Chapter VII: Book III (1)

_Hatim’s journey to the desert and city of Himyar--His interview with Hamīr, and his return to the city of Shahabad._

The historians have informed us, that when Hatim set out on his journey from Shahabad he had not the least idea in what direction he ought to proceed. All he knew of the man in question was, that he dwelt in the city of Himyar; he therefore placed his reliance upon divine Providence, and continued his route to the north. When a month had thus passed, the summit of a mountain appeared in the distant horizon. Thither Hatim directed his steps, and when he arrived at the foot of the mountain, he heard a voice loudly exclaiming: “_Come, oh come, I can no longer endure thy absence._”

Hatim ascended the mountain till he saw a wide-spreading and shady tree, underneath which was placed a sofa formed of marble. On the sofa reclined a young man fair of countenance, holding in his hand a branch of the tree, and his eyes shut as it were in a state of abstraction, exclaiming, at short intervals, “_Come, oh come, I can no longer endure thy absence._” When Hatim saw him, he wondered within himself how a human being could have taken up his residence in such a solitary spot: he therefore resolved to ask him the cause of his sorrow. He went close to the youth, and said, “Friend, tell me the nature of your grief.” The young man continued in a state of listlessness without taking the least notice of Hatim’s inquiry, but uttered again the words above given. Hatim once more addressed him, but received no reply; and then, he for the third time asked him, saying, “Strange youth, surely you are deaf; thrice have I requested to know the cause of your sorrow, and you have returned me no answer: am I not to be considered by you as a man, and a servant of the Almighty?” The youth opened his eyes, and seeing Hatim, said to him, “My friend, whence come you; what is your business with me, and what is the subject of your inquiries?”--“You and I,” replied Hatim, “are of the same species; perhaps I may be able to contribute to your relief.”--“Alas!” rejoined the other, “many a one like you has come here, and having teased me with questions respecting my condition, has abandoned me; but no one has hitherto made any effort to relieve me: may I then request that you will go your way?” Hatim still persevered, saying, “As you have told your tale to so many, I beg for heaven’s sake, that you will let me hear it.”--“Sit down then for a moment,” said the young man, “till I relate to you my history.”

Hatim reclined beneath the shade of the tree, and the youth proceeded with his tale: “I am a merchant. Once I was journeying with my caravan towards the empire of Rūm, and at a certain spot on the road near this mountain I desired my attendants to move onwards, while I remained admiring the surrounding scenery, after which I should soon overtake them. My caravan accordingly proceeded, and I began to climb the mountain; but the higher I went, the greater became my desire to reach its summit. At length I stopped to rest underneath this tree; when, lo! a damsel unparalleled in beauty of countenance and elegance of form, presented herself to my view. The moment I beheld this ravisher of hearts, reason abandoned my soul; and I fell senseless on the ground. The moon-faced damsel approached me, and raising my head upon her lap, besprinkled my face with rose-water of sweet fragrance. When I returned to my senses, and found my head reclining upon the lap of this Hourī, heavens! had I a thousand hearts, her beauty would have robbed me of them all. I stood up and asked her, ‘Fairest of damsels, who are you, and from what cause do you dwell in this solitude?’--‘I am a fairy,’ she replied, ‘and this mountain is my residence: I have long wished to see one of the human race such as you are, and this day the desire of my heart has been realized.’ I became so fascinated with the charms of this fairy angel, that I lost all thoughts of my caravan, my home, my merchandise, and myself. She smiled so irresistibly that she entangled my heart in the fetters of her ringlets.

“After I had lived three months in the enjoyment of her society, I one day said to her, ‘Why should we thus spend our lives in solitude? It would be better for us to remove to the city, and pass our time in the midst of new pleasure.’ To this the fairy replied, ‘If such is your wish, I am satisfied; and I will accompany you as soon as I can get permission to quit this place. Meanwhile I must leave you for a short time, and you must not stir hence till my return; remain underneath this same tree till I rejoin you, when we shall set out together for your city.’ I then said to her, ‘How long will you be absent?’--‘Within seven days,’ she answered, ‘I shall certainly return; and, I repeat, beware of moving hence till I come, otherwise you will have cause to repent.’

“It is now seven years since the fairy left me, and on account of her injunctions and my promise, I durst not, during that period, go away anywhere, lest in my absence my beloved should have returned, and not finding me here, she should have cause to be angry with me. But, in fact, my strength is now so reduced that I cannot proceed in search of her, having lived for so long a time on the leaves of trees and water from the fountain. I may verily say, that to me _the earth is hard, and the heavens are far off_; I cannot stay, and I dare not go. Many people like yourself have come to me, and on hearing my history have gone their way; and on that account I disregarded your inquiries.”

