Chapter VII: The Return to His Father (14)

He immediately returned to the little magazine he had made, in order to repair his injustice, if happily it were still in his power. But what was his surprise when he did not find in it the grain he had set apart! He thought he saw in this theft the punishment of Heaven, and determined to confess the fault of which he had been guilty. With a heart full of grief he returned to his master.

"You appear vexed," said the old man. "What can be the cause of it?"

Then Kaskas, flattering himself that he would obtain by his sincerity the pardon of his fault, made a humble confession of the motive, and all the circumstances of it, even to the carrying off the grain which he had set apart, and of which he had not been able to discover the thieves.

The old man, discovering the marked influence of his steward's malignant star, thought it would be imprudent to keep him any longer in his service, and determined to give him his dismissal immediately.

"We do not suit one another," said he to him; "let us part. But, as it is not just that I should bear the loss of that which you improperly set apart, restore me the money which I gave you, and seek the reward of your labour in the sale of the grain which you took from me. I abandon you."

The unfortunate Kaskas acknowledged the justice of this order: he submitted to it without murmuring, and left the house of his benefactor somewhat less naked than he entered it, but without a single piece of money, and plunged into a deep melancholy.

This sorrowful sport of fortune was thoughtfully walking along the sea-shore, when he perceived a tent, which he approached. He found in it four persons, who, discovering in his countenance, which was otherwise engaging, the traces of deep sorrow, eagerly asked him the cause of it. He gratified their curiosity by the recital of his misfortunes. As he spoke he drew a very marked attention from one of the four, who seemed to have a kind of authority over the other three. This man soon recognized him as one of his correspondents at Bagdad, with whom he had formerly had important and lucrative concerns. The merchant was moved with compassion. At that time he was engaged in an adventure of pearl-fishing, and was the chief of the three divers who were with him.

"Throw yourselves into the sea," said he to them, "and the first take of pearls which you have shall be for this unfortunate traveller."

The three divers, affected as well as their master with the misfortune of Kaskas, threw themselves into the sea, and brought up, in shells which they carried with them, ten pearls of an inestimable value for their size and beauty. The merchant was delighted with the little fortune he had been able to procure for his former correspondent.

"Take these pearls," said he to him; "sell two of them when you arrive in the capital, and their price will be sufficient for any adventure in which you may be inclined to engage; but take particular care of the other eight, that they may serve you in the time of need, and sell them where you can do it to the greatest advantage."

Kaskas, after thanking his benefactor, departed, and took the road which he was directed to follow in his way to the capital. He had been three days on his journey, when he perceived at a distance some people on horseback. Afraid lest they should be robbers, he hid eight of the pearls betwixt the two cloths of his vest, and put into his mouth the two others which he proposed to sell. He was not wrong in his conjecture concerning the persons he had seen--they were in reality robbers. They came up to him, surrounded him, and stripped him; and in this situation they left him on the road, with nothing but a single pair of drawers.

The unfortunate traveller recognized in this new feature of fortune the effect of the evil destiny which pursued him. Meanwhile, he congratulated himself on having been able to save from the hands of the rascals the two most beautiful pearls, which were sufficient to re-establish his affairs and assist him in some lucrative adventure. The capital was not far distant. He arrived there, and entrusted to the Dellal[13] the two pearls which remained, to expose them for sale. The Dellal proclaimed the jewels with a loud voice in the market, and invited the curious to bid for them. Unfortunately, some days before there had been some pearls stolen from one of the richest jewellers in the city. He thought he recognized some of his own in those which were set up to sell, and demanded that the pretended owner of the jewels should appear. When he saw him so ill dressed he was convinced he had found the thief.

[Footnote 13: The Dellal is a public crier.]

"There are two pearls," said he to him, "but you ought to have ten: what have you done with the other eight?"

Kaskas, thinking the jeweller had been informed of the present that the fisher had made him, ingenuously replied, "I had ten of them, it is true; but some robbers whom I met on the road have carried off the other eight in the lining of my waistcoat, where I had concealed them."

On this confession, which appeared to the jeweller an acknowledgment of guilt, he took Kaskas by the hand and carried him before the civil magistrate, accusing him of having stolen his pearls. This judge, led away by appearances, and on the declaration of the rich citizen, condemned the poor Kaskas to the bastinado, and to imprisonment as long as his accuser should be pleased to detain him in custody. This unhappy creature, the sport of fortune and of men's injustice, underwent the punishment, and was forced, during a whole year, to groan under the rigour of a severe confinement, till at length chance brought a man of his acquaintance into the same prison. This was one of the three divers in the Persian Gulf, whose labour appeared to have been so profitable to him.

The diver, surprised to see him in this situation, asked the cause of it. Kaskas related to him all that had happened since they parted. This new confidant immediately addressed a petition to the King, in which he implored the favour of being admitted into his presence, that he might communicate to him a secret of the utmost importance. The King caused the diver to be brought before him. He prostrated himself; and the King, after having made him rise up, ordered him to communicate the secret which he was to reveal.

