Chapter XIV: Part 14

During the absence of Giondar, the two princes experienced the most burning thirst, brought on by the fear of death, which they felt, notwithstanding their manly and generous resolution to submit to the cruel order of their father. Prince Amgiad then observed to his brother that they were not far from a spring of water, and proposed to him to unbind themselves and go and drink. “It is not worth the trouble, my brother,” said Assad, “to quench our thirst for the few moments we have to live: we shall have to support it only for a short time longer.” Without, however, paying any attention to this speech, Amgiad unbound both himself and his brother, though against the inclination of the latter. They went to the spring; and when they had thus refreshed themselves they heard the roaring of the lion, accompanied by the most piercing cries, issue from the wood into which Giondar had run after his horse. Amgiad instantly took up the scimitar which Giondar had thrown down. “Brother,” he cried out, “let us hasten to the assistance of the unfortunate Giondar; perhaps we may arrive in time to deliver him from the danger he seems to be in.”

The two princes lost no time; and they arrived at the very instant in which the lion had pulled Giondar down to the ground. No sooner did the animal observe prince Amgiad approaching with his scimitar in his hand, than he let his prey go and ran at him with the greatest fury. The prince waited to receive him with intrepidity and coolness, and gave him a blow, with so much strength and skill, that the lion fell instantly dead at his feet.

As soon as Giondar perceived that he was indebted for his life to the two princes, he threw himself at their feet, and thanked them for the great favor and assistance they had shown him, in a manner that evinced the strongest gratitude. “Princes,” said he to them when he got up, while his tears fell upon their hands, “God forbid, that I should ever attempt to take your lives after the essential help you have afforded me in saving my own. It shall never be said, that the emir Giondar was capable of such black ingratitude.”

“The service we have done you,” replied the princes, “ought by no means to prevent you from executing your orders. Go and take your horse; and let us return to the spot where you left us.” They had now no difficulty in catching the horse, whose alarm and spirit was much abated, and who stopped of himself. In spite, however, of every thing they could urge to Giondar, as they were returning towards the spring, either by entreaty or prayer, they could not persuade him to be the instrument of their death. “The only thing that I take the liberty to ask of you,” said he, “and which I beg you not to refuse, is to accommodate yourselves as well as you can with my clothes between you, and to let me have yours; and then to save yourselves at such a distance, that the king, your father, may never again even hear your names mentioned.”

The princes at length complied with all his wishes; and after having given him both their dresses, they put on as much as he could spare of his clothes. Giondar then obliged them to take whatever money he had about him, and departed.

After the emir had left the princes, he passed through the wood, where he dipped their clothes in the blood of the lion, and then continued his way to the capital of the Isle of Ebony. On his arrival, king Camaralzaman asked him if he had faithfully executed the orders he had received. “Sire,” replied Giondar, presenting the bloody habits of the two princes to him, “behold the proofs.”--“Inform me,” said the king, “in what manner they behaved on suffering the punishment I ordered to be inflicted on them.”--“They received it, sire,” answered Giondar, “with the most exemplary fortitude; and with such perfect resignation to the decrees of God, as fully proved the sincerity of their belief in their religion. Above all, they showed towards your majesty the greatest respect, and most entire submission to your order for their deaths. “We die innocent,” they exclaimed, “but we do not murmur at our fate. We receive our death from the hands of God, and we heartily forgive the king our father. We well know he is ignorant of the truth!” Camaralzaman was sensibly affected at the account given by Giondar. He then thought he would examine the clothes of his sons, and began by feeling in the pockets of Amgiad; where he found a letter, which he opened and read. No sooner did he discover, not only by the handwriting, but by a small lock of hair which was within side, that it came from queen Haiatalnefous, than he absolutely groaned aloud. He then, with trembling hands, examined those of prince Assad, and finding there the letter of queen Badoura, his astonishment had such a violent and sudden effect upon him, that he fainted.

Never did any one show greater signs of grief than did Camaralzaman when he recovered his senses. “What have you been guilty of, O barbarous father,” he exclaimed, “you have even destroyed your own offspring. Innocent sons! could not your sense, your modesty, your obedience, your entire submission to his wishes, nor even your virtues, defend you from his rage? Blind misguided parent, do you think that the earth ought even to bear you after so execrable a crime? I have brought this abomination on myself; and it is the punishment which God has inflicted upon me for not persevering in my hatred against women, which I possessed from my very birth. I will not, ye detestable women, wash away your crime with your blood; no, you are not even worthy of my anger: but may heaven itself pour destruction on my head if ever I see you again!”

The king kept his oath most religiously. He ordered, on the very same day, the two queens to be each conveyed to a separate apartment, where they always remained well guarded; and, during the rest of his life he never went near them.

While Camaralzaman was thus afflicting himself for the loss of the princes, his sons, of which he was himself the cause by his too precipitate conduct, the two princes wandered about the most desert places; endeavouring to avoid every trace of human habitations, for fear of meeting with any living being. They supported themselves upon herbs and wild fruits, and drank only bad rain water, which they found in the excavations and holes of rocks. And when night approached, they slept only by turns, in order to guard against wild beasts.

At the end of about a month, they came to the foot of a dreadfully steep mountain, composed entirely of a sort of black stone, and, as it appeared to them, quite inaccessible. At. length, however, they perceived a path; but they found it so narrow and difficult, that they durst not attempt to pursue it. Through the hopes of discovering another less rugged and steep, they kept coasting, as it were, round the foot of the mountain, for about five days. All the trouble, however, that they took, was to no purpose; and, they were compelled to return to the same path they had at first neglected. It appeared to them so absolutely impracticable, that they took a long time to consult whether they should attempt to ascend it or not. They, at last, encouraged each other, and began to mount.

The farther they advanced the higher and steeper the mountain seemed to be; and they were more than once tempted to abandon their enterprise. As soon as either perceived that the other was tired, he stopped; and they took breath together. Sometimes they were both so fatigued, that all their strength failed them; they then gave up all thoughts of proceeding, and expected to die through weariness, and the consequences of exertion. Then again in a little time, as their strength returned, they acquired fresh courage, animated each other, and resumed their way.

In spite, however, of all their diligence, their perseverance, and their exertions, they were unable to reach the summit while it was day. Night overtook them, and prince Assad found himself so fatigued and worn out, that he suddenly stopped. “My dear brother,” he said to Amgiad, “I can go no farther; but must die in this spot.”--“Let us rest ourselves here,” replied Amgiad, stopping at the same time, “as long as you please, and get fresh courage and strength. You may observe, that we have not much farther to ascend; and the moon will favor our progress.”

After having rested for above half an hour, Assad made a fresh effort; and they arrived at the summit of the mountain, where they again sat down for some time. Amgiad was the first to rise, and going a little forward, he observed a tree at a short distance. He went up, and found it to be a pomegranate-tree, the branches of which were almost borne down with the weight of the fruit. A fountain, or small stream, also washed the foot of the tree. He instantly ran to inform Assad of this good news, and led him to the border of the fountain under the tree. They refreshed themselves very much by eating a pomegranate, and then fell asleep.

The next morning when the princes awoke, Amgiad said to Assad, “Let us proceed, brother, on our way; I see this mountain is much less rugged and steep on this side than it was on the other, and we have now only to descend.” Assad, however, was so fatigued with the labors of the preceding day, that it required at least three days for him entirely to recover. They passed this time in conversation, as they had done on similar occasions; all their discourse, however, constantly related to the excessive and unnatural passions of their mothers, which had reduced them to so deplorable a state. “But,” said they, “if God has declared himself in our favor in so evident a manner, we ought to bear our misfortunes with patience, and to console ourselves with the hope that they will be one day at an end.”

The three days passed away, and the brothers then pursued their journey. As the mountain on this side did not form one regular descent, but was broken by some considerable surface of even ground several times before they could arrive at its base, it took them five days to reach the plain. They at length discovered a large city, the sight of which exceedingly delighted them, “Do you not think, my brother,” said Amgiad to Assad, “that it would be better for you to remain in some place without the town, where, on my return, I shall be able to find you, while I go and learn in what country we are, what is the name of the place, and what language is spoken there? When I come back, too, I will bring some fresh provisions with me. It is, therefore, I think, much the best that we do not go together, in case there should be any danger.”--“I highly approve of your opinion,” replied Assad, “it is both prudent and wise; but, my dear brother, if one of us must separate himself from the other for this purpose, I will never suffer you to be the person; you must permit me to undertake it. What agony should I not endure, were any accident to happen to you!”--“But, brother,” answered Amgiad, “ought not I to fear the very same thing on your account which you do for me? I entreat you, therefore, to suffer me to go; and do you wait patiently for me in this place.”--“I will never permit it,” said Assad, “and if any thing should happen to me, I shall, at least, have the consolation of knowing that you are in safety.” Amgiad was at length obliged to consent, and he sat down under some trees at the foot of the mountain.

Prince Assad took some money out of the purse, of which Amgiad had the charge, and continued his journey to the town. He had not walked far in the first street he came to, before he met with a venerable looking old man, well dressed, and with a cane in his hand. As he did not doubt but that he was a person of some consequence, and, therefore, one not likely to deceive him, he accosted him. “I shall be much obliged to you, sir,” said Assad, “if you will inform me which is the way to the market-place.”

The old man looked at the prince with a smiling countenance, and said to him, “My son, you seem to be a stranger; otherwise surely you would not put that question to me.”--“Yes, sir,” replied Assad, “I am indeed a stranger.”--“You are welcome,” added the old man, “and our country ought to esteem itself highly honored, that a young man of such an appearance as yours, takes the trouble to come and visit it. Pray inform me what business takes you to the public market-place?”--“Sir,” replied Assad, “it is near two months since my brother and I set out from a very distant country. We have been all this time on our journey, and arrived here only yesterday. My brother was so much fatigued with the length of the way, that he remains at the bottom of the mountain, while I am come to inquire about, and purchase some provisions for us both.”

“You could not possibly have arrived, my son,” replied the old man, “more opportunely, and I heartily rejoice at it, from my regard for you and your brother. I have this very day given a great entertainment to many of my friends, and there is a great quantity of provisions left untouched by any one. Come home, therefore, with me, and I will give you abundance to eat, and when you shall have satisfied yourself, I will add as much more as will be sufficient for yourself and brother for many days. You have no occasion, therefore, to take the trouble of going and spending your money in the market; travellers, you know, have seldom too much. Besides, while you are satisfying your hunger, I will inform you of all the peculiarities and customs of our city, which I am better able to do than most people. A person like me, who has been invested with all the most honorable offices with distinction and credit to himself, ought not to be ignorant of them. You may, indeed, think yourself particularly fortunate in having addressing yourself to me, in preference to any other person; for I am truly sorry to say, that all our inhabitants are not like myself; some of them, I assure you, are very wicked. Come then, and I will show you the difference between an honest man, as I am, and those who boast of their character without possessing any qualification to entitle them to a good one.”--“I am infinitely obliged to you,” answered prince Assad, “for the kindness and good intentions you express for me. I put myself entirely under your protection, and am ready to go wherever you please.”

The old man continued walking on, with the prince by his side, laughing in his sleeve all the time; and for fear Assad should perceive it, he conversed with him on many subjects, that he might continue to have the same good opinion of him he at first had formed. Among other things, he said, “I must confess to you, that it is a fortunate circumstance, that you addressed me in preference to any other person. I thank God that I have met you; you will know why I say this so earnestly when you have got to my house.”

The old man at length arrived at home, and introduced Assad into a large room, where he saw forty old men, sitting in a circle, round a lighted fire, to which they were paying their adorations. Prince Assad felt not less horror at thus seeing human beings, so far deprived of their reason, as to offer that reverence to the creature in preference to the Creator, than he experienced fear at seeing himself so deceived, and in such an abominable and wicked place.

While the prince stood quite motionless in the spot where he was, the artful old man, who had brought him, saluted the other forty. “Fervent and devout adorers of fire,” said he to them, “this is a most happy day for us. Where is Gazban?” added he, “let him come in.” As these words were spoken in a loud tone of voice, a black who heard them, without the room, immediately made his appearance. This black, who was in fact Gasban, no sooner perceived the disconsolate Assad, than he understood for what purpose he was called. He ran towards him, and with a blow that he gave him, knocked him down; he then bound his arms with the most surprising quickness. He had no sooner done this, than the old man called out, “Carry him below, and do not fail to tell my daughters, Bostana and Cavama, to take particular care, and give him enough of the bastinado every day, with only one piece of bread night and morning for him to subsist upon. This will be quite enough for his mere existence till the departure of the vessel for the blue sea, and the mountain of fire; we will offer him as a most acceptable sacrifice to our divinity.”

The old man had no sooner given these cruel orders, that Gazban seized Assad in the most rough and brutal manner, and made him go down under the room, and after leading him through several doors, they came to a dungeon, into which they descended by twenty steps, and in which the black fastened him by his legs to a large and very heavy chain. As soon as he had done this, Gazban went to inform the old man’s daughters; their father had, however, already spoken to them himself. “My daughters,” he said to them, “go down below, and bestow the bastinado in the manner you know that every mussulman, whom I make captive, ought to receive it; and do not spare him. You cannot, by any better means, evince, that you are true worshippers of fire.”

Bostana and Cavama, having been brought up with the greatest detestation of all mussulmen, accepted this office with joy. They immediately went down to the dungeon, and having stripped Assad, they beat him so inhumanly, that he was covered with blood, and at last fainted. After this merciless action, they placed a piece of bread and a jar of water by his side, and left him. It was a long time before the prince returned to his senses, and he then only shed torrents of tears, in deploring his miserable fate; consoling himself, however, with the idea, that this misfortune had not happened to his brother Amgiad.

In the mean time, prince Amgiad waited for his brother at the foot of the mountain till sun-set with the greatest impatience. When he found, that one, two, three, and even four hours of the night were gone, and that Assad did not make his appearance, he began to be in the greatest agitation, and even despair. He passed the night in this most distressing and anxious state, and as soon as day appeared, he set out towards the town. He was at first very much astonished at seeing so few mussulmen. He stopped the first he met, and asked him what was the name of the place. He was informed, it was called the city of the Magi, because the Magi, who were idolaters of fire, resided in great numbers in it, and that there were very few mussulmen. He inquired also how far they reckoned it to the Isle of Ebony; when he was told for answer, that by sea it was about four months voyage, and a year’s journey by land. The person, to whom he had addressed himself, after having satisfied him in these particulars, abruptly left him, and continued his road, as he was in haste.

Amgiad, who had not been more than six weeks in coming from the Isle of Ebony with his brother Assad, could not comprehend how they had come so far in so short a time, unless it were by enchantment, or that the road over the mountain which they had traversed was much shorter, though not at all frequented, on account of its difficulty and danger. In walking about the town, he stopped at the shop of a tailor, whom, by his dress, he knew to be a mussulman, as he had also known the former person whom he had accosted. After having made his compliments to him, he sat down and informed him of the cause of the great distress he was in.

When prince Amgiad had finished, the tailor said to him, “If your brother has fallen into the hands of any one of the Magi, you may make up your mind never to see him again. He is gone past recovery; and I advise you to console yourself, and only to endeavour to preserve yourself from the same disgraceful fate. To assist you in this, you may, if you please, remain with me; and I will inform you of all the cunning and artful tricks of the Magi, in order that you may be upon your guard against them, when you go out.” Amgiad was greatly afflicted at the loss of his brother. He accepted the tailor’s offer, and thanked him a thousand times for the kindness he showed him.

This prince did not go out of the house for a whole month except in company with the tailor. At the end of this time he risked going alone to the bath. As he returned, he passed through a street, where he did not see a single person, except a lady whom he met, and who came up to him.

This lady, observing him to be a handsome and well-made young man, and fresh from the bath, lifted up her veil, and asked him with a smiling countenance where he was going; casting at the same time a most enticing glance on him. Amgiad was unable to resist the appearance of so many charms, and in reply said, “I am going to my own house, or to yours, whichever you like best.”--“Sir,” answered the lady, with an engaging smile, “ladies of my rank and disposition never carry men home with them, they only accompany them to their houses.”

Amgiad was in the greatest embarrassment at this answer, which he did not in the least expect. He was afraid of taking the liberty to carry her to the house of his host, who would be much scandalized at it, and he should thus run the risk also of losing his protection, which was so necessary in a town where so many precautions were to be taken. The little experience, also, he had in the town, made him ignorant of any place to which he might carry her; he could not, however, resolve to let his good fortune escape him. In this uncertain state he determined to leave every thing to chance; and without answering the lady a word, he went on, and she followed him.

Prince Amgiad walked on for a long time from street to street, from one cross way to another, and from square to square. They were at last both greatly fatigued with walking so much, when they came down a street, which was terminated by a large door, belonging to a house of considerable appearance, with a bench, or seat, on each side of it. Amgiad sat down on one to take breath, and the lady, even more tired than he, sat down on the other.

“Is this your house?” said she to prince Amgiad, as soon as he was seated.--“You see it is, madam,” replied the prince.--“Why do you not then open the door?” added she, “What do you wait for?”--“My charming creature,” answered Amgiad, “it is because I have not the key. I left it with my slave, to whom I gave some commission; and he is not yet returned from executing it. And as I ordered him after that to go and purchase some provisions for a good dinner, I am afraid that we shall have to wait a considerable time.”

The difficulty in which the prince found himself in thus endeavoring to complete his adventure, began to damp his passion, and make him repent of his enterprise. He therefore made use of that evasive pretence, in hopes that the lady would take offence at it, and in her anger would leave him, to go and seek her fortune in some other place; but he was mistaken. “What an impertinent slave is yours,” said she, “to make you wait thus; I will chastise him myself as he deserves, if you do not punish him well when he comes back. It is not indeed quite the thing for me to remain here alone at the door with a man.” Having said this, she got up, and took a large stone, in order to break the lock, which, according to the custom of that country, was made of wood, and not very strong.

Amgiad knew not what to do, nor how to prevent her intention. “Madam,” he cried, “what are you going to do? Do me the favor to have a little more patience.”--“What are you afraid of?” said she. “Is not the house your own? There is no great harm in breaking a wooden lock; and its place is easily supplied.” She then broke the lock; and as soon as the door was open, she entered and walked on before. When the prince saw the house broken open, he gave himself up for lost. He hesitated whether he should go in, or endeavour to make his escape in order to free himself from a danger which seemed to him to be almost inevitable: and he was on the point of determining upon the latter plan, when the lady came back and found he was not going in. “What are you about,” she said, “that you do not come into your own house?”--“I am looking, madam,” he answered, “to see if my slave is returning; because I am afraid we shall find nothing ready.”--“Come, come,” added she, “we can wait much better within, than standing here in expectation of his arrival.”

The prince, though much against his will, then went into a very large and handsome paved court. From this they ascended by a few steps to a grand vestibule, where both he and the lady perceived a large open room handsomely furnished, and one table set out with numerous excellent dishes; another, covered with a variety of fine fruits; and a sideboard, well supplied with wine. When Amgiad saw these preparations, he no longer doubted that his destruction was near at hand. “It is all over with you, poor Amgiad,” said he to himself: “you will not long survive your dear brother Assad.” The lady, on the contrary, was delighted with this agreeable sight. “What, sir!” she cried, “you were fearful that nothing was ready; and you may now perceive, that your slave has even exceeded his orders, and done more than you thought? But, if I do not deceive myself, these preparations are for some other lady, and not intended for me. Well, never mind; let her come; I promise you, not to be jealous at it. The only favor that I ask of you is, that you will suffer me to wait upon you both.”

Amgiad could not help laughing at the pleasantry of the lady, notwithstanding the melancholy and painful sensations he felt. “Madam,” said he, totally absorbed in the afflicting reflections that preyed upon his mind, “I assure you, that you are much mistaken in your conjectures: this is only my common fare.” As he could not resolve to sit down at a table that had not been prepared for him, he was going to a sofa, but the lady prevented him. “What are you about?” she cried; “after having gone into the bath, you ought to be almost famished with hunger. Come, let us sit down at the table, and eat and enjoy ourselves.”

The prince was obliged to do as the lady liked. They therefore sat down, and began to eat. After the first mouthful or two, she took a bottle and glass, and poured out some wine. She drank the first glass to the health of Amgiad. Having done this, she filled the same glass again, and presented it to the prince, who did the same.

The more he reflected upon the adventure, the more astonished was he at finding not only that the master of the house did not make his appearance, but that not a single domestic was to be discovered, although the house itself was so handsome, and so richly furnished. “My happiness and good fortune will be extraordinary indeed,” said he to himself, “if the master should not make his appearance at all, and I should safely get out of this intrigue.” While these thoughts continued to be uppermost in his mind, as well as others of a more distressing nature, the lady continued to eat and to drink, from time to time obliging him also to do the same. They were already come to the fruit, when the master of the house arrived.

It was, in fact, the master of the horse to the king of the Magi, and whose name was Bahadar. This house belonged to him, but he had another, in which he commonly lived. He only made use of this, to receive three or four chosen friends in, and for this purpose every thing was brought from his other; and this was exactly what had been done that day by some of his people, who had left it only a few moments before Amgiad and the lady came there.

Bahadar himself arrived without any attendants, and in disguise, as was his usual custom, and he came rather before the time on which he had appointed to meet his friends. He was not a little surprised at finding the door of his house forced open. He went in, therefore, without making any noise; and as he heard some people talking and enjoying themselves in the eating room, he crept round by the wall, and put his head half into the room, to see who they were. And as he observed only a young man and a female, who were eating at the table, which had been prepared for himself and his friends, and that the mischief they had done was not so great as he expected, he resolved to divert himself with them.

The lady, who had her back turned towards the door, did not perceive Bahadar; but Amgiad saw him the very first instant, while he was in the act of drinking. At sight of him, he instantly changed colour, and fixed his eyes upon Bahadar, who made him a sign not to say a word, but to come and speak to him. Amgiad drank his glass, and got up. “Where are you going?” inquired the lady. “Remain here a moment, I beg of you, madam,” replied he, “I will be back instantly: a trifling business obliges me to go out.” The prince found Bahadar waiting for him in the vestibule; and they both went down into the court, that the lady might not hear their conversation.

When they were got into the court, Bahadar asked the prince by what means he came with the lady to his house; and why he had forced the door? “Sir,” replied Amgiad, “I must in your eyes appear very much to blame: but if you will have the patience to hear my story, I hope you will be convinced of my innocence.” He then went on, and related to Bahadar, in a few words, every thing as it exactly was, without disguising a single circumstance: and to prove to him that he was unable to commit so disgraceful an action as that of breaking open a house, he did not even conceal from him that he was a prince, or his motives for coming to the city of the Magi.

Bahadar, who was passionately fond of foreigners, was highly delighted at having an opportunity of obliging one of so high a rank and illustrious a quality as Amgiad. In fact, his air, his manners, his chosen and correct conversation, left no doubt of the perfect truth of his account. “Prince,” said he, “I am excessively happy, at thus finding an occasion of obliging you, from so accidental, singular, and pleasant a meeting as the present. So far from disturbing your festivity, I shall take a great pleasure in contributing all in my power to your satisfaction. Before I inform you any further on this subject, I must tell you, that I am master of the horse to the king, and that my name is Bahadar. I have another house, in which I commonly live, and this is the place where I sometimes come to enjoy myself without any ceremony with my friends. You have made your lady believe that you have a slave, though in fact you have none. I will be that slave; and that I may not distress you by this proposal, nor you wish to excuse yourself from having it so, I repeat again to you, that I particularly wish it, and you shall hereafter know my motives for this conduct.

“Go then, and again take your place, and continue to divert yourself; and when, after some time, I shall return, and shall present myself before you, dressed like a slave, quarrel well with me, and do not be afraid even of striking me. I will attend upon you all the time you are at table, and even till night. You shall both sleep here; and to-morrow morning you shall send the lady back in the most honorable manner. After this, I will endeavor to render you some services of greater consequence. Go, then, and lose no time.” Amgiad wished to make some reply, but Bahadar would not suffer it, and compelled him to go back directly to the lady.

Amgiad had scarcely returned to the room where he had left the lady, than the friends whom Bahadar had invited arrived. He requested them, as a favor, to excuse him from entertaining them at that time; giving them to understand, that they would approve of his conduct when they should know the cause, and which they should be informed of the first opportunity. They were no sooner gone, than he went out, and procured the habit of a slave, in which he dressed himself.

The prince rejoined the lady, highly delighted at having thus fortunately stumbled, as it were, upon a house belonging to a person of so much consequence, and one who treated him in this unpleasant situation so kindly. “Madam,” said he, as he again sat down to the table, “I beg you a thousand pardons for my incivility, and the bad humor in which I felt myself on account of my slave’s absence. The rascal shall pay for it well; I will let him see, that he shall not be absent so long a time with impunity.”--“Do not let this disturb you,” replied the lady, “it will only be so much the worse for him. If he commits any faults, he will suffer for it. Trouble yourself no more about him, but let us only think of enjoying ourselves.”

They continued at table with much more pleasure and delight than before, because Amgiad was no longer uneasy at any consequence that might have arisen from the indiscretion of the lady, who ought not to have forced the door, although it had even belonged to Amgiad. He did not now feel himself in a worse humor than the lady herself; and while they continued to drink more than they eat, they amused themselves with saying a thousand pleasant and humorous things, till the arrival of Bahadar, in his disguise.

He came in like a slave, who was much mortified at finding his master with company before he returned. He immediately threw himself at his feet, and kissing the ground, begged his pardon for being so late. And when he got up, he stood still with his hands crossed, and his eyes cast down, waiting for what he was commanded to do. “Impudent fellow,” cried Amgiad, in a tone and manner of voice as if he were in a great passion, “tell me, if there is in the whole world a worse slave than yourself? Where have you been? What have you been about, not to come back till this time of day?”--“My lord,” replied Bahadar, “I entreat your pardon; I am now come from executing the orders you gave me; and I did not think you would return so early.” “You are a rascal,” said the prince, “and I will give you a good beating, to teach you not to tell falsehoods, and be so negligent of your duty.” He then got up, took a stick, and gave him three or four very slight blows, after which he returned to the table.

The lady, however, was not satisfied with this trifling punishment. She got up in her turn, and taking the stick, she beat Bahadar so unmercifully, that the tears came into his eyes. Amgiad was excessively hurt at the liberty which she allowed herself; and the manner in which she had treated one of the first officers of the king. He kept calling out that she had beaten him quite enough, but she nevertheless went on striking him. “Let me alone,” she cried, “I wish to satisfy myself, and teach him not to be absent so long another time.” She continued to beat him with so much violence, that Amgiad was forced to get up, and take the stick out of her hands; which he had some difficulty in doing. When she found she could not longer beat him, she sat down in her place, and kept saying a thousand abusive things to him.

Bahadar dried his tears, and remained standing behind them to pour out their wine. As soon as he saw that they had finished both eating and drinking, he took away all the things, cleaned out the room, put every thing in its proper place; and when night came on, he lighted up the candles. Every time that he went out, or came in, the lady did not fail to scold at, threaten, and abuse him; all of which was done to the great discontent of Amgiad, who would willingly have prevented her, but was afraid of saying a word. When it was the proper time to retire to rest, Bahadar prepared a bed for them upon the sofa, and then went to another apartment, where he, in a very short time, fell asleep through the great fatigue he had undergone.

Amgiad and the lady continued in conversation for at least half an hour longer; and before they retired to rest, the latter having occasion to pass through the vestibule, heard Bahadar, who was already fast asleep, snore very loud. As she had observed that there was a scimitar hanging up in the room where they had been feasting, she went back and said to Amgiad, “I beg of you to do one thing for love of me.”--“What can I do to serve you?” replied the prince.--“Oblige me, by taking this scimitar,” added she, “and go and cut off the head of your slave.”

This proposal excited the greatest astonishment in the prince; and he had no doubt, but that the quantity of wine she had drank was the cause of it. “Madam,” he replied, “let us not regard my slave; he is not worthy of your thoughts: I have punished him, and so have you also; let this be sufficient. Besides, I am very well satisfied with him upon the whole, as he is not in general accustomed to be guilty of these faults.”--“That is of no consequence to me,” replied the enraged female, “I wish the rascal dead, and if he is not to be killed by your hands, he shall by mine.” Having said this, she took up the scimitar, drew it from the scabbard, and ran out, to put her diabolical design in execution.

Amgiad followed and overtook her in the vestibule, “You must be satisfied, madam,” he cried, “since you insist upon it. I am, however, determined, that no one but myself shall kill my slave.” As soon as she had given him the scimitar, he said, “Follow me, and do not make any noise for fear of waking him.” They went into the chamber where Bahadar was; but, instead of aiming the blow at him, Amgiad directed it at the lady, whose head fell upon Bahadar. If the noise made by the action of cutting off the lady’s head would not have disturbed his sleep, the head itself gave him a sufficient blow to rouse him. Astonished at seeing Amgiad standing by him with the bloody scimitar in his hand, and the headless body of the female upon the ground, Bahadar eagerly inquired the meaning of all this. The prince related every thing to him exactly as it had passed, and in conclusion, he added, “To prevent this enraged creature from taking your life, I could discover no other sure method than destroying her own.”

“Sir,” replied Bahadar, impressed with the greatest gratitude, “persons of your rank and generous character are not capable of giving aid to any actions of so wicked a nature. You are my preserver, and I cannot sufficiently thank you.” So great was his sense of the obligation, that he instantly embraced him. “Before the day breaks,” said he, “this body must be carried out. I will undertake to do this.” Amgiad, however, opposed it: and said that he would take that charge upon himself, as he had been the cause of her death. “A stranger in this place, like you, will not be so well able to manage it,” replied Bahadar. “Leave it to me, and do you retire to rest. If I do not return before day-break, you may be assured that the watch has surprised me. For fear this should happen, I will now make over to you, in writing, this house, and all it contains, and you may live here at your ease.”

As soon as Bahadar had written what was sufficient to transfer the house to Amgiad, and had put this deed of gift into his hands, he took the lady’s body and head, and inclosed them in a sack. He then threw it across his shoulders, and walked along, from street to street, towards the sea. He had not, however, proceeded very far, before he encountered the officer of the police, who was going his rounds in person. His attendants stopped Bahadar, and, opening the sack, discovered the body and head of the murdered lady. The magistrate, who knew the master of the horse notwithstanding his disguise, carried him home with him; as he durst not put a person of his high rank and dignity to death, without acquainting the king with it. The next morning, therefore, he took Bahadar into the royal presence. The king had no sooner been informed, from the report of the officer, of this cruel action, which, as appeared from all the circumstances, Bahadar had been guilty of, than he loaded him with abuse. “Is this the way,” he cried, “that you murder my subjects, in order to plunder them, and then throw their bodies into the sea, to prevent the discovery of your tyranny? Let them be freed from such a monster, and hang him.”

Notwithstanding the conscious innocence of Bahadar, he received the sentence of death with perfect resignation, and said not a word in his own justification. The judge reconducted him to prison, and while the gibbet was preparing, he sent criers to publish in all the quarters of the city, the justice, which was going to be executed at noon, on the grand master of the horse, for having committed murder.

Prince Amgiad, who ineffectually waited for Bahadar, was in inexpressible consternation, when he heard the crier proclaiming this sentence from the house in which he was. “If any one is to die for the death of so wicked a woman,” said he to himself, “it is not Bahadar who should suffer, but myself; and I cannot bear that the innocent should be punished for the guilty.” Without further deliberation, he went immediately to the spot, where the execution was to take place; and mingled with the crowd, which was collecting from all parts.

As soon as Amgiad saw the judge make his appearance, leading Bahadar to the gibbet, he went and presented himself before him: “My lord,” said he, “I come to declare to you, and assure you, that the master of the horse, whom you are going to lead to execution, is quite innocent of the death of the lady for which he is to suffer. It was I who committed this crime, if a crime indeed it can be called, to deprive a detestable woman of life, who was on the point of murdering the master of the horse; the thing happened thus.”

When prince Amgiad had informed the judge of the manner in which the lady had accosted him on his coming out of the bath; of her being the cause of his breaking into the house of Bahadar, and of all that had passed, until he found himself obliged to cut off her head to save the life of Bahadar, the judge suspended the execution, and took them both before the king.

The monarch desired to be informed of the whole affair by Amgiad himself; and in order to exculpate himself, as well as the master of the horse the better, he took advantage of the opportunity to relate the whole of his history, together with that of prince Assad, his brother, from the beginning up to the present time.

When the prince had concluded his narrative, the king said to him, “I am very much pleased, prince, that this affair has afforded me the opportunity of becoming acquainted with you: I not only grant you your life and pardon, together with that of the master of the horse, whose good intention towards you I commend and admire, and whom I re-establish in his office; but I also confer on you the dignity of grand vizier, to console you for the unjust, although excusable treatment you have experienced from the king, your father. As for prince Assad, I give you free permission to exercise all the authority you are invested with, to discover where he is.”

After Amgiad had thanked the king of the city of the Magi, and entered into his office of grand vizier, he made use of every method he could devise to find the prince, his brother. He proclaimed, by means of the public criers, in all quarters of the city, the promise of a considerable reward to any one who should bring Assad to him, or even give him information where he might be found. He employed people to make inquiries in all parts; but notwithstanding all his researches, he could obtain no intelligence of him.

Assad, in the mean time, was constantly chained down in the dungeon, where he had been confined through the artifice of the old man; and Bostana and Cavama, his daughters, continued to treat him in the same cruel and inhuman manner. The solemn festival of the idolaters of fire drew near: the vessel, which usually sailed to the mountain of fire, was equipped for that purpose, and a captain, named Behram, who was a zealous promoter of the religion of the Magi, undertook to lade it with merchandise. When it was ready to put to sea, Behram contrived for Assad to be placed in a case half full of merchandise, leaving sufficient space between the planks to admit air for him to breathe; and then had the case let down into the hold of the ship.

Before the vessel set sail, the grand vizier Amgiad, who had been informed that the worshippers of fire made it an annual custom to sacrifice a mussulman on the fiery mountain, and that Assad, who had probably fallen into their hands, might be the destined victim of this bloody ceremony, wished to inspect the vessel. He went in person, and ordered all the seamen and passengers to come on deck, while his people searched the vessel; but Assad was too well concealed to be discovered.

The search being concluded, the ship left the harbour, and when it was in the open sea, Behram took Assad out of his case, but kept him confined by a chain; fearing, that as he was not ignorant of the fate to which he was destined, he might, in despair, throw himself headlong into the sea.

After some days sail, the wind, which had hitherto been favorable, became suddenly contrary; and increased to such a violent degree, that it at length terminated in a furious tempest. The vessel not only lost its track, but Behram and the pilot did not know where they were; and were fearful every moment of dashing on a rock, and going to pieces. During the height of the storm, they discovered land, and Behram knew it to be the situation of the harbour and capital of queen Margiana, which occasioned him great vexation and sorrow.

The fact was, that queen Margiana, who was a mussulman, professed a mortal enmity to the idolaters of fire. She not only did not tolerate one in her dominions, but she would not even suffer any of their vessels to come into her port.

It was, however, totally out of the power of Behram to avoid making for the harbour of this city, unless he had exposed himself to the danger of being cast away on the dangerous rocks which lined the shore. In this extremity, he held a council with his pilot and seamen: “My lads,” said he, “you see the necessity we are reduced to. Of two things we must choose one; we must either be swallowed up by the waves, or take refuge with queen Margiana; but you well know her implacable hatred to our religion, and to all who profess it. She will not fail to seize our ship, and condemn us all to death, without mercy. I see but one remedy, which may perhaps succeed. I propose, that we take off the chains from the mussulman who is with us, and dress him as a slave. When queen Margiana sends for me to appear before her, and asks me what I trade in, I will tell her that I am a merchant who sells slaves, that I have sold all I had, with the exception of one only, whom I have reserved for myself, as a sort of secretary, because he can read and write. She will desire to see him; and as he is well-looking, and moreover is of her religion, she will be moved with compassion for him, and will, no doubt, propose to purchase him of me, on condition, however, that we shall remain in her harbour until the weather is fair. If you can mention a better plan, speak, and I will hear you.” The pilot and seamen applauded it very much, and it was put in practice.

Behram ordered prince Assad’s chains to be taken off; and had him neatly dressed as a slave who was in the office of writer, or secretary, to his ship, in which character he wished him to appear before the queen. Assad was scarcely dressed and prepared for his part, when the vessel entered the harbour, and cast anchor. As soon as queen Margiana, whose palace was situated near the sea, so that the garden extended along the shore, had perceived the ship at anchor in the port, she sent to the captain to come to her; and, that she might the sooner gratify her curiosity, she went to meet him in the garden.

Behram, who expected this summons, went on shore with prince Assad, having first exacted a promise from him, of confirming what he should say of his being a slave and secretary to the ship; they were conducted before the queen, and Behram, throwing himself at her feet, described to her the necessity he had been under of taking refuge in her harbour; he then told her, that he was a merchant dealing in slaves, and that Assad, whom he had brought with him, was the only one remaining; but that he kept him for himself in the capacity of secretary.

Margiana had felt a predilection for Assad from the first moment she cast her eyes on him; and she was delighted to hear that he was a slave. Determined, therefore, to purchase him at whatever price, she asked Assad his name. “Great queen,” replied he, with tears in his eyes, “Does your majesty wish to know the name I formerly bore, or that by which I am now called?”