When the young man had finished his tale, Hatim said to him, “Pray, sir, what is your name?”--“I am called Tamim of Kharzim,” was the reply. “Did the fairy,” rejoined Hatim, “mention to you her name and place of abode?”--“Her name,” replied the other, “is Alkanpari, and her residence is the mountain Alka.”--“When she left you,” continued Hatim, “in what direction did she proceed?”--“She walked to the right,” answered the youth; “but very soon I lost sight of her, and I know not whither she went.”--“Well,” said Hatim, “if you really wish to see that fairy again, come with me, and we shall set off together to the mountain of Alka, and endeavor to find her out.”--“Your proposal is fair,” answered the youth; “but if I depart with you, and during my absence the mistress of my heart should happen to come here, she will return disappointed; my journey will then be of no avail, and I shall not obtain the object of my wish. If it be destined for me to meet with her, it must be in this spot; and if otherwise, I am willing to sacrifice my life for her beloved sake.”

When Hatim heard this, tears of pity flowed from his eyes, while he thus addressed the young man: “My good friend, I will myself go to the mountain of Alka, and should it please the Almighty Creator, I shall find out that beautiful fairy, and either cause her to return to you, or bring her hither in person: I will depart immediately while you remain here, and when I have discovered the dwelling-place of Alkanpari, I will return.”--“Noble sir,” said the youth, “I have never yet seen any one who would abandon his own affairs in order to serve others; why should you be an exception to this rule? Go then and follow your own business.”--“Mistake me not, young man,” said Hatim, “I have devoted my life and property to the service of my fellow-creatures, and so far as either of them may be of use, I am ready to assist the distressed. Be assured, sir, that I speak sincerely; I have made a vow to God always to speak the truth; trust me, then, and remain here till I return.”

The young man promised that he would not leave that spot; and Hatim bidding him farewell, recommended him to the care of God, and departed. He proceeded in the direction which the fairy had gone, and for the whole of that day had his eyes bent towards the top of the mountain; but he no sooner approached the summit, than another still higher appeared beyond it. He passed onwards to the higher mountain, which he began to ascend. Its sides abounded with evergreen trees and shady groves. At length he came to a spot overshadowed by four aged and wide-spreading trees, underneath which were placed seats neat and clean. Hatim reclined on one of these couches, and as the breezes were cool and refreshing, he soon fell asleep. In the midst of his slumbers four fairies came and sat down beside him, and when they discovered that the sleeper was one of Adam’s race, they said one to another, “How has this young man found his way hither? Let us question him as to the object of his journey.”

One of the four fairies having awaked Hatim, said to him, “Pray, tell us, young man, how have you arrived here, and on what account are you come?” Hatim opened his eyes, and on seeing the fairies, replied, “I have travelled hither, under the guidance of my Creator, in search of Alkanpari, who resides in the mountain of Alka. That beautiful fairy has captured the heart of a youth by name Tamim, whom she one day left underneath a tree, promising to return in the course of seven days; and, lo! the youth has waited there seven years in expectation of her. The miserable man is now in the agonies of death; and I am going to expostulate with the fairy for her cruelty and insincerity; for to make a promise and not to fulfil it, is a proceeding unbecoming the noble.”

To this the fairies replied, “Alkanpari is sovereign of the mountain Alka; how is it possible that she could have pledged herself to hold an interview with one of your race? In truth, you are mad to say so, and it is our duty to put you to instant death.”--“If such be my fate,” returned Hatim, “I am resigned.” The fairies relenting, said to him, “If you will pass some days in our society, and entertain us with your conversation, we shall conduct you to the mountain of Alka.”--“I agree,” said Hatim, “particularly as I have no other resource, and the success of my present journey must depend upon you.” The fairy damsels then presented him with food, and treated him most hospitably with every kind of eatable that he could desire. When the stipulated period had elapsed, Hatim requested to be conducted on his way by his fair entertainers, who readily accompanied him during the space of seven days, and then took leave, saying, “Beyond this spot we dare not advance: you must hold by the path towards the right hand till you come in sight of a mountain at the foot of which there are two roads; but there you must again take that which leads to the right, and you will thereby arrive at the mountain of Alka.”

Hatim bade adieu to his guides, and proceeded on his journey towards the mountain. In a month after he came to the place where the road branched into two, and as the shades of the night were falling, he there sat down, in order to rest till day. When a watch of the night had elapsed, his ear was struck with a voice of sorrow that issued from the surrounding desert. He raised his head and as he listened to the mournful sounds, he thought within himself, “Oh, Hatim! thou hast devoted thyself to the service of thy Creator; and now, when the voice of distress pierces thy ear, why dost thou hesitate to administer relief? What will be thy answer hereafter in the presence of the great Judge?” With these reflections he speedily arose and proceeded to the left, in the direction of the voice. The whole night he continued to advance, but no one could he find; and when it was day, he sat down and rested till darkness again overspread the earth, when the same lamenting voice reached his ears. He started up, and continued his pursuit till at the dawn of day he arrived at a solitary spot, where he beheld a comely youth with his feet bare and his head uncovered, bitterly weeping and lamenting.