"Great King," said the diver, "the greatness of your Majesty's soul, and your love of justice, are known to all your subjects. I venture, this day, to call upon these sublime virtues, in favour of an unhappy innocent stranger, who has suffered an unjust punishment for a crime which he did not commit, and who is still confined in the same dungeon in which I have been shut up for a trifling fault. You love, sire, to punish the wicked; but it is with the spirit of equity, and for the maintenance of good order. Your Majesty would wish that the wolf and the lamb should walk together securely; and it is the duty of your slave to co-operate with your benevolent intentions, by putting it in your power to repair an injustice committed against a man, persecuted by his evil destiny, and worthy of your compassion."

He then entered into a minute detail of the adventure of Kaskas with regard to the pearls. He showed him the circumstance which had led the jeweller into a mistake, and occasioned the ignorance of the judge; in fine, he added, "If your Majesty still suspects the truth of my recital, you may cause the chief of the fishery, and my companions the divers, to be interrogated concerning it."

The diver, having no interest in a matter that concerned only an unfortunate and helpless man, spoke with that boldness and openness which truth inspires. In the end, the monarch was convinced of the innocence of the unfortunate Kaskas, and ordered the chief of the eunuchs to set him at liberty, conduct him to the bath, and, after having clothed him decently, to bring him into his presence.

The eunuch obeyed. Kaskas was led to the feet of the Sovereign, where he confirmed the report of the diver. He told the fruitless efforts he had made to undeceive the jeweller and remove the prejudice of the judge. In a word, by the detail of all his adventures, he interested the King so much, that he obtained from him, that instant, a lodging in the palace, and a place of trust near his person, with great appointments.

As to the jeweller, after being obliged to restore the pearls, he was sentenced to receive two hundred strokes of the bastinado: the judge received double that number, and was deposed from his office. Kaskas, loaded with favours, thought fate reconciled to him for ever. He took pleasure in hardening himself against his bad fortune, and was already arranging the plans of that success which he promised himself in the new office which he filled, when his curiosity laid a new snare for him.

He discovered one day in the apartment which was allotted to him a door covered up with a thin coat of plaster, which, from age, fell to dust at the smallest touch. It required no effort to force this passage--the door opened of itself. He entered, without reflecting, into a rich apartment, to which he was an entire stranger, and found himself, without knowing it, in the middle of the palace.

Scarcely had he made one step when the chief of the eunuchs observed him, and without delay informed the King of it. The monarch instantly came. The fragments of the plaster, which were still upon the ground, appeared a proof that the door had been forced, and the astonishment of Kaskas carried a complete conviction of his guilt.

"Unhappy man!" said the King to him, "is it thus you acknowledge my favours and your obligations? My justice saved you when I believed you innocent: guilty now, it condemns you to lose your sight."

The imprudent man, without daring to attempt any justification, was instantly delivered over to the executioner, asking no other favour than that they would put into his hands the eyes which were to be torn out.

He carried them in his hand as he walked groping through the streets of the capital.

"Behold," said he, "O ye who hear me, that which the unfortunate Kaskas hath gained by hardening himself against the decrees of his evil destiny, and despising the advice of his friends! Behold the lot of the obstinate!"

* * * * *

Aladin having thus finished the history of the merchant, addressed himself directly to Bohetzad.

"Sire, you have seen the effect of fortune's influence on the man whose adventures I have now related. So long as his star was propitious, he succeeded in everything; but whenever it changed, his efforts to correct its malignity were fruitless. The transient instances of success which seemed to arrest the current of his misfortunes soon plunged him into greater evils than those which he had escaped. Circumstances that were unforeseen, and steps that were innocent, gave him the appearance of ingratitude and guilt, even when everything assured him of the purity of his conduct. My lot, alas! is but too like that of his."

The young man had related the adventures of the unfortunate merchant of Bagdad so naturally and with so much grace, and had made so happy an application of them, that Bohetzad, still disposed to favour a criminal whom he had loved so well, and moved by the instance of rash judgment which he had just heard, put off the execution which he had ordered till the day following, under pretence of its being too late for it then.

"Return to thy prison," said he to him. "I grant thee thy life till to-morrow: I put off till that time the punishment that is justly due to thee."

In the meantime the First Vizier expected with impatience the account of Aladin's execution, and when he heard that it was delayed, he assembled his associates, and thus addressed the Second Vizier:

"The favourite has found means to suspend the execution of his sentence. I have done my duty in determining the King to an act of justice. It now belongs to you to do yours by representing to him the wrong which he does in forgetting the duties of the throne, and in withholding so long the punishment of a crime that has been proved. Make your remonstrances to his Majesty, and give them that force which both his personal safety and ours requires."

The next morning, as soon as access could be had to Bohetzad, Baharon (for that was the name of the Second Vizier) was introduced to the King.

"Sire," said this minister to him, "I heard in the retirement of my closet, and amid the important business with which I am entrusted, of the insult your Majesty has received. Excuse the zeal by which I am animated if I offer your Majesty all the service which can arise from my experience and attachment to you to stop the progress of this evil."

