Chapter V: Part 5

Meanwhile the caliph himself, peering between the velvet hangings, revelled in the exquisite perplexity of his guest. And when, after Abu Hasan had given the lie to one and another who sought to convince him, and, being fairly beaten, had to admit that he was indeed the caliph of Baghdad, Rashid himself nearly split his sides with merriment. Finally, when Hasan, believing himself the Lord of all Creatures, commanded all present to withdraw and let him sleep on, the caliph rocked and rolled upon his hidden couch as if in a fit.

As for Abu Hasan, he fell asleep again and dreamed he was naught but Abu Hasan, the merchant. But later he awoke to find it was only a dream. Of a verity he was the caliph of Baghdad, for there by his side stood Mesrur, the High Executioner.

'Commander of the Faithful,' said Mesrur, prostrating himself, 'your Majesty will forgive me for reminding you that it is unusual to rise so late. The time of prayers is over and the business of the day waits. The chief officers of state dwell upon your pleasure in the Council Hall.'

Abu Hasan looked at him keenly. 'Am I awake?' he asked. 'Or do I dream that I am awake?' Then, holding out his little finger to Mesrur, he added, 'Bite that!'

Now Mesrur, who knew that the real caliph's eyes were upon him, was anxious to please him, so he advanced, and, taking Hasan's little finger, bit it hard--so hard that the owner of it cried out with pain. 'Ha!' he cried, 'I do not sleep: I feel, I see, I hear, I speak. Enough!'

'Enough, Monarch of the World!' replied Mesrur. 'Wilt thou deign to rise?'

Then Abu Hasan arose, and was dressed by the officers of the bedchamber. Arrayed in magnificent robes of state he followed Mesrur to the Council Hall, where he ascended the throne amid the acclamations of the Court.

Er-Rashid himself found a niche high in the side of the hall, a point from which he could see all that took place within. It pleased him greatly to notice with what a solemn dignity Abu Hasan occupied the throne. He evidently believed firmly and truly that he was indeed the caliph. How gracious and condescending he was as the principal officers of the Court approached, and, having made obeisance, preferred petitions which were granted or refused wisely and without the least embarrassment.

The business of the day was nearly over when Abu Hasan caught sight of the cadi, whose face he knew very well. 'Stop!' he said to the grand vizier, who was making a long speech 'I have an order of great moment to give to the cadi.'

The cadi immediately arose on hearing his name and prostrated himself before the throne. In his excitement at a sudden thought Abu Hasan had risen to his feet. The vizier stepped forward. 'O Prince of the Faithful!' he said, 'forget not that all men are thy humble slaves, and that it is not fitting for the Lord of all Creatures to rise to any.'

But Hasan waved him aside. 'Peace!' he said sternly. 'I have a command of the greatest importance for the cadi, and I cannot deliver it sitting.' Then, turning to the cadi, he continued, 'Proceed immediately to the house of Abu Hasan and give into the hand of his mother a thousand pieces of gold with my blessing. Then repair to the mosque near by and take the imam and his four chief sheiks and bestow upon them a hundred strokes each. After that impale them each upon a camel, with their faces towards the tails of the beasts, and drive them through all the ways of the city, with a crier in advance proclaiming, "Behold the reward of those who meddle in other people's affairs!" When this is done, see to it that they are expelled from their mosque for ever.'

Having said this Abu Hasan sat down upon the throne with a gasp. He had achieved the dearest wish of his heart. Then he declared the Court closed, and, one by one, all present passed before him and made the same obeisance as when they entered.

Abu Hasan descended the throne and was conducted into a great hall of stately magnificence, where a sumptuous feast was spread. The plates and dishes were of solid gold, and from the rare viands upon them were spread abroad the odours of spices and ambergris. Ten of the most beautiful ladies of the Court stood about the seat set for him with fans to fan him while he dined.