Hatim addressed the young man, saying, “My friend, how came you to be alone in this wilderness, whose echoes resound to your cries; and who has sent you hither?” The youth in tears replied, “Generous sir, I am by profession a soldier, and lately quitted my home in quest of service. On my journey I happened to lose my way, and on coming to a certain city, I asked the inhabitants, ‘What is the name of this city, and who is its sovereign?’ One of them told me, ‘This is the capital of Musahhir, the magician’; on hearing which, I became terrified, and immediately fled. After I had ridden the distance of a farasang from the city, I came to a garden, whose beauty charmed my heart; and dismounting from my steed, I entered this terrestrial paradise. I had not advanced more than three steps within the garden, when I beheld troops of damsels fair as Houris and clothed in splendid apparel. I then discovered that I was in the garden of the residence of the women, and reflecting that it was highly improper for me to enter such sacred precincts, I began to retrace my steps the way I came.

“When the women saw me, one of them ran and told her mistress that a young man was about to walk in the garden, but on discovering his mistake, had retired. On hearing this, the lady, who was none other than the daughter of Musahhir the magician, instantly sent me a message requesting my attendance. I went, and the moment I beheld her fair countenance I became like one beside himself, and grew so faint that I had to lay hold of the garden gate for support. Her attendants seized me by the hands and conducted me to the midst of the garden, where I was seated upon a couch beside the magician’s daughter. This lady received me so kindly, and smiled so sweetly, that my heart was pierced with love. Bewildered, I contemplated her beautiful form as she sat by me.

“Meanwhile, who should arrive at the garden door but her father the magician; and when he saw my horse, he asked whose it was, and being informed of the whole affair by the attendants, he entered, foaming with rage. When he beheld his daughter engaged in conversation with me, he seized her by the neck, and was about to dash her against the ground, but the lady appealed to his sense of justice, as she was not guilty of any impropriety, and begged of him first to make the strictest inquiry, and then inflict punishment, if due. The father checked his anger and withdrew his hands, when in the meantime the nurse addressed him, saying, ‘Oh, king! your daughter is now of age, and amongst your subjects there is none worthy of being her husband. The stranger you see here is just arrived: he seems of noble rank, and an honorable man; it were better, then, that you give him your daughter in marriage, for you will thus secure a noble successor. If, however, you put to death these two, who are perfectly free from crime, you will, on the one hand, set a ruinous example to your people; and, on the other hand, you will stain yourself with the blood of the innocent.’

“On hearing this, Musahhir the magician said, ‘Daughter, what think you of this proposal?’ The damsel replied, ‘As yet I have not been seen by any stranger, and as this traveller has happened to see me unveiled, I am willing to accept him.’--‘Be it so,’ said her father; ‘but I have three conditions, and that man alone who can comply with them shall receive my daughter.’ I then ventured to address the magician, saying, ‘In that case I am ready to do whatever you command me.’ The magician then conducted me to his capital, and admitted me into his hall of audience. He then summoned the grandees of his dominions, in whose presence he thus stated to me the three conditions on which I was to receive his daughter:

“‘The first condition is, that you will procure me a pair of the animals called parīrū.’

“‘The second is, that you will bring me the muhra, the pearl which is in the mouth of the red dragon.’

“‘And the third is, that you will cast yourself into a large cauldron full of boiling oil, and see if you can come out unhurt.’

“To each of these I agreed, and immediately quitting the city, I wandered hither, where I am now exhausted with hunger and thirst, and pierced through the heart with the darts of the glances of a Houri. I am not able to return to my own country, and no friend has yet visited me by whose aid I might fulfil the conditions of the magician, and thus become entitled to the hand of his daughter; in this desert I have constantly strayed, weeping and lamenting, since the time I left the city, which is now a period of two years.”

On hearing this statement, Hatim said to the young man, in condoling language, “Be of good cheer, for God willing, I will perform these three conditions for you, and put you in possession of your mistress.” He then remembered the circumstance of the jackals that had procured him the head of the pariru from the desert of Mazanderán, and resolved to set out thither immediately. In short, Hatim took leave of the youth, and set out on his journey to Mazanderán. In the course of a few days he came to a certain city, around which, along the walls and ditches, the inhabitants had laid piles of dried wood, which they kept burning.

Hatim, surprised, asked them what was the cause of this conflagration. “If,” said one of them, “we do not keep this fire constantly burning all around our outward walls, a monstrous demon will enter our city and devour us.”--“Pray,” said Hatim, “what like is this evil being that so annoys you?”--“He is a large animal,” replied they, “frightful beyond description, and when he comes he devours three or four of our people at a time.” Hatim, on hearing this, began to consider how it would be practicable to free them from this calamity, and in the meantime he went to take some repose in the caravanseraï.