The King thought Baharon might really be ignorant of the event which had happened within the palace, and told him the crime of which Aladin was guilty.

The Vizier seemed to shake as he listened to this report.

"Sire," said he to the King, as soon as he had done speaking, "if the son of a chief of villains, brought up and nourished amidst guilt, could have been capable of virtuous sentiments, this phenomenon would have contradicted experience, and even proved it deceitful. I will here venture to recall to your Majesty a fable of our ancestors which tradition has preserved to us:

"In ancient times a young wolf was put to school, to endeavour, by instruction, to correct his natural propensity to voracity. His master, in order to teach him to read, transcribed, in large characters, some letters of the alphabet, and attempted to make him understand these signs. But instead of reading K L S, as it was written, the savage animal read fluently Kid, Lamb, Sheep. He was governed by instinct, and his nature was incorrigible. The son of a robber is in the very same situation: vice is coeval with his existence. From the beginning he is an infected mass, which it is impossible to purify. But what astonishes me most, sire, is that such a criminal should have survived one moment the insult he has offered to the Crown."

These remonstrances of the Second Vizier having enraged the mind of the monarch still more, he ordered the prisoner to be brought in chains into his presence. He was obeyed.

Aladin appeared. The King, doing violence to the sentiments which moved him in his favour, addressed him with the greatest severity.

"Traitor!" said he to him, "nothing can hereafter delay your punishment; and the world shall be informed of your crime and my vengeance!"

At the same time he gave the executioner the signal of death.

"Sire," interrupted Aladin, whose steady and modest countenance was the genuine proof of courage and innocence, "my life is in the hands of your Majesty; but I conjure you still not to hasten my death. He who thinks only of the present, without reference to the future, exposes himself to as bitter a repentance as that which the merchant felt, whose history I have heard. He, on the contrary, who looks into futurity, has a right one day to congratulate himself on his prudence, as it happened to the son of this merchant."

Bohetzad, in spite of himself, felt his curiosity excited anew, and was desirous to hear the story which Aladin wanted to relate to him.

"I will consent," said the monarch, "to hear the adventures of this merchant; but it is the last instance of complaisance I shall show you."

"May it please your beneficent Majesty," returned Aladin, "order this man, who holds the sabre above my head, to be gone. I think I see the angel of death."

The executioner, having withdrawn by the King's order, Aladin fulfilled the engagement he had come under in the following terms:

THE HISTORY OF ILLAGE MAHOMET AND HIS SONS.

There was, in the city of Naka in Tartary, a merchant, whose name was Illage Mahomet, who, wishing to extend his commerce to the most remote boundaries of the world, constructed a vessel in such a manner as to be able to endure the longest voyage and carry a considerable burden. When this ship was ready to go to sea, he filled it with merchandise; and observing that the wind was favourable, he took leave of his wife, embraced his three children, went on board, and sailed with a fair wind for the Indies.

A fortunate voyage having, in a short time, brought him to the port of the capital of India, he took lodgings, and placed his merchandise in the _kan_. Quite at ease respecting the fate of his effects, he then visited the different quarters of the city, accompanied by four slaves, and soon entered into friendship with the most celebrated merchants of the place. As his attendants had orders to publish the nature of his merchandise, and to distribute patterns of them, a crowd of purchasers resorted to his magazines.

The King of India was accustomed to come out of his palace in order to walk through the town, and inform himself of what was going on there, under a disguise which rendered it impossible he should be known. Chance having directed his steps to the neighbourhood of the _kan_, he was anxious to know what drew everybody there. He saw this foreign merchant, whom a happy and engaging physiognomy, with a gracious address, announced in a very favourable manner. He heard him answer, with good breeding and perspicuity, the questions that were put to him, and saw him conduct his affairs with an openness which gained the confidence of all. He was desirous of having some conversation with him; but the fear of being discovered made him renounce his design for the present. He returned to his palace as quickly as he could, resumed the dress which became his dignity, and sent for this honourable merchant. The merchant quickly obeyed the will of the monarch. He was admitted into his presence, and the King expressed his desire to be acquainted with him.

"Sire," replied the merchant, "I was born and established in Naka, near Mount Caucasus. Commerce is my profession. The favour and liberty which your Majesty grants it have directed my speculations to your dominions, and Heaven hath favoured my voyage."

The King, satisfied with the simple and noble reply of this stranger, wished to find out more particularly the amount of his knowledge, by showing, by turns, curiosity on some subjects and embarrassment on others; but he was equally pleased with all his answers. Convinced, by all that he had heard, that the stranger's abilities were far beyond those necessary for trade, he determined to attach him to his own service by raising him to the highest office. It was not the design of the Sovereign to try the stranger by the allurements of honour; but, knowing that distinguished merit may become useless in an inferior station, and is frequently only the object of envy, he gave him the office of Grand Vizier, in order that it might afford him an opportunity of displaying to greater advantage his knowledge and ability. Illage received this favour with expressions of respect and gratitude.