Now Abu Hasan the Wag had a merry wit. Contending that one fan was quite enough, he bade the remaining nine ladies sit at the table with him and eat; and when for very shyness they did not eat, he helped them to the choicest morsels until they could not refrain. Even the lady with the fan he fed with tit-bits from his own dish. The way he engaged them with his sparkling wit was a delight to the caliph, who was still watching the progress of his joke from a concealed place. 'Verily,' said he, 'thou art a wag, Abu Hasan.'

When Hasan was fully refreshed with food there was still another delight before him. The chief officer led him into another hall as elegant as the former, and there, when his ladies-in-waiting had bathed his hands in a golden bowl with great ceremony, Abu Hasan seated himself on luxurious cushions and partook of the choicest sweetmeats and fruits, while the Court musicians played a serenade and the Court ladies stood around him fanning him, and responding to his sprightly sallies. Never had he experienced such pleasure; but even greater awaited him.

When dessert was finished he was conducted into yet another hall, where, in the midst of everything the heart of luxury could desire, were set silver flagons filled with sparkling wine, and near them were placed seven golden goblets.

Here also, reposing on soft cushions, were six beautiful damsels, each one of whom could vie with the fairest flower or sit in the place of the moon. Easily enticed to a luxurious divan prepared for him, Abu Hasan seated himself, and, clapping his hands, bade the musicians cease. There was silence. Then, turning to the damsel nearest him, Hasan asked her name.

'Cluster of Pearls,' replied she.

'Then, Cluster of Pearls, fill a goblet with wine and I will drink your health, and may you always shine as now.'

The girl, vastly pleased, handed him the wine, and he drank. And, as the music played, and they whirled about him in the dance, he called one after another at intervals, asked her name, and received wine at her hands.

An hour of delight sped by in this fashion, until at last he came to the sixth and last. 'What is your name?' asked he. 'Coralie,' said she. 'Then, Coralie, give me wine as red as your lips, and with a sparkle like that in your eyes.'

Now the caliph had ordered that a lozenge of benj should be placed in one of the goblets, and this reserved till the last. Accordingly, this was the goblet that Coralie filled; and she handed it to Abu Hasan with sweet words, bidding him forget his exalted degree and drink to the eyes and lips of his humblest slave-girl.

Abu Hasan drank, and, in truth, he forgot everything--even the eyes and lips of the slave-girl--for his head fell forward on his breast and the goblet rolled from his hand. The benj had done its work: he was in a profound slumber.

The caliph, who had enjoyed the whole scene immensely, quickly came out of his hiding-place and ordered Abu Hasan to be dressed again in his own clothes and carried back to his own house and put to bed.

Next morning----

O King, next morning, when Abu Hasan awoke, he sat up and looked about him in the utmost astonishment. What prank was this that he should dream he was awake and in his own home? Faugh! He clapped his hands and called loudly, 'Coralie! Cluster of Pearls! Morning Star! Heart's Delight! Where are you all?'

He called so loudly that his mother came running to him.

'What ails thee, my son?' cried she.

Abu Hasan sat up and looked at her haughtily. 'My good woman,' he said, 'I advise thee to moderate thy tone somewhat if thou wish to have a head left upon thy body. Thy son, indeed! Knowest thou not that I am the Commander of the Faithful. Bow down, woman, or it will go hardly with thee.'

His mother knew not what to say, but it was clear he had lost his reason. Thinking to divert his mind, she told him about the thousand pieces of gold and the punishment of the imam.

'Ha! that is so,' cried he. 'It was by my order these things were done. I tell you I am the caliph of Baghdad, and I will soon teach you how to behave towards the Prince of the Faithful.'

With this he arose in wrath, and, seizing a cane, thrashed his mother severely--whack! whack! whack! until her screams brought the neighbours running in. And as soon as they learnt how matters were they said among themselves, 'He is mad!' So they fell upon him and bound him, and took him off to the mad-house.