He then caused a pit to be dug outside the city in the open plain, which he fenced round with bushes of thorn and piles of wood, and furnishing himself with a bow and quiver full of arrows he took up his post in that ambush about sunset. When about a watch of the night had passed, the approach of the monster was indicated with a noise like that of a tempest. When this formidable beast came nearer, he saw that it had eight feet and seven heads, of which six were like those of lions, and the remaining head resembled that of an elephant. The elephant head was situated in the middle, and had three eyes.

When Hatim was leaving the city, the inhabitants had given him a description of the monster, which he now found to be quite correct. They further told him that this terrific beast was vulnerable only on the middle eye of the elephant head, and if it were possible to hit that eye with an arrow, it would be the means of removing this calamity, for then the monster would run off, and never approach a human abode. Meanwhile the inhabitants hearing him advance, kindled their fires all around the city, which became completely covered with a thick cloud of smoke. The monster moved round the walls, and continued to roar with all his mouths so loud that the city shook to its foundation. At length he approached the spot where Hatim lay concealed, and when the latter observed him, he placed his trust in Providence, and seizing his bow he took a deliberate aim at the central eye on the elephant head, and pierced it with an arrow.

The monster reeled and fell with a crash upon the earth, and raised such a roar that the city and the desert shook far and wide. He shortly after started up, and fled so swiftly towards the wilderness that he never looked behind him. Hatim spent the whole night without the walls, and when the dawn of morning appeared he reëntered the gates. The people crowded round him, and asked whether he had seen the demon. He answered, “I have expelled him from your territories.”--“How,” said they, “can we be certain of that?”--“You may soon satisfy yourselves on that score,” replied Hatim; “this night you can watch on the walls and battlements of the city, and if you hear his sound, then shall you consider me a teller of falsehood; if, on the other hand, the sound shall not be heard, you will be convinced of my veracity.” To this they agreed and acted accordingly, and when the night was over and all well, they returned to Hatim and prostrated themselves at his feet, and conveyed him in triumph to the residence of their governor, who received him with the utmost courtesy and respect, seating him by his side, and treating him with boundless hospitality. The people of the city, and particularly the governor, speedily brought all their wealth in cash and valuable effects, and offered it to Hatim, who said to them, “I am a poor traveller, and I am not the least desirous of such wealth as you offer me.” They requested him to accept of their bounty, and do with it what he thought proper.

Hatim accepted the gold and property which they thus pressed upon him, and bestowed the whole of it on the fakirs, and poor people of the city. He then took leave of the inhabitants, and set out on his journey to Mazanderán. As he was journeying onwards, he saw a black snake in deadly contest with a weasel. He stood for some time looking on, while neither of the animals seemed to have the advantage. At length he shouted, “Vile reptiles! what is the cause of this deadly contest between you?” The snake replied, “My opponent here has slain my father.” The weasel added, “Snakes are the natural food of my species, and therefore I killed his father, and will kill him also, that I may eat him.” Hatim addressed the weasel, saying, “If flesh be thy desire, say the word, and I shall give it thee from off my own body”; and to the snake he said, “If revenge be thy object, slay me instead of the weasel.” Both of them, on hearing this, ceased from their struggle. The weasel said to Hatim, “As you have offered me your flesh, give it me.”--“What part of me,” asked Hatim, “do you desire?”--“Your cheek,” replied the weasel.

Hatim seized a knife, and was about to cut off the flesh from his cheek, when the weasel cried, “Desist, young man, I merely did this to try your firmness, and now I am convinced of your generosity.” Immediately both of them assumed the appearance of men. When Hatim saw this, he asked, “My friends, what wonderful occurrence is this?” The weasel replied, “We are both of us of the race of the genii, and I confess I have slain his father; but the reason is, that I fell desperately in love with the old man’s daughter, and he refused his assent to our marriage. The brother, as you see, bears deadly hatred towards me, and I must kill him in self-defence.” Hatim, addressing the genii, recommended to them peace and amity on both sides, and proffered that each should marry the other’s sister. The genius that had been in the form of a weasel replied, “My father, who is king of the genii, will never agree to such a proposal.”--“Let me be shown to his presence,” requested Hatim, “and I may induce him to be satisfied.”--“Follow me, then,” said the genius, “and you shall soon be in my father’s court.” After they had thus walked together for some distance, they arrived at a spacious city, where the prince told Hatim, “This is my father’s capital. I must part with you here, in order to proceed to my own residence; but my attendants will take you by the hand, and conduct you to my father’s presence.”