"I should have considered myself as too much honoured, sire, in being admitted into the number of the slaves who surround your throne. The dignity of the honourable office to which you have called me far surpasses my merit and pretensions; but the high idea which I have conceived of your Majesty inspires me with an unbounded zeal for your service, and a confidence that I shall be wholly devoted to it."

The monarch, still more pleased with his new minister, ordered him a magnificent robe, assigned him for lodgings a palace in the neighbourhood of his own, and caused him to be installed in his new dignity. The Prince had no reason to repent of his choice, which might appear rash. The new minister sat in the divan on the right hand of his master. He was never embarrassed in the discussion of affairs, however intricate. He had great sagacity in understanding every report concerning them. Justice and equity were summed up in his decisions, so that the people and the monarch enjoyed, under the administration of this enlightened minister, all the blessings of a wise government.

Two years passed in labour and great employments; but at last nature resumed her rights. The Vizier, separated so long from a family which he tenderly loved, felt a desire to see them. The first request which he made on this subject alarmed the Sovereign. But he had a soul of sensibility; he could not long resist the voice of nature, and permitted his minister to undertake a voyage which he limited to a certain period, assuring him that if he brought his whole family along with him he should never be exposed to any uneasiness in his service. With this permission, the Vizier embarked for Naka in a vessel of war, of which he had the command.

The family of this merchant of Tartary, being entirely ignorant of his fate since the time of his departure, were abandoned to the most cruel uneasiness. Fortunately, a merchant of the country, returning from India, had given them news of him, and restored tranquillity to the family, who were raised to the summit of joy on hearing of the elevation and success of him on whose account they were alarmed. The wife of Illage determined that moment to repair to her husband, less to share his glory than his love. She set her affairs in order, and, after having taken every necessary step, she embarked with the same merchant who had given her the consolatory news.

After some days' sailing, the vessel which carried them cast anchor near an island where they were to land and exchange merchandise. Contrary winds had obliged Illage to land at the same place. He had hired a lodging pretty near the harbour, and, being fatigued with the bad weather which he had met with, had thrown himself upon a bed in order to take repose. His spouse, who lived in an opposite quarter of the city, soon learned that a vessel had arrived on its way from India, and that it had sailed from the capital. She sent her children to ask the news concerning the Grand Vizier, thinking it impossible but that they should be able to receive some.

The young people went from the inn where their mother was, running, the one after the other, till they had come under the windows of the apartment where the Vizier was at rest. They took possession of a little eminence on which a number of bales of goods were collected to keep them dry. The thoughtless youths went to play on the bales, trying which of the two could push down his brother. These playful lads, disputing with address and roguery, announced their victory or their defeat by such piercing shouts that they awoke the Vizier.

He lost his patience: he went to the window to check the noise, and, leaning over it, three diamonds, which the King had given him, fell from his fingers. The agitation of the sea had already stirred up the minister's choler; the habit of command rendered him incapable of forbearance; and, the island on which he was being within the jurisdiction of his government, he ordered these troublesome children to be taken into custody. He came down himself to search for his diamonds; but, amidst such confusion, this search was fruitless. Driven by degrees to indignation and fury, he accused the children, not only of being the cause of the loss of his diamonds, but even of having stolen them. Their innocence could not defend them against prejudice. He punished them with the bastinado, and then caused each of them to be tied to a board and cast into the sea. The innocent victims, expecting a cruel death, became the sport of the waves and billows.

Meanwhile night approached, and the spouse of Illage, not seeing her children return, uneasy, and bathed in tears, went out to seek them. The neighbours could tell her nothing of them. She ran from street to street, without meeting any person who could satisfy her well-founded impatience. This tender mother came at last to the harbour. There, from the description she gave of the three persons who were the object of her search and the cause of her uneasiness, a sailor replied to her,

"Madam, the young people whom you inquire after are the same whom a powerful man, lately arrived from India, hath punished by his slaves for a theft which he imputed to them. They gave them the bastinado, tied them to a plank, and, by his order, threw them into the sea."

At these words, the unhappy mother filled the air with her shrieks and groans: she rent her clothes and tore her hair. "O my children," said she, "where is the Vizier your father, to revenge me on the man who hath murdered my children?"

Her despair struck the ear of her husband, who was not far distant. He seemed to know the voice, and learned that it was that of the inconsolable mother whose children he had condemned to death. The cry of nature resounded in his heart, and he no longer doubted that the children he had punished were his own. He hastened to the unfortunate woman whose misery he had occasioned, and immediately knew her.

"Ah, barbarian that I am, I have been the murderer of our children! Fatal power with which I am invested! blinded by thee, I had not time allowed me to be just! I am the executioner of my own children!"

As he spoke these words, all the signs of the most violent despair were painted in his countenance, and manifested themselves by every sort of extravagance. His wife sank at his feet under the weight of her grief.

"Do not pardon me," added he: "I am a monster; and so much the more criminal as I am at this moment placed beyond the reach of the law. I must for ever be torn by my own remorse and loaded with your reproaches. I thought myself injured, and I hastened to revenge myself, without taking time to reflect. I saw a crime where there was none, and let fall the stroke upon innocence without thinking it would rebound upon myself."

"You see, sire," continued Aladin, "what cause this Vizier had to repent his believing these children guilty upon a deceitful appearance, and his having hurried on a severe punishment without reflecting on whom it was to fall. He forgot that a regard to futurity ought to regulate the present."

The unfortunate minister, disgusted with glory and opulence, renounced the search for his diamonds, abandoned the vessel and its lading, and supporting the tottering steps of a weeping mother, they both walked along the shore of the sea mournfully demanding of it the treasures which the Vizier had cruelly committed to the inconstancy of its waves.

"Your Majesty," continued Aladin, "will pardon me, if, for a short time, I make you lose sight of this disconsolate pair, while I fix your attention on their unhappy children."

The billows, to whose caprice they had been abandoned, were so agitated that, although they were frequently thrown against one another, they were immediately separated again. One of them, after having struggled for two days against the billows, and after having escaped the danger of being dashed to pieces on the rocks against which he was continually driven, found himself, all at once, ashore on the coast of a neighbouring kingdom. The chains which fixed him to the plank were much worn by the sea, and notwithstanding his fatigue and hunger, he had still strength enough to disengage himself from them, and reach the land. He there found an officer who was going to refresh his horse at the stream of a neighbouring fountain. This man, affected with the sight of the unfortunate child, gave him part of his clothes, set him behind him, and carried him to his own house. There nourishing food and repose completely recovered the shipwrecked youth.

After decently dressing him, his benefactor presented him to the King, already informed of the event.

The happy physiognomy of the young man made an impression on the King, and his answers soon completed the very favourable opinion he had of him. He became a distinguished officer in the palace, where his conduct gained the complete esteem and confidence of his Sovereign. This Prince, to whom Heaven had not granted children, thought he could not do his people a greater service than by adopting the youth, whom fortune had thrown into his arms. His choice was applauded by the whole Court, and confirmed by the divan. The people were happy, and the abilities of the young Prince soon placed him in the number of the most valiant Kings of Asia. Age and infirmities rendered the King unable to support the weight of the government, and he abdicated the sceptre in favour of his adopted son. He saw him married, and thus terminating his career of glory, calmly resigned his life into the hands of his Creator.

The young Sovereign, bewailing the loss of his benefactor, gave himself up to the justest sorrow. He wished to fulfil the duties of gratitude and piety, and summoned his divan, that he might honour the ashes of his predecessor by prayers and solemn ceremonies. The people repaired to the mosques. The Imam, the Nabib, the dervishes, and all those who serve at them, paid to his memory the homage which was due to it. He caused many alms to be distributed among the poor and through all the hospitals of the kingdom. These religious duties early announced the wisdom of his government, and they were not proved false by the event. He was always a just and active King, and governed his people with the affection of a father.

In this manner did fortune snatch from the fury of the waves one of the Vizier's children, to raise him to the summit of greatness. But this unhappy father continued to grieve for the loss of his two sons, until, in one of the islands where he had his residence, he heard the Dellal proclaim, with a loud voice, that there was a young slave to be sold, and that the curious were invited to come and examine him. Illage stopped, looked at the young man, and, constrained by a feeling of which he knew not the cause, he determined to purchase him.

The figure of this stranger had attractions which he could not resist. His age corresponded to that of one of his own children; and if the beauty of his features was a true indication of the virtues of his mind, he hoped he would supply the place of one of those whom he had lost. He returned home with his new purchase.

His wife, who perceived them at a distance, recognized the youth, and was about to throw herself into his arms, but sank under this unexpected surprise. But although her joy deprived her of the use of her senses, she was still able to utter the name of her son. The attention of her husband, and that of the young man, who bathed her with his tears, recalled her to life. The father, affected with what he saw, recognized the cry of nature, and returning thanks to Heaven for the unexpected favour he had received, mingled together his tears and caresses at this moving picture, and partook of the happiness of an unlooked-for discovery. Nevertheless, he was tormented by a new uneasiness: the presence of his son recalled to him his brother--"What is become of him?"

"Alas!" replied the young man, "the waves soon separated the planks on which we were carried, and I can tell you nothing of his fate."

This answer redoubled the affliction of the husband and wife; but they seemed to be comforted with the hope of another blessing similar to that which they had just received; and in this pleasing expectation their tenderness centred on the beloved son whom Heaven had at length restored to their arms.

Several years had elapsed. Achib, the son of Illage, grew stronger every day. He acquired knowledge, and became capable of following commerce, in which his father had instructed him. Seeing him fit even to undertake a profitable voyage, his father purchased a ship, loaded it with merchandise, and destined it for the capital of the islands in which they were settled, entrusting him with the management of it. Upon his arrival in the capital, Achib hired a storehouse in the _kan_, deposited his goods there, and passed some days in arranging them to advantage.

The Feast of the Ramezan came. The young man, a faithful Mussulman, possessed the art of singing so perfectly, that he was able to fulfil with dignity the functions of the Imam.[14] He dressed himself in his _faragi_, and went to the principal mosque. There the King, with all his Court and the grandees of the kingdom, were present at the noonday service. The young man took his place near the King, and when the Athib[15] mounted the pulpit and began to chaunt the _Falhea_,[16] Achib repeated three times, _Alla Akbar_.

[Footnote 14: Imam is a priest who reads and explains the Koran.]

[Footnote 15: Athib is a reader who chaunts over the prayers in plain song.]

[Footnote 16: Falhea, the Mahommedan Confession of Faith.]

The assembly, and the King himself, were astonished at this young stranger seating himself so near his Majesty; but the pleasure of his melodious and affecting voice excited so agreeable a surprise, that they soon forgot his assurance. All agreed that they had never heard anything so exquisite and perfect. The Athib was jealous of him: he had never supposed that there was a voice in the world superior to his own, and the despair which he felt deprived him of the use of it--he felt it die upon his lips. Achib did not give him time to recover it: he continued the prayer with a force and ease which the efforts of the Athib, supposing him to have had the courage to attempt it, could not have surpassed.

When the King had ended his prayer, as he came out of the mosque he ordered his officers to wait for the new singer, to have a horse ready for him, and to conduct him to the palace, where his Majesty desired to see him. Achib received this invitation with respect, and obeyed the orders of his Sovereign.

The monarch gave him a most gracious reception, bestowing the highest praise upon his talents, and soon felt himself prejudiced in favour of this stranger by a sympathy of which he could not discover the springs; but it seemed to be of the most interesting nature. Achib was only in his seventeenth year, and was endowed with every personal grace. Everything seemed to unite in strengthening the liking which the King showed for this stranger. Thus, whether on this pretence or to do a beneficent action, he made him lodge in his palace, and gave him a distinguished preference over the pages and those who composed his household.

The officers soon conspired the destruction of their rival. In the meantime the virtuous Achib, after a long residence at Court, became desirous of seeing his parents and giving them an account of the goods with which he had been entrusted. Afraid lest he should not obtain the monarch's permission to return to them, he wrote to them and informed them of the favour he enjoyed. This motive, and the desire he expressed of seeing them again, determined the family to go to him immediately.

Illage and his wife bore in their hearts the letter which they had just received; and both being flattered with having a son who at so early an age had been able to gain the good graces of a King, they instantly determined to hasten their departure, and informed their son of this resolution. As soon as Achib received this information, he purchased a house and suitable furniture, and in a short time embraced in it the authors of his existence, to whom the King sent presents of such magnificence as showed that they were intended for the family of his favourite.

The fineness of the season having invited the King to one of his country houses, he removed thither, and gave entertainments for the amusement of his Court. One evening, contrary to his usual custom, he gave himself up to the pleasures of the table, and drank of a strange liquor of which he knew not the strength. In a short time after he was suddenly seized with such a stupidity that he was obliged to throw himself on a sofa, where he soon fell asleep. Pleasure had removed from him all his servants. Achib alone, following from affection every step of his master and benefactor, entered into the apartment and found him asleep. Then placing himself within the door, he drew his sabre, and stood there as a guard.

One of the pages having returned, was surprised to find him in this situation, and asked him the cause of it.

"I am watching," said Achib, "for the safety of my King: my attachment and my duty fix me here."

The page ran and told his companions what he had seen. They thought they might easily avail themselves of this event to destroy him, and went in a body to the monarch. The witness swore that he had found Achib with a naked sabre in his hand in his Majesty's chamber while he was asleep. He ascribed the most criminal intentions to this faithful guard, and pretended that nothing but some sudden alarm had prevented the intended blow.

"If your Majesty, sire," added he, "suspects the truth of my report, you need only to-day feign giving yourself up to sleep without any precaution, and we do not doubt that this rash man, pursuing his detestable purpose, will come to renew his attempt."

Though moved by this accusation, the King was unwilling to trust entirely to the declaration of his pages, and thought it his duty to clear up his doubts himself.

In the meantime the pages had gone to find the young favourite.

"The King," said they to him, "is highly pleased with the zeal you have shown for the safety of his person. 'Achib,' hath he said, 'is to me as a shield; under his protection I can sleep without fear.'"

Night came, and the King, after a repast, during which he affected much gaiety and cheerfulness, suddenly retired, and threw himself upon a sofa, apparently in the same state in which he had been the night before. Achib, who never lost sight of him, supposing he was asleep, entered the apartment to place himself on guard, with his sabre uplifted and naked.

As soon as the King saw the gleam of the sabre he was seized with terror, and a cry which he uttered brought to him all the officers of his guard. Achib was arrested by his order, loaded with chains, and led away to prison.

The next morning, after the first prayer, the King assembled his divan, ascended his throne, and caused the man to be brought before him whom slanderous and false reports and deceitful appearances had exposed to the presumption of so much guilt.

"Ungrateful that you are!" said he to him. "Is it by putting me to death that you would show your gratitude and repay my favours? I will not delay to take signal vengeance on your detestable baseness."

Achib, having made no reply to these reproaches, was sent back to prison.

Scarcely was he gone out, when two of the courtiers who were most eager for his destruction approached the King.

"Sire," said they to him, "everybody is surprised to see the execution of the criminal delayed. There is no crime equal to that which he intended to commit; and you ought to give such a speedy example of justice as your personal safety and the tranquillity of your people require."

"Let us not be rash," replied the King, "in a judgment of this nature. The criminal is in chains, and cannot make his escape. And as to public vengeance, it will never be too late to gratify it. It is easy to take away a man's life, but it is impossible to restore it. Life is a blessing of Heaven which we ought to respect, and it becomes not us to deprive our fellow-creatures of it without the most mature deliberation. The evil, once done, can never be repaired. I have it now in my power to reflect on what I ought to do, and wish not that the future should have to reproach me with the improper conduct of the present."

Having said this, the King dismissed the divan, ordered his hunting equipage to be got ready, and gave himself up for some days to the amusements of the chase.

On his return, he was again set upon by the enemies of Achib. The longer, according to them, that this criminal's punishment was delayed, the more the people were discontented. Clemency and moderation ceased to be virtues when they spared such crimes as his. These new remarks embarrassed the Sovereign, who had now nothing to oppose to them, since the delay which he had granted had brought nothing to light. He determined to inflict that severe punishment which justice seemed to require, and ordered the criminal to be brought before him, accompanied by the officers of justice and the executioner.

Achib stood blindfolded at the foot of the throne. The executioner, with the sword in his hand, waited the King's command. At that instant a confused noise was heard; a stranger pierced through the crowd, and hastened to the feet of the King. It was the unfortunate Illage.

"Mercy, sire! mercy!" exclaimed he: "pardon the only child that Heaven has restored to me! My son could not intend an attack upon your life: he was incapable of designing so unnatural a murder; your life is dearer to him than his own. I have letters of his which made me fly to your Majesty, that I might admire more nearly those virtues which I adored. But, O monarch, whose illustrious virtues are renowned through the most distant corners of the world, justify the public admiration by a new display of wisdom, in overcoming a resentment with which false appearances have inspired you! Consider with horror the melancholy consequences of a too rash judgment! Behold in me a dreadful example of the consequence of being led away by passion, and of yielding, without reflection, to its imprudent follies. Heaven blessed me with children; but having been separated from them from their earliest infancy, the day at length came when we were to be reunited. Not knowing them, and being blinded by passion, I abused the power with which I was invested. I had them bound upon planks and thrown into the sea. The man whom you threaten with death alone escaped from perishing in the waves, and must I this day be the witness of his death? Behold the reward of my guilty rashness! My heart is filled with bitterness, and tears will flow from mine eyes till they are closed in death."

During this discourse, the King stood motionless through astonishment. It was his own history he had just heard. The man who spoke was his father, and the supposed criminal his brother!

Having happily acquired, in the exercise of power, the habit of self-command, he knew how to shun the dangers of too sudden a discovery. Nature, however, yielded at length to his eagerness, and he affectionately embraced the author of his life. He ordered his brother to be set free from those shameful chains with which envy had bound him. He made himself known to him; and after mutual consolation.

"Behold," said he to his divan, "to what a dreadful evil I should have exposed myself, had I lightly credited the detractions of slander, and, upon your artful reports, had hastened the punishment which you so eagerly urged! Go, and be ashamed! Was there one among you all who supported innocence?"

After these few words, the King retired into his apartments with his father and brother. He admitted them to a share in all the joys of his Court, and sent twenty slaves, magnificently dressed, in quest of his mother. This family, so happily reunited, lived in the blessings of the most affectionate unity, grateful to the Almighty, and faithful to the law written by His great Prophet, till the moment when they were called, by the decree of fate, from this world to a better.

* * * * *

Aladin, having thus finished the history of "Illage Mahomet, or the Imprudent," added some reflections fitted to make an impression on the mind of the King, whose attention he had been so fortunate as to engage.

"Sire!" said he to him, "if the son, when he became a King, had conducted himself as rashly as the father when he was a minister, innocence would have been sacrificed to jealousy and ambition, and a whole family devoted for life to misery and remorse. There is always something gained by delay. Appearances are equally against me, and envy hath availed itself of them to make me appear guilty; but I have Heaven and your wisdom on my side."

When the young man had done speaking, Bohetzad turned towards his ministers.

"I do not mean," said he, "that crimes should remain unpunished. But truth, even when it comes from the mouth of an enemy, ought to be esteemed precious. This criminal hath well remarked, that there can be nothing lost by taking time to reflect. Let him be carried back to prison."

The Viziers were enraged. Delay might discover the truth, through the cloud under which they had concealed it. As they jointly endeavoured to conceal the stratagems they had devised in secret, the third among them went early the next day to the palace.

The King inquired if the interval that had elapsed had produced no new light.