A mad man then was Abu Hasan. Every day he received fifty strokes to remind him that he was not the Lord of all Creatures, until at last he was fain to admit that since these things must be done by order of the caliph, it was not within reason that the caliph should punish the Prince of the Faithful, or that the Lord of all Creatures should fall upon himself in so grievous a fashion. At last, one day he confessed his error to his mother, and it gave her as much joy as if she had brought him into the world for the second time. 'I have had an evil dream,' he said, 'a dream so real that verily it must have been the work of wizardry. Ha! I see it now--that accurséd merchant that supped with me. It was he and none other. But the thousand pieces of gold! The imam! Nay, it was no dream, but the most devilish enchantment.'

But as he now confessed that he was not the caliph, his mother easily procured his release and took him home. Under her tender care he soon regained his strength, and at length began to resume his former habits. Again he repaired in the evenings to the end of the bridge and waylaid some stranger whom he invited to sup with him. Some weeks had elapsed when one evening, while he was waiting in his usual place, he saw the merchant from Moussul approaching, attended by his slave. 'By Allah!' said he in great agitation, 'here comes that vile magician!'

The caliph walked straight up to him and cried, 'Ho, brother! Is it thou? I am delighted! Permit me to embrace thee.'

'Not so fast,' returned Abu Hasan coldly. 'I care not for thee nor thy embraces. Be off about thy business, accurséd of God!'

'What hast thou then suffered at my hands?' asked the caliph. 'Is it that I forgot your oath through pleasure at seeing you once more? I am deeply sorry.'

'Nay, nay; it is not that, O master of fiends! Thou didst enchant me and hand me over to fiends, and now thou comest to make sport of my sufferings. Begone! I like thee not.'

'Brother!' replied the caliph with extreme courtesy, 'thou art surely in error. Yet perchance it was my fault, for now I do remember that when I left you that night I neglected to close the door, and methinks the evil one entered to thee after I had gone.' And, by cunning arguments and the most courteous protestations of affection, the caliph succeeded in convincing Hasan that he had no hand in such devilries, and in the end Hasan realised that he had done the stranger so great an injustice that he set aside his oath for once and invited him again to his house.

And as it fell out before, so it befell again. A second time the caliph employed the benj, and a second time Hasan awoke in the morning to find himself upon the royal couch surrounded by the attendants of the Court. His first call was for his mother, but a slave-girl struck a lute near by and answered, 'O Prince of the Faithful! we are here to do thy bidding.'

Abu Hasan looked about him completely dazed. If he was one day Abu Hasan and another day the caliph, who was he when he was at home? The problem was insoluble. He tried to solve it by commanding the chief memluk to bite his ear to see if he was really awake. Then, as the memluk's teeth met through the flesh of the lobe, Abu Hasan shrieked aloud, and the caliph, hidden in a recess near by, fell to his knees with suppressed laughter.

'Verily, I am awake,' cried Abu Hasan, rising in fury, 'but this is the work of the evil one. O Abandoned of God! Back to your infernal abodes! I will have none of you.' And he hurled at them the most holy passages of the Koran ordained for the casting out of devils. At this the caliph, unable to endure it further, came forth, laughing as he had never laughed before. He cried, holding his sides, 'Stop! for Allah's sake, stop! or it will be the death of me!'

Then Abu Hasan stood aghast. He recognised the merchant of Moussul, and also, for the first time, he recognised Harun-er-Rashid, the caliph of Baghdad, the mighty descendant of the House of Abbas. He saw it all now, and humbly made obeisance, praying that the Lord of all Creatures might live for ever.

'Rise, Abu Hasan the Wag!' said the caliph, 'and the peace of Allah be with thee.'

Abu Hasan the Wag! What a history was his! He rose in favour with the caliph, who ceased not to shower gifts upon him. And a time came when the caliph and the Queen Zobeide conspired together to marry him to one of the loveliest women of the Court. These two thereafter lived in the palace, under the caliph's smile, in perfect happiness, tasting every delight until, in the end, when the last cup of joy was quaffed, the Great Gleaner, who gleans alike in palaces and in the humblest dwellings, came to gather them home.

JUSEF AND ASENATH

A LOVE STORY OF EGYPT

THE loves of _Jusef_ and _Asenath_ which ran not smooth! Deep is the poet's singing thereon, and sweet is the song that is sung.