Troops of genii approached Hatim accordingly, and ushered him before their sovereign, whose name was Mahyūr. When his Majesty saw Hatim, he said to him, “Stranger of the race of Adam, what important affair has brought you into my capital?”--“I have come,” said he, “for promoting peace and friendship.”--“How,” rejoined the king, “can any of the human race act so friendly a part towards the genii, and what is the nature of this service with which you are to favor us?”--“You have a son,” continued Hatim; “may I ask whether you wish his life to be spared, or are resolved on his death?”--“Truly,” replied Mahyur, “I have a son, but what then?”--“If you love him,” said Hatim in return, “follow my advice, and his life may be saved; otherwise death will soon overtake him.”--“May the divine favor be upon you,” rejoined the king of the genii; “tell me what is the matter, that my son is in danger of his life.”--“He has slain the father of a certain youth named Bahram,” said Hatim, “and the latter bears hatred towards him on that account, and will certainly slay him: to-day I saw them in deadly contest, and your son’s life would have been short indeed had I not parted them. Another day they will again meet, and the result will be fatal; but if you obey my directions, I may be the means of establishing peace between them. The case is this: your son is enamoured of Bahram’s sister, and has slain her father because he refused his consent to their union; on the other hand, Bahram is in love with your daughter. It is requisite then, in order to do away all grounds of hatred, that you bestow your daughter on Bahram, and induce his sister to marry your son.”

Mahyur expressed satisfaction with Hatim’s proposal; and accordingly summoned his son and Bahram into his presence, where Hatim succeeded in making them friends. When each of the lovers was in possession of his mistress, Hatim went to take leave of Mahyur, who said to him at parting, “Brave sir! accept of something from us as a reward for your kindness.”--“I have never yet taken a reward,” replied Hatim, “for discharging the duties of humanity.”--“Generous Hatim!” rejoined the king of the genii, “accept from me this staff as a token of esteem; it may be of use to you. When you hold it erect in your hand, it becomes possessed of some rare qualities; for instance, if a serpent or scorpion sting you, the venom shall have no effect, and the fire shall have no power over you. If any one assail you with magic, turn round the staff, and the enchantment will be of no avail. In particular, the poison of the red dragon can have no power over you. Accept at the same time this talisman, and whenever you behold a serpent, whether red, or black, or green, or white, place the talisman in your mouth, and you will be safe. Again, when you come to a river, throw the staff into the water, and it will instantly become a boat.”

Hatim having taken the talisman and the staff, bade adieu to the king of the genii, and proceeded on his journey to Mazanderán. Advancing day and night, he arrived at the banks of a large river. While standing upon the shore he beheld the waves rising to the clouds, and by their buffeting lashing the stars of heaven. He looked in all directions for a place where he might cross; and when he was in this consideration, he recollected the staff presented to him by Mahyur the king of the genii. He immediately seized it in his right hand, and threw it amidst the billows, whereupon the staff was changed into a boat, in which he embarked and began to make his way across. After he had sailed about half way, a huge nihang espied him, and ran off with himself and his boat. Hatim resigned his soul to the will of fate, and was waiting the result with patience, till at length after they had traversed the deep for the space of seven farasangs, his feet rested on firm ground. There he opened his eyes, and was surprised on hearing the nihang address him in eloquent language, thus: “Oh, Hatim! I have brought thee into this place that thou mightest render me justice.” Hatim said, “What justice do you require?” To this the nihang replied, “The crab has unlawfully deprived me of my place of residence: my wish is that you will put me in possession of what is my right.” Hatim rejoined, “Is it possible that the crab is more powerful than you?” To this the nihang replied, “Sluggish as he may appear, he is able to crush me into pieces between his claws; at present he is abroad somewhere in quest of food, and I have in the meantime brought you hither.”

Hatim humbly placed his reliance on his Creator, well aware that of himself he could do nothing; when, lo! the crab, which was of immense size, made his appearance, whereupon the nihang immediately fled. The crab slowly approached; and when he saw the flight of the nihang, he raised such a noise as shook the earth, so that Hatim himself was terrified, and devoutly prayed that Providence might deliver him from the evil that threatened him. He speedily took in his hand the charmed staff presented to him by Mahyur, on beholding which, the crab remained still where he was. Hatim then addressed the monstrous animal, saying, “Know you not that the oppressor shall fall by his own deceit? Why then do you injure the nihang? Is there not room sufficient for both of you in this river, that you should forcibly take possession of another’s residence?” To this the crab replied, “The nihang and I are of the same genus, what then has one of the human race to say in any contention that may take place between us?”--“There is some truth in your statement,” said Hatim, “but all creatures have their being from God, who delighteth in justice and punisheth the oppressor: if you fear him then, injure not a fellow-creature.”--“Well,” replied the crab, “at present I shall quit this place, rather than argue the point with you; but I shall meet the nihang on some future day, when you are not at hand to lend your aid.”--“Assuredly you are a mischievous animal,” rejoined Hatim; “but if you value your own life, abandon this place forever.” The crab, on hearing this, rushed upon Hatim, and was about to seize him in his claws; but he struck him such a blow with the charmed staff of the genius that his attack was rendered fruitless. The monstrous animal turned and fled; and the nihang, taking courage, began to pursue him, whereupon Hatim called out, “Desist, for to pursue him now is cowardly, as his weapons are powerless; he will never hereafter annoy you, and if you oppress him I shall put an end to your days.”

Hatim having settled the plea between the two inhabitants of the deep, threw down his staff, which turned into a boat wherein he embarked, and reaching the opposite shore of the water, he continued his journey to Mazanderán. At length he arrived in that extensive wilderness, and reclining in the shade of a tree he began to consider what would be the best way of procuring the pariru. When the darkness of night had fallen around him, several of these birds, that had been abroad in search of food, came and perched upon the tree, and began to converse among themselves: “Our solitary abode is visited by a man, Hatim ben Taï; the object of his journey is to relieve the distressed: what then are we to do?” All of them concurred in saying, “Hatim is a man of the noblest disposition, and he must not leave us in disappointment.” Having formed this resolution, the birds assembled around Hatim, and in humble posture began to embrace his feet. When he saw their wonderful form, he was highly astonished; for each of them resembles an angel in beauty of countenance. Fascinated with the charms of their fairy faces, he could not avoid exclaiming, “Gracious heaven! how inscrutable are thy decrees, who hast formed such creatures with bodies like those of birds, and countenances fair as the Houris of paradise.”

Meanwhile the strange creatures, addressing Hatim in sweet flowing language, said to him, “Oh, Hatim! may the fame of your generosity be eternal; you have subjected yourself to toils and perils for the sake of others. We know the cause of your journey hither: a certain youth has become enamoured of the magician’s daughter; the father gives his consent on certain conditions, one of which is, that he may have a pair of our species, and you, regardless of danger, have come hither on that account.”--“You say truly,” replied Hatim, “and if you will allow me to take a pair of your young, it will be doing me the highest favor; and it will also promote the suit of the despairing lover.” They deliberated among themselves, saying, “Those of us that are fully grown cannot be expected to go with this man: who is it, then, among us that will present him with a pair of young ones? It will be a service acceptable to God.”

Here one of the pariru birds said to Hatim: “Lo, I myself will give you a pair of my own young, for the sake of that Being who bestoweth all things; accept them, and take them with you wherever you please.” Hatim joyfully received the young birds; and having passed the night in that desert, he early next morning took leave of these wonderful creatures, and began to retrace his way to the capital of the magician. In the course of time, after he had traversed mountains and deserts innumerable, he arrived at the spot where the young soldier still lingered; and having presented to him the pariru birds, he said, “Rejoice, my friend, for here you see what will fulfil one of the magician’s conditions.” When the youth beheld the birds, he prostrated himself in ecstasy at Hatim’s feet, saying, “My generous benefactor! let us now proceed with these beautiful birds, and present them to the magician.” Both of them set out accordingly, and by the way Hatim related to his friend the occurrences of his journey, and the situation of the desert of Mazanderán; and having handed to him the pariru birds, he desired him to go himself and deliver them to Musahhir, and mention nothing of having been assisted in procuring them.

When they entered the city, Hatim stopped at a caravanseraï, and the youth proceeded with the birds, and delivered them to the magician, who was much surprised in seeing them, and questioned him, saying, “Young man, is this your own doing? If so, tell me truly in what part of the world are such birds to be found?” The youth, without hesitation, replied, “In the desert of Mazanderán.” The magician then asked him various particulars about the road thither, all of which he was enabled to answer satisfactorily from what Hatim had told him. “You are right,” said the magician: “so much for the first condition. Now procure me the muhra which is in the mouth of the red dragon.” The youth said, in reply, “Let me for one moment view the face of her whom I adore, for otherwise I shall not have even the power of moving.” To this the magician agreed, and sent a message to his daughter, desiring her to hold her head out at the window, and favor her lover with one look. The young man, in transports, presented himself under her window, and the lady leaning out her head as permitted, cheered him with her smiles. After they had viewed each other with the looks of affection, the youth said, “Now I am about to depart in quest of the muhra which is in the mouth of the red dragon; can you inform me where it is to be found?”--“I have heard,” replied the lady, “that it is in the Red Desert, which is in the regions of the mountain Kaf.”

The youth, on hearing this, took leave of his beloved, and hastened to Hatim, to whom he communicated all that had passed. Hatim comforted him, and said, “Cease your weeping and lamentation, for I will use every exertion for your relief: may God preserve you till my return.” Having thus spoken, Hatim parted with his friend and began his journey to the mountain Kaf. After he had passed many a stage he arrived in a wilderness, where he one day at dawn espied a dragon streaked with the seven colors of the rainbow, and having wings like those of an eagle, with which he hovered over the desert.

On beholding this terrific sight, Hatim stood aghast, while he said in his heart, “I have ere now traversed deserts and mountains like those around me; but such a creature as this I never saw before: I must keep a strict watch on his movements, in order to discover his haunt.” Hatim followed the dragon for the whole of that day, and at eve the winged monster took refuge in the cleft of a rock near which Hatim also rested, resolved to observe the proceedings of so wonderful a creature. In that same neighborhood there was a village, the inhabitants of which were then coming out for water to a fountain close by the rock. When they saw Hatim, they discovered that he was a stranger, and hospitably offered him bread and water, on which he fared; and on their inviting him to their village, he said he preferred resting for the night beneath a tree close by.

Meanwhile the people returned to their dwellings, leaving their cows and flocks at pasture on the verdant plain that lay at the foot of the rock, where the shepherds also remained to tend them for the night. At the end of the first watch, however, the winged serpent issued from his haunt, and rushing upon the cattle, speedily killed them all, one after another, with his venomous sting. Nor did his devastation there stop, for on the same night he destroyed two troops of horses belonging to a caravan that had halted at the fountain. When Hatim saw this dreadful ravage he wrung his hands in agony, but lo! the dragon, still thirsting for blood, approached the tree where he stood and in an instant stung to death those who watched the caravan, and the shepherds that were in attendance; after which, he again vanished into the hole in the rock.

Hatim spent the remainder of the night in a state of sorrow and amazement; and when the dawn of day appeared, the villagers came out to look after their flocks, but to their astonishment they beheld the plain strewed with the dead bodies of the shepherds and the carcases of their cows and horses. So deadly was the venom of this monster, that by the dawn of day the flesh was completely dissolved from off the bones and converted into a liquid of green color. One of the people conveyed the mournful tidings to the village, whereupon all the inhabitants came out crying and weeping. On seeing Hatim they addressed him, saying, “Tell us, stranger, how come you to be here alive, and how has this terrible catastrophe taken place?”--“Alas! my friends,” replied Hatim, “here I have witnessed most horrible deeds, such as I never beheld or heard of in my whole life. A seven-colored dragon, shaped as an eagle, has committed this slaughter, and retired into a hole in the rock, where you may still see him.”

The people gathered round the mouth of the cavern, and on seeing the dragon they were terrified, and said to one another, “Truly such a formidable animal as this we never yet beheld.” Meanwhile the dragon rushed from his hole in the rock, and seizing the chief of the village pierced him with his envenomed sting till he rolled in the dust and bade adieu to life, amidst the shrieks and tears of his friends and attendants. The dragon then winged his way slowly towards the desert, and Hatim followed close after him, in order to see what might happen next. For the whole of that day he continued his pursuit, and when evening was nigh the dragon halted near a large city while Hatim watched him from a short distance. But the dragon had no sooner touched the ground than he was transformed into a black snake, while Hatim stood wrapt in astonishment, anxious to know what would be the result of this change. The black serpent coiled himself into a hole till the end of the first watch of the night, when he issued out and made direct for the city, whither Hatim continued to follow. At length the serpent arrived at the walls of the king’s palace, which he entered by a certain staircase, and ere Hatim could follow, returned by the same passage, and made for another house. In a very short time the serpent came out of the latter house also, and quitting the city retired to his hole. Hatim wondered in his mind who could have been the victims of the scourge for that night. With the morning certainty came, for the cries and lamentations of the people soon informed him that the prince and vizier’s son were in the course of the night stung to death by a serpent, and now lay stretched on the bier, and were being conveyed to their graves.

In the course of the morning the black snake quit his hole, and made off in another direction, Hatim following; nor for the whole day did he cease his pursuit, till towards night the serpent came to the bank of a river, where he assumed the form of a lion. It happened that close by there was a village, the inhabitants of which, to the number of ten or twelve, were proceeding, one after the other, to the river to draw water, among them a most comely youth of the age of sixteen. This youth, the flower of the village, the lion seized as his victim, and having torn him to pieces, he again made for the desert, where, to Hatim’s utter amazement, he was transformed into a beautiful damsel of fourteen years of age. When Hatim beheld the damsel, he said in his heart, “May heaven protect me! I wonder what is to happen next.”

The damsel in an instant arrayed herself in splendid apparel and costly jewels, and, resembling the full moon in beauty, sat down underneath a tree by the wayside. It happened that shortly after, two brother soldiers, natives of China, who having completed their stipulated period of service were returning loaded with wealth to their own country, passed that way, and on seeing them the damsel began a most piteous lamentation. When this voice of sorrow reached their ears, the elder of the two brothers approached the tree, and to his astonishment there beheld the most beautiful of women deeply affected with grief. The soldier thus addressed the damsel: “Fairest of women, what calamity has befallen thee that thou art thus forsaken to weep and lament in the solitary desert?”--“I am,” replied the damsel, “the wife of a villager: a few days ago I had gone on a visit to my mother’s house, and in returning home along with my husband we lost our way in this wilderness, where I have since wandered. I have not been able to find the way back to my mother’s house, nor do I know in what direction to proceed in quest of my husband or of my own home. Whither my husband is gone heaven only knows; and now what is to become of me, and how am I to live?” The brave soldier, on hearing this sad detail, said to the young woman, “If I were to offer myself as your husband, would you accept me?”--“If you will agree to my three conditions,” answered the damsel, “I will give you my hand. The first condition is, that you shall have no other wife than myself[b3.01]; the second, that I will be exempt from all household services; and the third is, that you are not to reprimand me for anything I may choose to do.” To this the soldier agreed, saying, “I am as yet unmarried, and I promise to comply with all your conditions. While I live I shall have no other wife but you; and in my house there are slaves male and female in abundance, so that you will have no trouble with the household affairs, except to give orders for whatever you wish. Your last condition I believe is superfluous; is it possible that any man can speak harshly to her whom he loves?” The damsel, on hearing this, replied, “Enough, I will accept you as my husband,” and accordingly they joined hands; after which the soldier mounted his steed, and taking up his new wife behind him, departed. Hatim followed, in order to see the end of these strange occurrences; and when they had gone some distance, the woman said to her husband, “I am quite exhausted with hunger and thirst, having tasted no food for the last three days; if you have nothing eatable with you, at least let me have a drink of water.” The soldier dismounted, and having caused his wife to alight, he seated her under the shade of a tree, and he took a pitcher, and went in search of water.

* * * *

When the woman arrived at the village, she assumed the form of a buffalo; and the people attempting to seize her, she slew several of them with her hoofs and horns, and again fled towards the desert.

Filled with wonder, Hatim closely followed this mysterious being, and when arrived in the midst of the desert, lo! the buffalo was transformed into a venerable old man with a white beard. On seeing this last change, Hatim resolved to accost the old man, and ask him the hidden cause of his evil deeds, and why he delighted in working such havoc among God’s creatures. He accordingly made up to him at a rapid pace, and stood by his side. The aged man turned and said, “Speak, Hatim, whatever you wish to say.”--“Venerable sir,” replied Hatim, “how came you to know my name?”--“If that be all,” replied the old man, “I know the name of every individual in your tribe; but at present, if you have any question to ask me make haste, for I have much business in hand, and my time is precious.”

Hatim, without more delay, said to him, “Mysterious being! I first beheld you in the shape of a dragon, when you filled with sorrow a whole village; you afterwards assumed the form of a black snake, when you laid in the dust the son of the king and that of his minister; again, you transformed yourself into a lion, and tore to pieces a youth the most elegant of form; you then became a beautiful damsel of the age of fourteen, and by your perfidy caused the death of two brothers; your next step was to adopt the shape of a buffalo, and you slew the people of the village; you now appear an aged man: tell me, for heaven’s sake, what are you, and whither are you going?” The old man, with a haughty smile, replied, “What does all this concern you? Follow your own business: you also I shall yet visit in some shape or other, and your death will be the consequence.”

Hatim persisted, saying, “I will never quit my hold of your skirt till you clear up to me this mystery.”--“Know, then,” said the old man, “that I am the angel of death; the first day you saw me in the shape of a dragon, it was the decree of the Almighty that those men and beasts that were my victims should meet their death by that means. Providence had foreordained that the young prince and the son of the minister should die by the sting of a serpent, and I accordingly assumed the form of a serpent. I became a lion, and slew the beautiful youth; such was his fate. As to the two brothers, they were destined to leave their homes and serve abroad, and after a certain period, when they had earned and amassed some money, it was ordained that they should proceed on their return to their own country, and in the course of their journey that they should kill one another on account of a woman; I therefore assumed the form of a woman to fulfil the divine decree. In the village where you last saw me, it was the lot of the people whom I slew to fall by a buffalo; I therefore became a buffalo on that occasion. Be you assured, oh, Hatim! that it is not in the power of one man to slay another; but in whatever way a man’s fate is decreed, by that means only he loses his life.” Hatim, on hearing this, asked the angel of death, “Tell me truly what fate is ordained for me?” The aged man replied, “Suffice it to say that more than half your life-time is yet to pass.”--“But,” rejoined Hatim, “may I not learn from you the whole truth?”--“Know, then,” replied the king of terrors, “that when you have attained the age of two hundred years, you shall fall by the hand of Omnipotence. A stream of blood shall flow from your nostrils, by which you will experience some slight pain, and afterwards for a short time recover. In that period your hand shall be stretched out as usual in deeds of charity to your fellow-creatures; and shortly after, the flux of blood shall again issue from your nostrils, and thus you shall die. Meanwhile a long life is before you; go on, then, and shrink not from your noble task of relieving the sorrows and promoting the happiness of mankind.”