"Sire," replied this minister, "the police which, under your Majesty's orders, we exercise, maintains the peace of your capital, and all would be perfectly quiet if the throne were avenged of the outrage of this son of a villain, whose punishment your Majesty still delays. The people are murmuring at it, and I should have thought myself wanting in my duty had I concealed from you their uneasiness, the consequences of which may be dangerous. It is never too soon to prevent a rebellion, and that which is now forming would be extremely fatal."

Constrained by these observations, the King commanded the criminal to be brought before him.

"Unhappy man!" said he to him, "thou shalt never summon me to the tribunal of Heaven for having hastened thy punishment. I have listened to all the weak shifts by which thou hast defended thyself. I have weighed their value. But reserve and circumspection have an end. My people murmur. Their patience and mine is exhausted. Heaven and earth look to me for justice, and thou hast reached thy last moment."

"Sire," replied the modest Aladin, "do the people look for an example of your justice? Impatience is the fault of the people. But patience ought always to sit upon the throne, amidst the virtues which form its basis and safety. This virtue, necessary to all, and which calls upon us for that resignation which we owe to the eternal decrees, raised the patient Abosaber from the bottom of a well even to the throne."

"Who is this Abosaber?" asked the King. "Give me a short account of his history."

THE HISTORY OF ABOSABER THE PATIENT.

Sire (said Aladin), Abosaber, surnamed the Patient, was a wealthy and generous man, who lived in a village which he rendered happy by his charities. He was hospitable and beneficent to the poor, and every one that applied to him. His granaries were full, his ploughs were continually at work, his flocks covered the plains, and he maintained plenty in the country. He had a wife and two children, and the happiness of this way of life was disturbed by nothing but the devastations of a monstrous lion, which ravaged the stables and folds belonging to the peaceful cultivators of these happy regions, according to its necessities and those of its young.

The wife of Abosaber wanted her husband, at the head of his people, to hunt this animal, by whose devastation they, on account of their riches, were more particularly affected.

"Wife," said Abosaber to her, "let us have patience! I have not any skill in lion hunting; leave it to others."

The King of the country heard of the ravages of this lion, and ordered a general chase. The people immediately took arms: the lion was sought for, and soon surrounded on every side. A shower of arrows was discharged upon him. He became furious: his bristles stood on end, his eyes flashed, he beat his sides with his terrible tail, and, setting up tremendous roarings, darted with fury upon the nearest of the hunters. This was a young man of nineteen years of age, mounted upon a vigorous horse.

At the cries of the lion the courser was seized with terror, and his strength instantly failed him. He fell, and died as if he had been struck with a thunderbolt. The valiant knight soon got upon his feet, and, invoking the name of the great Prophet, he plunged his spear into the enormous jaws which were opened to devour him. This exploit of courage and intrepidity gained him, together with the applauses of his Sovereign, the office of commander-in-chief of all his troops.

Abosaber, hearing of the lion's death, said to his wife, "See of what advantage patience hath been to us! Had I followed your advice, and exposed myself to the danger of attacking an animal against which it was necessary to draw out so much strength, I should have lost my life, with all my people, to no purpose."

The dangerous lion did not alone disturb the peaceful retreat of Abosaber; the inhabitants of the village did not all enjoy the same good character. One of them committed a considerable robbery in the capital, and made his escape, after having murdered the master of the house he had plundered. The King, informed of this double crime, sent in search of the relations and slaves of the man who had been so inhumanly murdered. No one could give him any information, but by throwing out suspicions against the inhabitants of the village where Abosaber dwelt. These had the character of being very bad people, and were known to have frequented the house in which the murder and theft had been committed, the perpetrators of which they were endeavouring to discover. Upon this declaration alone, and without having recourse to any other proof, the enraged monarch commanded an officer at the head of a detachment to lay waste the village, and bring away its inhabitants loaded with chains.

Those who are employed in the execution of severe commands frequently go beyond the orders they have received. Troops very ill disciplined spread their devastation over all the neighbouring country. They spared only the dwelling of Abosaber and six persons of his household; but they pillaged his granaries and his standing corn, with those of all the inhabitants.

The wife of Abosaber bewailed this disaster.

"We are ruined," said she to her husband; "you see our flocks carried off with those of the guilty, notwithstanding the orders they have to spare whatever belongs to us. See with what injustice we are treated. Speak to the officers of the King."

"I have spoken," said Abosaber, "but they have not time to hear me. Let us have patience: the evil will recoil on those who commit it. Unhappy the man who gives orders at once rigorous and urgent! unhappy the man who acts without reflection! I fear that the evils which the King has brought upon us will soon return upon himself."

An enemy of Abosaber had heard this discourse, and reported it to the King.

"Thus," said he, "speaks the man whom the goodness of your Majesty had spared!"

The monarch instantly gave orders that Abosaber, his wife, and his two children, should be driven from the village and banished from his dominions.

The wife of the wise and resigned Mussulman made loud complaints: she reproached the authors of her calamity, and carried her resentment to excess.