that it came of eating the young roe's flesh; and this is indeed a wonder of wonders.

ADI BEN ZEID AND THE PRINCESS HIND.

En Numan ben el Mundhir, King of the Arabs [of Irak], had a daughter named Hind, who was eleven years old and was the loveliest woman of her age and time. She went out one Easter, which is a feast-day of the Nazarenes,[FN#138] to the White Church, to take the sacrament. Now that day came to El Hireh a young man called Adi ben Zeid,[FN#139] with presents from Chosroës,[FN#140] to En Numan, and he also went into the White Church, to communicate. He was tall and well-favoured, with handsome eyes and smooth cheeks, and had with him a company of his people. Now there was with Hind a slave-girl named Mariyeh, who was enamoured of Adi, but had not been able to win to him. So, when she saw him in the church, she said to Hind, 'Look at yonder youth. By Allah, he is handsomer than all thou seest!' 'And who is he?' asked Hind. 'Adi ben Zeid,' answered Mariyeh Quoth the princess, 'I fear lest he know me, if I draw near, to look on him closelier.' 'How should he know thee,' said Mariyeh, 'when he has never seen thee?' So she drew near him and found him jesting with his companions; and indeed he surpassed them all, not only in his beauty, but in the excellence of his speech and the eloquence of his tongue and the richness of his apparel. When the princess saw him, she was ravished with him, her reason was confounded and her colour changed; and Mariyeh, seeing her inclination to him, said to her, 'Speak to him.' So she spoke to him and went away.

When he saw her and heard her speech, he was captivated by her and his wit was dazed; his colour changed and his heart fluttered, so that his companions misdoubted of him, and he whispered one of them to follow her and find out who she was. The man followed her and returning to his master, informed him that she was the princess Hind, daughter of En Numan. So Adi left the church, knowing not whither he went, for stress of love, and reciting the following verses:

Companions mine, yet one more favour I entreat: Address ye to the ways once more your travelling feet. Turn me towards the lands, the lands where Hinda dwells; Then go and her I love with tidings of me greet.

Then he went to his lodging and lay that night, restless nor tasting sleep. On the morrow, Mariyeh accosted him, and he received her kindly, though before he would not hearken to her, and said to her, 'What is thy will?' Quoth she, 'I have a suit to thee.' 'Name it,' answered he; 'for, by Allah, thou shalt not ask me aught, but I will give it thee!' So she told him that she was in love with him, and her suit to him was that he would grant her a lover's privacy; and he agreed to do her will, on condition that she would serve him with Hind and make shift to bring them together. Then he took her into a vintner's shop, in one of the by-streets of Hireh, and lay with her; after which she returned to Hind and said to her, 'Dost thou not long to see Adi?' 'How can this be?' replied the princess. 'Indeed my longing for him makes me restless, and no repose is left me since yesterday, on his account.' Quoth Mariyeh, 'I will appoint him to be in such a place, where thou canst look on him from the palace.' 'Do what thou wilt,' replied Hind and agreed with her upon the place.

So Adi came, and the princess looked out upon him; and when she saw him, she was like to fall down from the top of the palace and said to Mariyeh, 'Except thou bring him in to me this night, I shall die.' So saying, she fell down in a swoon, and her serving-women lifted her up and bore her into the palace; whilst Mariyeh hastened to En Numan and discovered the whole matter to him, saying, 'Verily, she is mad for love of Adi; and except thou marry her to him, she will be put to shame and die of love for him.' The King bowed his head awhile in thought and exclaimed again and again, 'Verily, we are God's and to Him we return!' Then said he, 'Out on thee! How shall the marriage be brought about, seeing it misliketh me to open the matter to him?' 'He is yet more ardently in love and yet more desireful of her than she of him,' answered Mariyeh; 'and I will so order the matter that he shall be unaware that his case is known to thee; but do not betray thyself, O King.'

Them she went to Adi and said to him, 'Make a feast and bid the King thereto; and when wine hath gotten the better of him, ask of him the hand of his daughter, for he will not refuse thee.' Quoth Adi, 'I fear lest this enrage him against me and be the cause of enmity between us.'

But she answered, 'I came not to thee, till I had settled the whole matter with him.' Then she returned to En Numan and said to him, 'Seek of Adi that he entertain thee in his house.' 'There is no harm in that,' replied the King and after three days, besought Adi to give him and his lords the morning-meal in his house. The young man consented, and the King went to him; and when the wine had taken effect on En Numan, Adi rose and sought of him his daughter in marriage. He consented and married them and brought her to him after three days; and they abode at En Numan's court, in all delight and solace of life, three years, at the end of which time the King was wroth with Adi and slew him. Hind mourned for him with an exceeding grief and built her a convent without the city, whither she retired and devoted herself to religious exercises, weeping and bemoaning her husband, till she died. And her convent is extant to this day without El Hireh.

DIBIL EL KHUZAÏ WITH THE LADY AND MUSLIM BEN EL WELID.

(Quoth Dibil el Khuzaï[FN#141]), I was sitting one day at the gate of El Kerkh,[FN#142] when a lady came up to me, never saw I a handsomer or better shaped than she, walking with a swaying gait and ravishing, with her flexile grace, all who beheld her. When my eyes fell on her, I was captivated by her and my entrails trembled and meseemed my heart fled forth of my breast; so I accosted her with the following verse:

Unsealed are the springs of tears for mine eyes, heigho! And sealed are the springs of sleep to my lids, for woe.

She turned her head and looking at me, made answer forthright with the following:

And surely, an ailing eye to have, for him Whom her looks invite, is a little thing, I trow.

I was astounded at the readiness of her reply and the sweetness of her speech and rejoined with this verse:

And doth then the heart of my fair indeed incline To favour him whose tears as a river flow?

She answered me, without hesitation, thus:

If thou desire us of love, betwixt us love Is a loan to be returned, I'd have thee know.

Never entered my ears sweeter than her speech nor ever saw I brighter than her face: so I changed the rhyme and measure, to try her, in my wonder at her speech, and repeated the following verse:

Will destiny e'er gladden us with union and delight And one desireful one at last with other one unite?

She smiled at this, (never saw I fairer than her mouth nor sweeter than her lips,) and answered me, without hesitation, as follows: