Chapter III: Part 3

While her mind was in this state of agitation and distress, she perceived the door open, and the next moment ALMORAN entered the apartment. When she saw him, she turned from him with a look of unutterable anguish; and hiding her face in her veil, she burst into tears. The tyrant was moved with her distress; for unfeeling obduracy is the vice only of the old, whose sensibility has been worn away by the habitual perpetration of reiterated wrongs.

He approached her with looks of kindness, and his voice was involuntarily modulated to pity; she was, however, too much absorbed in her own sorrows, to reply. He gazed upon her with tenderness and admiration; and taking her hand into his own, he pressed it ardently to his bosom: his compassion soon kindled into desire, and from soothing her distress, he began to solicit her love. This instantly roused her attention, and resentment now suspended her grief: she turned from him with a firm and haughty step, and instead of answering his professions, reproached him with her wrongs. ALMORAN, that he might at once address her virtue and her passions, observed, that though he had loved her from the first moment he had seen her, yet he had concealed his passion even from her, till it had received the sanction of an invisible and superior power; that he came, therefore, the messenger of heaven; and that he offered her unrivalled empire and everlasting love. To this she answered only by an impatient and fond enquiry after HAMET. 'Think not of HAMET,' said ALMORAN; 'for why should he who is rejected of Heaven, be still the favorite of ALMEIDA?' 'If thy hand,' said ALMEIDA, 'could quench in everlasting darkness, that vital spark of intellectual fire, which the word of the Almighty has kindled in my breast to burn for ever, then might ALMEIDA cease to think of HAMET; but while that shall live, whatever form it shall inhabit, or in whatever world it shall reside, his image shall be for ever present, and to him shall my love be for ever true.' This glowing declaration of her love for HAMET, was immediately succeeded by a tender anxiety for his safety; and a sudden reflection upon the probability of his death, and the danger of his situation if alive, threw her again into tears.

ALMORAN, whom the ardour and impetuosity of her passions kept sometimes silent, and sometimes threw into confusion, again attempted to sooth and comfort her: she often urged him to tell her what was become of his brother, and he as often evaded the question. As she was about to renew her enquiry, and reflected that it had already been often made, and had not yet been answered, she thought that ALMORAN had already put him to death: this threw her into a new agony, of which he did not immediately discover the cause; but as he soon learned it from her reproaches and exclamations, he perceived that he could not hope to be heard, while she was in doubt about the safety of HAMET. In order, therefore, to sooth her mind, and prevent its being longer possessed with an image that excluded every other; he assumed a look of concern and astonishment at the imputation of a crime, which was at once so horrid and so unnecessary. After a solemn deprecation of such enormous guilt, he observed, that as it was now impossible for HAMET to succeed as his rival, either in empire or in love, without the breach of a command, which he knew his virtue would implicitly obey; he had no motive either to desire his death, or to restrain his liberty: 'His walk' says he, 'is still uncircumscribed in Persia, and except this chamber, there is no part of the palace to which he is not admitted.'

To this declaration ALMEIDA listened, as to the music of paradise; and it suspended for a-while every passion, but her love: the sudden ease of her mind made her regardless of all about her, and she had in this interval suffered ALMORAN to remove her veil, without reflecting upon what he was doing. The moment she recollected herself, she made a gentle effort to recover it, with some confusion, but without anger. The pleasure that was expressed in her eyes, the blush that glowed upon her cheek, and the contest about the veil, which to an amorous imagination had an air of dalliance, concurred to heighten the passion of ALMORAN almost to phrensy: she perceived her danger in his looks, and her spirits instantly took the alarm. He seized her hand, and gazing ardently upon her, he conjured her, with a tone and emphasis that strongly expressed the tumultuous vehemence of his wishes, that she would renounce the rites which had been forbidden above, and that she would receive him to whom by miracle she had been alloted.

ALMEIDA, whom the manner and voice of ALMORAN had terrified into silence, answered him at first only with a look that expressed aversion and disdain, overawed by fear. 'Wilt thou not,' said ALMORAN, 'fulfill the decrees of Heaven? I conjure thee, 'by Heaven, to answer.' From this solemn reference to Heaven, ALMEIDA derived new fortitude: she instantly recollected, that she stood in the presence of Him, by whose permission only every other power, whether visible or invisible, can dispense evil or good: 'Urge no more,' said she, 'as the decree of Heaven, that which is inconsistent with Divine perfection. Can He in whose hand my heart is, command me to wed the man whom he has not enabled me to love? Can the Pure, the Just, the Merciful, have ordained that I should suffer embraces which I loath, and violate vows which His laws permitted me to make? Can He have ordained a perfidious, a loveless, and a joyless prostitution? What if a thousand prodigies should concur to enforce it a thousand times, the deed itself would be a stronger proof that those prodigies were the works of darkness, than those prodigies that the deed was commanded by the Father of light.'

ALMORAN, whose hopes were now blasted to the root, who perceived that the virtue of ALMEIDA could neither be deceived nor overborne; that she at once contemned his power, and abhorred his love; gave way to all the furies of his mind, which now slumbered no more: his countenance expressed at once anger, indignation, and despair; his gesture became furious, and his voice was lost in menaces and execrations. ALMEIDA beheld him with an earnest yet steady countenance, till he vowed to revenge the indignity he had suffered, upon HAMET. At the name of HAMET, her fortitude forsook her; the pride of virtue gave way to the softness of love; her cheeks became pale, her lips trembled, and taking hold of the robe of ALMORAN, she threw herself at his feet. His fury was it first suspended by hope and expectation; but when from her words, which grief and terror had rendered scarce articulate, he could learn only that she was pleading for HAMET, he burst from her in an extasy of rage, and forcing his robe from her hand, with a violence that dragged her after it, he rushed out of the chamber, and left her prostrate upon the ground.

As he passed through the gallery with a hasty and disordered pace, he was seen by OMAR; who knowing that he was returned from an interview with ALMEIDA, and conjecturing from his appearance what had happened, judged that he ought not to neglect this opportunity to warn him once more of the delusive phantoms, which, under the appearance of pleasure, were leading him to destruction: he, therefore, followed him unperceived, till he had reached the apartment in which he had been used to retire alone, and heard again the loud and tumultuous exclamations, which were wrung, from his heart by the anguish of disappointment: 'What have I gained,' said he, 'by absolute dominion! The slave who, secluded from the gales of life and from the light of heaven toils without hope in the darkness of the mine, riots in the delights of paradise compared with me. By the caprice of one woman, I am robbed not only of enjoyment but of peace, and condemned for ever to the torment of unsatisfied desire.'

OMAR, who was impatient to apprize him that he was not alone, and to prevent his disclosing sentiments which he wished to conceal, now threw himself upon the ground at his feet. 'Presumptuous slave!' said ALMORAN, 'from whence, and wherefore art thou come?' 'I am come,' said OMAR, 'to tell thee that not the caprice of a woman, but the wishes of ALMORAN, have made ALMORAN wretched.' The king, slung with the reproach, drew back, and with a furious look laid his hand upon his poignard; but was immediately restrained from drawing it, by his pride. 'I am come,' said OMAR, 'to repeat that truth, upon which, great as thou art, thy fate is suspended. Thy power extends not to the mind of another; exert it, therefore, upon thy own: suppress the wishes, which thou canst not fulfill, and secure the happiness that is within thy reach.'

ALMORAN, who could bear no longer to hear the precepts which he disdained to practice, sternly commanded OMAR to depart: 'Be gone,' said he, 'lest I crush thee like a noisome reptile, which men cannot but abhor, though it is too contemptible to be feared.' 'I go,' said OMAR, 'that my warning voice may yet again recall thee to the path of wisdom and of peace, if yet again I shall behold thee while it is to be found.'

CHAP. XIII.

ALMORAN was now left alone; and throwing himself upon a sofa, he sat some time motionless and silent, as if all his faculties had been suspended in the stupefaction of despair. He revolved in his mind the wishes that had been gratified, and the happiness of which he had been disappointed: 'I desired,' said he, 'the pomp and power of undivided dominion; and HAMET was driven from the throne which he shared with me, by a voice from heaven: I desired to break off his marriage with ALMEIDA; and it was broken off by a prodigy, when no human power could have accomplished my desire. It was my wish also to have the person of ALMEIDA in my power, and this wish also has been gratified; yet I am still wretched. But I am wretched, only because the means have not been adequate to the end: what I have hitherto obtained, I have not desired for itself; and of that, for which I desired it, I am not possessed: I am, therefore, still wretched, because I am weak. With the soul of ALMORAN, I should have the form of HAMET: then my wishes would indeed be filled; then would ALMEIDA bless me with consenting beauty, and the splendor of my power should distinguish only the intervals of my love; my enjoyments would then be certain and permanent, neither blasted by disappointment, nor withered by satiety.' When he had uttered these reflections with the utmost vehemence and agitation, his face was again obscured by gloom and despair; his posture was again fixed; and he was falling back into his former state of silent abstraction, when he was suddenly roused by the appearance of the Genius, the sincerity of whose friendship he began to distrust.

'ALMORAN,' said the Genius, 'if thou art not yet happy, know that my powers are not yet exhausted: fear me not, but let thine ear be attentive to my voice.' The Genius then stretched out his hand towards him, in which there was an emerald of great lustre, cut into a figure that had four and twenty sides, on each of which was engraven a different letter. 'Thou seest,' said he, 'this talisman: on each side of it is engraven one of those mysterious characters, of which are formed all the words of all the languages that are spoken by angels, genii, and men. This shall enable thee to change thy figure: and what, under the form of ALMORAN, thou canst not accomplish; thou shalt still be able to effect, if it can be effected by thee, in the form of any other. Point only to the letters that compose the name of him whose appearance thou wouldst assume, and it is done. Remember only, that upon him, whose appearance thou shalt assume, thine shall be imprest, till thou restorest his own. Hide the charm in thy bosom, and avail thyself of its power.' ALMORAN received the talisman in a transport of gratitude and joy, and the Genius immediately disappeared.

The use of this talisman was so obvious, that it was impossible to overlook it. ALMORAN instantly conceived the design with which it was given, and determined instantly to put it in execution: 'I will now,' said he, 'assume the figure of HAMET; and my love, in all its ardour, shall be returned by ALMEIDA.' As his fancy kindled at the anticipation of his happiness, he stood musing in a pleasing suspense, and indulged himself in the contemplation of the several gradations, by which he would ascend to the summit of his wishes.

Just at this moment, Osmyn, whom he had commanded to attend him at this hour, approached his apartment: ALMORAN was roused by the sound of his foot, and supposed it to be OMAR, who had again intruded upon his privacy; he was enraged at the interruption which had broken a series of imaginations so flattering and luxurious; he snatched out his poignard, and lifting up his arm for the stroke, hastily turned round to have stabbed him; but seeing Osmyn, he discovered his mistake just in time to prevent the blow.

Osmyn, who was not conscious of any crime, nor indeed of any act that could have given occasion of offence; started back terrified and amazed, and stood trembling in suspense whether to remain or to withdraw. ALMORAN, in the mean time, sheathed the instrument of death, and bid him fear nothing, for he should not be hurt. He then turned about; and putting, his hand to his forehead, stood again, silent in a musing posture: he recollected, that if he assumed the figure of HAMET, it was necessary he should give orders for HAMET to be admitted to ALMEIDA, as he would otherwise be excluded by the delegates of his own authority; turning, therefore, to Osmyn, 'Remember,' said he, 'that whenever HAMET shall return, it is my command, that he be admitted to ALMEIDA.'

Osmyn; who was pleased with an opportunity of recommending himself to ALMORAN, by praising an act of generous virtue which he supposed him now to exert in favour of his brother, received the command with a look, that expressed not only approbation but joy: 'Let the sword of destruction,' said he, 'be the guard of the tyrant; the strength of my lord shall be the bonds of love: those, who honour thee as ALMORAN, shall rejoice in thee as the friend of HAMET.' To ALMORAN, who was conscious to no kindness for his brother, the praise of Osmyn was a reproach: he was offended at the joy which he saw kindled in his countenance, by a command to shew favour to HAMET; and was fired with sudden rage at that condemnation of his real conduct, which was implied by an encomium on the generosity of which he assumed the appearance for a malevolent and perfidious purpose: his brow was contracted, his lip quivered, and the hilt of his dagger was again grasped in his hand. Osmyn was again overwhelmed with terror and confusion; he had again offended, but knew not his offence. In the mean time, ALMORAN recollecting that to express displeasure against Osmyn was to betray his own secret, endeavoured to suppress his anger; but his anger was succeeded by remorse, regret, and disappointment. The anguish of his mind broke out in imperfect murmurs: 'What I am, said, he, 'is, to this wretch, the object not only of hatred but of scorn; and he commends only what I am not, in what to him I would seem to be.

These sounds, which, tho' not articulate, were yet uttered with great emotion, were still mistaken by Osmyn for the overflowings of capricious and causeless anger: 'My life,' says he to himself, 'is even now suspended in a doubtful balance. Whenever I approach this tyrant, I tread the borders of destruction: like a hood-winked wretch, who is left to wander near the brink of a precipice, I know my danger; but which way soever I turn, I know not whether I shall incur or avoid it.'

In these reflections, did the reign and the slave pass those moments in which the sovereign intended to render the slave subservient to his pleasure or his security, and the slave intended to express a zeal which he really felt, and a homage which his heart had already paid. Osmyn was at length, however, dismissed with an assurance, that all was well; and ALMORAN was again left to reflect with anguish upon the past, to regret the present, and to anticipate the future with solicitude, anxiety, and perturbation.

He was, however, determined to assume the figure of his brother, by the talisman which had been put into his power by the Genius: but just as he was about to form the spell, he recollected, that by the same act he would impress his own likeness upon HAMET who would consequently be invested with his power, and might use it to his destruction. This held him some time in suspense: but reflecting that HAMET might not, perhaps, be apprized of his advantage, till it was too late to improve it; that he was now a fugitive, and probably alone, leaving Persia behind him with all the speed he could make; and that, at the worst, if he should be still near, if he should know the transformation as soon as it should be made, and should instantly take the most effectual measures to improve it; yet as he could dissolve the charm in a moment, whenever it should be necessary for his safety, no formidable danger could be incurred by the experiment, to which he, therefore, proceeded without delay.

CHAP. XIV.

In the mean time, HAMET, to whom his own safety was of no importance but for the sake of ALMEIDA, resolved, if possible, to conceal himself near the city. Having, therefore, reached the confines of the desert, by which it was bounded on the east, he quitted his horse, and determined to remain there till the multitude was dispersed; and the darkness of the evening might conceal his return, when in less than an hour he could reach the palace.

He sat down at the foot of the mountain Kabessed, without considering, that in this place he was most likely to be found, as those who travel the desert seldom fail to enter the cave that winds its way under the mountain, to drink of the water that issues there from a clear and copious spring.

He reviewed the scenes of the day that was now nearly passed, with a mixture of astonishment and distress, to which no description can be equal The sudden and amazing change that a few hours had made in his situation, appeared like a wild and distressful dream, from which he almost doubted whether he should not wake to the power and the felicity that he had lost. He sat some time bewildered in the hurry and multiplicity of his thoughts, and at length burst out into passionate exclamations: 'What,' says he, 'and where am I? Am I, indeed, HAMET; that son of Solyman who divided the dominion of Persia with his brother, and who possessed the love of ALMEIDA alone? Dreadful vicissitude! I am now an outcast, friendless and forlorn; without an associate, and without a dwelling: for me the cup of adversity overflows, and the last dregs of sorrow have been wrung out for my portion: the powers not only of the earth, but of the air, have combined against me; and how can I stand alone before them? But is there no power that will interpose in my behalf? If He, who is supreme, is good, I shall not perish. But wherefore am I thus? Why should the desires of vice be accomplished by superior powers; and why should superior powers be permitted to disappoint the expectations of virtue? Yet let me not rashly question the ways of Him, in whose balance the world is weighed: by Him, every evil is rendered subservient to good; and by His wisdom, the happiness of the whole is secured. Yet I am but a part only, and for a part only I can feel. To me, what is that goodness of which I do not partake? In my cup the gall is unmixed; and have I not, therefore, a right to complain? But what have I said? Let not the gloom that surrounds me, hide from me the prospect of immortality. Shall not eternity atone for time? Eternity, to which the duration of ages is but as an atom to a world! Shall I not, when this momentary separation is past, again meet ALMEIDA to part no more? and shall not a purer flame than burns upon the earth, unite us? Even at this moment, her mind, which not the frauds of sorcery can taint or alienate, is mine: that pleasure which she reserved for me, cannot be taken by force; it is in the consent alone that it subsists; and from the joy that she feels, and from that only, proceeds the joy she can bestow.'

With these reflections he soothed the anguish of his mind, till the dreadful moment arrived, in which the power of the talisman took place, and the figure of ALMORAN was changed into that of HAMET, and the figure of HAMET into that of ALMORAN.

At the moment of transformation, HAMET was seized with a sudden languor, and his faculties were suspended as by the stroke of death. When he recovered, his limbs still trembled, and his lips were parched with thirst: he rose, therefore, and entering the cavern, at the mouth of which he had been sitting, he stooped over the well to drink; but glancing his eyes upon the water, he saw, with astonishment and horror, that it reflected, not his own countenance, but that of his brother. He started back from the prodigy; and supporting himself against the side of the rock, he stood some time like a statue, without the power of recollection: but at length the thought suddenly rushed into his mind, that the same sorcery which had suspended his marriage, and driven him from the throne was still practised against him; and that the change of his figure to that of ALMORAN, was the effect of ALMORAN'S having assumed his likeness, to obtain, in this disguise, whatever ALMEIDA could bestow. This thought, like a whirlwind of the desert, totally subverted his mind; his fortitude was borne down, and his hopes were rooted up; no principles remained to regulate his conduct, but all was phrensy, confusion, and despair. He rushed out of the cave with a furious and distracted look; and went in haste towards the city, without having formed any design, or considered any consequence that might follow.

The shadows of the mountains were now lengthened by the declining sun; and the approach of evening had invited OMAR to meditate in a grove, that was adjacent to the gardens of the palace. From this place he was seen at some distance by HAMET, who came up to him with a hasty and disordered pace; and OMAR drew back with a cold and distant reverence, which the power and the character of ALMORAN concurred to excite. HAMET, not reflecting upon the cause of this behaviour, was offended, and reproached him with the want of that friendship he had so often professed: the vehemence, of his expression and demeanor, suited well with the appearance of ALMORAN; and OMAR, as the best proof of that friendship which had been impeached, took this opportunity to repeat his admonitions in the behalf of HAMET: 'What ever evil,' said he, 'thou canst bring upon HAMET, will be doubled to thyself: to his virtues, the Power that fills infinitude is a friend, and he can be afflicted only till they are perfect; but thy sufferings will be the punishment of vice, and as long as thou are vicious they must increase.

HAMET, who instantly recollected for whom he was mistaken, and the anguish of whose mind was for a moment suspended by this testimony of esteem and kindness, which could not possibly be feigned, and which was paid him at the risque of life, when it could not be known that he received it; ran forward to embrace the hoary sage, who had been the guide of his youth, and cried out, in a voice that was broken by contending passions, 'The face is the face of ALMORAN, but the heart is the heart of HAMET.'

OMAR was struck dumb with astonishment; and HAMET, who was impatient to be longer mistaken, related all the circumstances of his transformation, and reminded him of some particulars which could be known only to themselves: 'Canst thou not yet believe,' said he, 'that I am HAMET? when thou hast this day seen me banished from my kingdom; when thou hast now met me a fugitive returning from the desert; and when I learnt from thee, since the sun was risen which is not yet set, that more than mortal powers were combined against me.' 'I now believe,' said OMAR, 'that thou, indeed, art HAMET.' 'Stay me not then,' said HAMET; 'but come with me to revenge.' 'Beware,' said OMAR, 'lest thou endanger the loss of more than empire and ALMEIDA.' 'If not to revenge,' said HAMET,' I may at least be permitted to punish.' 'Thy mind,' says OMAR, 'is now in such a state, that to punish the crimes by which thou hast been wronged, will dip thee in the guilt of blood. Why else are we forbidden to take vengeance for ourselves? and why is it reserved as the prerogative of the Most High? In Him, and in Him alone, it is goodness guided by wisdom: He approves the means, only as necessary to the end; He wounds only to heal, and destroys only to save; He has complacence, not in the evil, but in the good only which it is appointed to produce. Remember, therefore, that he, to whom the punishment of another is sweet; though his act may be just with respect to others, with respect to himself it is a deed of darkness, and abhorred by the Almighty.' HAMET, who had stood abstracted in the contemplation of the new injury he had suffered, while OMAR was persuading him not to revenge it, started from his posture in all the wildness of distraction; and bursting away from OMAR, with an ardent and furious look hasted toward the palace, and was soon out of sight.

CHAP. XV.

In the mean time, ALMORAN, after having effected the transformation, was met, as he was going to the apartment of ALMEIDA, by Osmyn. Osmyn had already experienced the misery of dependent greatness, that kept him continually under the eye of a capricious tyrant, whose temper was various as the gales of summer, and whose anger was sudden as the bolt of heaven; whose purpose and passions were dark and impetuous as the midnight storm, and at whose command death was inevitable as the approach of time. When he saw ALMORAN, therefore, in the likeness of HAMET, he felt a secret desire to apprize him of his situation, and offer him his friendship.

ALMORAN, who with the form assumed the manners of HAMET, addressed Osmyn with a mild though mournful countenance: 'At length,' said he, 'the will of ALMORAN alone is law; does it permit me to hold a private rank in this place, without molestation?' 'It permits,' said Osmyn, 'yet more; he has commanded, that you should have admittance to ALMEIDA.' ALMORAN, whose vanity betrayed him to flatter his own power in the person of HAMET, replied with a smile: 'I know, that ALMORAN, who presides like a God in silent and distant state, reveals the secrets of his will to thee; I know that thou art'--'I am,' said Osmyn, 'of all thou seest, most wretched.' At this declaration, ALMORAN turned short, and fixed his eyes upon Osmyn with a look of surprize and anger: 'Does not the favour of ALMORAN,' said he, 'whose smile is power, and wealth, and honour, shine upon thee?' 'My lord,' said Osmyn, 'I know so well the severity of thy virtue, that if I should, even for thy sake, become perfidious to thy brother'--ALMORAN, who was unable to preserve the character of HAMET with propriety, interrupted him with a fierce and haughty tone: 'How!' said he, 'perfidious to my brother! to ALMORAN perfidious!'

Osmyn, who had now gone too far to recede, and who still saw before him the figure of HAMET, proceeded in his purpose: 'I knew,' said he, 'that in thy judgment I should be condemned; and yet, the preservation of life is the strongest principle of nature, and the love of virtue is her proudest boast.' 'Explain thyself,' said ALMORAN, 'for I cannot comprehend thee.' 'I mean,' said Osmyn, 'that he, whose life depends upon the caprice of a tyrant, is like the wretch whose sentence is already pronounced; and who, if the wind does but rush by his dungeon, imagines that it is the bow-string and the mute.' 'Fear not,' said ALMORAN, who now affected to be again calm; 'be still faithful, and thou shalt still be safe.' 'Alas!' said Osmyn, there is no diligence, no toil, no faith, that can secure the slave from the sudden phrensy of passion, from, the causeless rage either of drunkenness or lust. I am that slave; the slave of a tyrant whom I hate.' The confusion of ALMORAN was now too great to be concealed, and he stood silent with rage, fear, and indignation. Osmyn, supposing that his wonder suspended his belief of what he had heard, confirmed his declaration by an oath.

Whoever thou art, to whose mind ALMORAN, the mighty and the proud, is present; before whom, the lord of absolute dominion stands trembling and rebuked; who seest the possessor of power by which nature is controuled, pale and silent with anguish and disappointment: if, in the fury of thy wrath, thou hast aggravated weakness into guilt; if thou hast chilled the glow of affection, when it flushed the cheek in thy presence, with the frown of displeasure, or repressed the ardour of friendship with indifference or neglect; now, let thy heart smite thee: for, in thy folly, thou hast cast away that gem, which is the light of life; which power can never seize, and which gold can never buy!

The tyrant fell at once from his pride, like a star from Heaven; and Osmyn, still addressing him as HAMET, at once increased his misery and his fears: 'O,' said he, 'that the throne of Persia was thine! then should innocence enjoy her birth-right of peace, and hope should bid honest industry look upward. There is not one to whom ALMORAN has delegated power, nor one on whom his transient favour has bestowed any gift, who does not already feel his heart throb with the pangs of boding terror. Nor is there one who, if he did not fear the displeasure of the invisible power by whom the throne has been given to thy brother, would not immediately revolt to thee.'

ALMORAN, who had hitherto remained silent, now burst into a passionate exclamation of self pity: 'What can I do?' said he; 'and whither can I turn?' Osmyn, who mistook the cause of his distress, and supposed that he deplored only his want of power to avail himself of the general disposition in his favour, endeavoured to fortify his mind against despair: 'Your state,' said he, 'indeed is distressful, but not hopeless.' The king who, though addressed as, HAMET, was still betrayed by his confusion to answer as ALMORAN, smote his breast, and replied in an agony, 'It is hopeless!' Osmyn remarked his emotion and despair, with, a concern and astonishment that ALMORAN observed, and at once recollected his situation. He endeavoured to retract such expressions of trouble and despondency, as did not suit the character he hid assumed; and telling Osmyn that he thanked him for his friendship; and would improve the advantages it offered him, he directed him to acquaint the eunuchs that they were to admit him to ALMEIDA. When he was left alone; his doubts and perplexity held him long in suspense; a thousand expedients occurred to his mind by turns, and by turns were rejected.

His first thought was to put Osmyn to death: but he considered; that by this he would gain no advantage, as he would be in equal danger from whoever should succeed him: he considered also, that against Osmyn he was upon his guard; and that he might at any time learn, from him, whatever design might be formed in favour of HAMET, by assuming HAMET'S appearance: that he would thus be the confident of every secret, in which his own safety was concerned; and might disconcert the best contrived project at the very moment of its execution, when it would be too late for other measures to be taken: he determined, therefore, to let Osmyn live; at least, till it became more necessary to cut him off. Having in some degree soothed and fortified his mind by these reflections, he entered the apartment of ALMEIDA.

His hope was not founded upon a design to marry her under the appearance of HAMET; for that would be impossible, as the ceremony must have been performed by the priests who supposed the marriage with HAMET to have been forbidden by a divine command; and who, therefore, would not have consented, even supposing they would otherwise have ventured, at the request of HAMET, to perform a ceremony which they knew would be displeasing to ALMORAN: but he hoped to take advantage of her tenderness for his brother, and the particular circumstances of her situation, which made the solemnities of marriage impossible, to seduce her to gratify his desires, without the sanction which alone rendered the gratification of them lawful: if he succeeded in this design, he had reason to expert, either that his love would be extinguished by enjoyment; or that, if he should still desire to marry ALMEIDA, he might, by disclosing to her the artifice by which he had effected his purpose, prevail upon her to consent, as her connexion with HAMET, the chief obstacle to her marriage with him, would then be broken for ever; and as she might, perhaps, wish to sanctify the pleasure which she might be not unwilling to repeat, or at least to make that lawful which it would not be in her power to prevent.

In this disposition, and with this design, he was admitted to ALMEIDA; who, without suspicion of her danger, was exposed to the severest trial, in which every passion concurred to oppose her virtue: she was solicited by all the powers of subtilty and desire, under the appearance of a lover whose tenderness and fidelity had been long tried, and whose passion she returned with equal constancy and ardour; and she was thus solicited, when the rites which alone could consecrate their union, were impossible, and were rendered impossible by the guilty designs of a rival, in whose power she was, and from whom no other expedient offered her a deliverance. Thus deceived and betrayed, she received him with an excess of tenderness and joy, which flattered all his hopes, and for a moment suspended his misery. She enquired, with a fond and gentle solicitude, by what means he had gained admittance, and how he had provided for his retreat. He received and returned her caresses with a vehemence, in which, to less partial eyes, desire would have been more apparent than love; and in the tumult of his passion, he almost neglected her enquiries: finding, however, that she would be answered, he told her, that being by the permission of ALMORAN admitted to every part of the palace, except that of the women, he had found means to bribe the eunuch who kept the door; who was not in danger of detection, because ALMORAN, wearied with the tumult and fatigue of the day, had retired to sleep, and given order to be called at a certain hour. She then complained of the felicitations to which she was exposed, expressed her dread of the consequences she had reason to expect from some sudden sally of the tyrant's rage, and related with tears the brutal outrage she had suffered when he last left her. 'Though I abhorred him,' said she, 'I yet kneeled before him for thee. Let me bend in reverence to that Power, at whose look the whirlwinds are silent, and the seas are calm, that his fury has hitherto been restrained from hurting thee!'

At these words, the face of ALMORAN was again covered with the blushes of confusion: to be still beloved only as HAMET, and as ALMORAN to be still hated; to be thus reproached without anger, and wounded by those who knew not that they struck him; was a species of misery peculiar to himself, and had been incurred only by the acquisition of new powers, which he had requested and received as necessary to obtain that felicity, which the parsimony of nature had placed beyond his reach. His emotions, however, as by ALMEIDA they were supposed to be the emotions of HAMET, she imputed to a different cause: 'As Heaven,' says she, 'has preserved thee from death; so has it, for thy sake, preserved me from violation.' ALMORAN, whose passion had in this interval again surmounted his remorse, gazed eagerly upon her, and catching her to his bosom; 'Let us at least,' says he, 'secure the happiness that is now offered; let not these inestimable moments pass by us unimproved; but to shew that we deserve them, let them be devoted to love.' 'Let us then,' said ALMEIDA, 'escape together.' 'To escape with thee,' said: ALMORAN, 'is impossible. I shall retire, and, like the shaft of Arabia, leave no mark behind, me; but the flight of ALMEIDA will at once be traced to him by whom I was admitted, and I shall thus retaliate his friendship with destruction.' 'Let him then,' said ALMEIDA, 'be the partner of our flight.' 'Urge it not now,' said ALMORAN; 'but trust to my prudence and my love, to select some hour that will be more favourable to our purpose. And yet,' said he, 'even then, we shall, as now, sigh in vain for the completion of our wishes: by whom shall our hands be joined, when in the opinion of the priests it has been forbidden from above?' 'Save thyself then,' said ALMEIDA, and leave me to my fate.' 'Not so,' said ALMORAN. 'What else,' replied ALMEIDA, 'is in our power?' 'It is in our power,' said ALMORAN, 'to seize that joy, to which a public form can give us no new claim; for the public form can only declare that right by which I claim it now.'

As they were now reclining upon a sofa, he threw his arm round her; but she suddenly sprung up, and burst from him: the tear started to her eye, and she gazed upon him with an earnest but yet tender look: 'Is it?' says she--'No sure, it is not the voice of HAMET!' 'O! yes,' said ALMORAN, 'what other voice should call thee to cancel at once the wrongs of HAMET and ALMEIDA; to secure the treasures of thy love from the hand of the robber; to hide, the joys, which if now we lose we may lose for ever, in the sacred and inviolable stores of the past, and place them beyond the power not of ALMORAN only but of fate?' With this wild effusion of desire, he caught her again to his breast, and finding no resistance his heart exulted in his success; but the next moment, to the total disappointment of his hopes, he perceived that she had fainted in his arms. When she recovered, she once more disengaged herself from him, and turning away her face, she burst into tears. When her voice could be heard, she covered herself with her veil, and turning again towards him, 'All but this,' said she, 'I had learnt to bear; and how has this been deserved by ALMEIDA of HAMET? You was my only solace in distress; and when the tears have stolen from my eyes in silence and in solitude, I thought on thee; I thought upon the chaste ardour of thy sacred friendship, which was softened, refined, and exalted into love. This was my hoarded treasure; and the thoughts of possessing this; soothed all my anguish with a miser's happiness, who, blest in the consciousness of hidden wealth, despises cold and hunger, and rejoices in the midst of all the miseries that make poverty dreadful: this was my last retreat; but I am now desolate and forlorn, and my soul looks round, with terror, for that refuge which it can never find.' 'Find that refuge,' said ALMORAN, 'in me.' 'Alas!' said ALMEIDA, 'can he afford me refuge from my sorrows, who, for the guilty pleasures of a transient moment, would forever sully the purity of my mind, and aggravate misfortune by the consciousness of guilt?'

As ALMORAN now perceived, that it was impossible, by any importunity, to induce her to violate her principles; he had nothing more to attempt, but to subvert them. 'When,' said he, 'shall ALMEIDA awake, and these dreams of folly and superstition vanish? That only is virtue, by which happiness is produced; and whatever produces happiness, is therefore virtue; and the forms, and words and rites, which priests have pretended to be required by Heaven, are the fraudful arts only by which they govern mankind.'

ALMEIDA, by this impious insult, was roused from grief to indignation: 'As thou hast now dared,' said she, 'to deride the laws, which thou wouldst first have broken; so hast thou broken for ever the tender bonds, by which my soul was united to thine. Such as I fondly believed thee, thou art not; and what thou art, I have never loved. I have loved a delusive phantom only, which, while I strove to grasp it, has vanished from me.' ALMORAN attempted to reply; but on such a subject, neither her virtue nor her wisdom would permit debate. 'That prodigy,' said she, 'which I thought was the sleight of cunning, or the work of sorcery, I now revere as the voice of Heaven; which, as it knew thy heart, has in mercy saved me from thy arms. To the will of Heaven shall my will be obedient; and my voice also shall pronounce, to ALMORAN ALMEIDA.'

ALMORAN, whose whole soul was now suspended in attention, conceived new hopes of success; and foresaw the certain accomplishment of his purpose, though by an effect directly contrary to that which he had laboured to produce. Thus to have incurred the hatred of ALMEIDA in the form of HAMET, was more fortunate than to have taken advantage of her love; the path that led to his wishes was now clear and open; and his marriage with ALMEIDA in his own person, waited only till he could resume it. He, therefore, instead of soothing, provoked her resentment: 'If thou hast loved a phantom,' said he, 'which existed only in imagination; on such a phantom my love also has been fixed: thou hast, indeed, only the form of what I called ALMEIDA; my love thou hast rejected, because thou hast never loved; the object of thy passion was not HAMET, but a throne; and thou hast made the observance of rituals, in which folly only can suppose there is good or ill, a pretence to violate thy faith, that thou mayst still gratify thy ambition.'

To this injurious reproach, ALMEIDA made no reply; and ALMORAN immediately quitted her apartment, that he might reassume his own figure, take advantage of the disposition which, under the appearance of HAMET, he had produced in favour of himself: But Osmyn, who supposing him to be HAMET, had intercepted and detained him as he was going to ALMEIDA, now intercepted him a second time at his return, having placed himself near the door of the apartment for that purpose.

Osmyn was by no means satisfied with the issue of their last interview: he had perceived a perturbation in the mind of ALMORAN, for which, imagining him to be HAMET, he could not account; and which seemed more extraordinary upon a review, than when it happened; he, therefore, again entered into conversation with him, in which he farther disclosed his sentiments and designs. ALMORAN, notwithstanding the impatience natural to his temper and situation, was thus long detained listening to Osmyn, by the united influence of his curiosity and his fears; his enquiries still alarmed him with new terrors, by discovering new objects of distrust, and new instances of disaffection: still, however, he resolved, not yet to remove Osmyn from his post, that he might give no alarm by any appearance of suspicion, and consequently learn with more ease; and detect with more certainty, any project that might be formed against him.

CHAP. XVI.

ALMEIDA, as soon as she was left alone, began to review the scene that had just past; and was every moment affected with new wonder, grief, and resentment. She now deplored her own misfortune; and now conceived a design to punish the author of it, from whose face she supposed the hand of adversity had torn the mask under which he had deceived her: it appeared to her very easy, to take a severe revenge upon HAMET for the indignity which she supposed he had offered her, by complaining of it to ALMORAN; and telling him, that he had gained admittance to her by bribing the eunuch who kept the door. The thought of thus giving him up, was one moment rejected, as arising from a vindictive spirit; and the next indulged, as an act of justice to ALMORAN, and a punishment due to the hypocrisy of HAMET: to the first she inclined, when her grief, which was still mingled with a tender remembrance of the man she loved, was predominant; and to the last, when her grief gave way to indignation.

Thus are we inclined to consider the same action, either as a virtue, or a vice, by the influence of different passions, which prompt us either to perform or to avoid it. ALMEIDA, from deliberating whether she should accuse HAMET to ALMORAN, or conceal his fault, was led to consider what punishment he would either incur or escape in consequence of her determination; and the images that rushed into her mind, the moment this became the object of her thoughts, at once determined her to be silent: 'Could I bear to see,' said she, 'that hand, which has so often trembled with delight when it enfolded mine, convulsed and black! those eyes, that as often as they gazed upon me were dissolved in tears of tenderness and love, start from the sockets! and those lips that breathed the softest sighs of elegant desire, distorted and gasping in the convulsions of death!'

From this image, her mind recoiled in an agony of terror and pity; her heart sunk within her; her limbs trembled she sunk down upon the sofa, and burst into tears.

By this time, HAMET, on whose form the likeness of ALMORAN was still impressed, had reached the palace. He went instantly towards the apartment of the women. Instead of that chearful alacrity, that mixture of zeal and reverence and affection, which his eye had been used to find where-ever it was turned, he now observed confusion, anxiety and terror; whoever he met, made haste to prostrate themselves before him, and feared to look up till he was past. He went on, however, with a hasty pace; and coming up to the eunuch's guard, he said with an impatient tone; 'To ALMEIDA.' The slave immediately made way before him, and conducted him to the door of the apartment, which he would not otherwise have been able to find, and for which he could not directly enquire.

When he entered, his countenance expressed all the passions that his situation had roused in his mind. He first looked sternly round him, to see whether ALMORAN was not present; and then fetching a deep sigh he turned his eyes, with a look of mournful tenderness, upon ALMEIDA. His first view was to discover, whether ALMORAN had already supplanted him; and for this purpose he collected the whole strength of his mind: he considered that he appeared now, not as HAMET, but as ALMORAN; and that he was to question ALMEIDA concerning ALMORAN, while she had mistaken him for HAMET; he was therefore to maintain the character, at whatever expence, till his doubts were resolved, and his fears either removed or confirmed: he was so firmly persuaded, that ALMORAN had been there before him, that he did not ask the question, but supposed the fact; he restrained alike both his tenderness and his fears; and looking earnestly upon ALMEIDA, who had risen up in his presence with blushes and confusion, 'To me,' says he, 'is ALMEIDA still cold? and has she lavished all her love upon HAMET?'

At the name of HAMET, the blushes and confusion of ALMEIDA increased: her mind was still full of the images, which had risen from the thought of what HAMET might suffer, if ALMORAN should know that he had been with her; and though she feared that their interview was discovered, yet she hoped it might be only suspected, and in that case the removal or confirmation of the suspicions, on which the fate of HAMET depended, would devolve upon her.

In this situation, she, who a few moments before doubted, whether she should not voluntarily give him up, when nothing more was necessary for his safety than to be silent; now determined, with whatever reluctance, to secure him, though it could not he done without dissimulation, and though it was probable that in this dissimulation she would be detected. Instead, therefore, of answering the question, she repeated it: 'On whom said my lord, on HAMET?' HAMET, whose suspicions were increased by the evasion, replied with great emotion, 'Aye, on HAMET; did he not this moment leave you?' 'Leave me this moment?' said ALMEIDA, with yet greater confusion, and deeper blushes. HAMET, in the impatience of his jealousy, concluded, that the passions which he saw expressed in her countenance, and which arose from the struggle between her regard to truth and her tenderness for HAMET, proceeded from the consciousness of what he had most reason to dread, and she to conceal, a breach of virtue, to which she had been betrayed by his own appearance united with the vices of his brother: he, therefore, drew back from her with a look of inexpressible anguish, and stood some time silent. She observed, that in his countenance there was more expression of trouble, than rage; she, therefore, hoped to divert him from persuing his enquiries, by at once removing his jealousy; which she supposed would be at an end, as soon as she should disclose the resolution she had taken in his favour. Addressing him, therefore, as ALMORAN, with a voice which though it was gentle and soothing, was yet mournful and tremulous; 'Do not turn from me,' said she, with those unfriendly and frowning looks; give me now that love which so lately you offered, and with all the future I will atone the past.'