In the days of old, even on a day when _Jusef_, having interpreted the dream of Egypt's king, set forth through the whole land to gather the plenteous harvest against the seven years of famine to come, a beautiful maiden named _Asenath_ sat in the tower of her father's palace surrounded by seven damsels whose beauty was rare, though it paled before that of _Asenath_ herself. She had chosen these damsels from the multitudes of Syria and Egypt and Arabia--a choice beset with difficulty, for each one of them was neither older nor younger than _Asenath_, having been born in the selfsame midnight hour, though in places far distant beneath the moon.

'Think not,' she was saying to them, 'that my father Putiphra, priest of Heliopolis and satrap of Pharaoh though he be, can say to me, "This man shalt thou love," or, "That man shall take thee to wife." Nay, the heart of _Asenath_ is her own, and it goes not out to any man, be he the greatest in the land or so beautiful that the stars bow down before him. True, my father is a good man and just, yet would not I obey him in such a matter, for, in the first place, my dead mother's words are locked in my bosom. "My daughter," she said, "although thy father is of Egypt, thou art not, as I am not. I, a Hebrew of Syria, descended from Zedekiah, in the region beyond the Euphrates, did spoil the Egyptians of thee, by thy very birth from me. See to it, therefore, that thou take no prince of the land of Pharaoh to thy bosom, but rather one of my own Hebrew blood, which has flowed through Syria to the east, and, having at length sat on the throne of Egypt, will rise from the ends of the earth to vanquish Syria in the west." Do ye comprehend this?'

'O _Asenath_, we bow before thee. Thy beauty would burn the heart of the mightiest in the land.'

'Nay, I shall ever shun such fires. In that respect my mother's words take no hold upon me. For that was in the first place; in the second place, my mother's words counselling me to shun the Egyptian and wed one of her own blood mean naught to me, since I would of my own accord shun all men, both Hebrew and Egyptian.'

The seven damsels looked at one another in silence. At last one, a dark-eyed Syrian, leaned forward and spoke:

'O _Asenath_, hear me! Hast thou never felt a strange voice in thy heart calling for eyes like thine, and lips like wine, and strong arms to gather thee close and crush thee like a flower?'

'Never have I. Hast thou, Ashtar?'

'Never. Yet I have heard it sung in songs, when I doubt not it is the sweet music only that holds one in a close embrace till the heart beats wildly and----'

'Stay thy tongue, Ashtar,' broke in _Asenath_ with scorn. 'Thy words strike upon the back of my head, and fall at my heels. I see the light of madness in thine eyes.'

And Ashtar, withered by her glance, hid her face in her hands and drowned that light of madness in a storm of tears.

'Tush, girl!' said _Asenath_, 'surely thou hast gone from thy mind to speak such words.' The others sat mute and still, fearing to sympathise with Ashtar lest they should arouse their mistress's anger still further. And yet each maiden leaned her body and turned her eyes a little--a very little--towards the culprit, for she had spoken bold words which they had never dared to frame.

'Look you,' cried _Asenath_, raising herself and speaking high, 'this day I learn that the first-born of Pharaoh hath desired me as wife. But I will none of him. I told his messenger that the king of Egypt would desire a greater personage than I as his son's wife, and therefore he had best look to the king of Moab, whose daughter is not only beautiful, but a queen. Faugh! I will none of them. I am a maiden, and a maiden I will remain.'

Now, although _Asenath_ treasured her mother's memory, and for Hebrew loveliness was as beautiful as Rachel; although she liked not the Egyptians and their rule, yet, perforce, she knew no other religion than theirs. Her father had brought her up in the worship and fear of the Egyptian gods. Every day she repaired to the highest story of the tower, where, in the central chamber of twelve--a chamber splendidly adorned with rare stones of many colours and workmanship--those gods, who were many, were wrought in silver and gold, even upon the purple ceiling. There, day by day, she worshipped and feared and paid them sacrifice. This done, she would retire into a luxurious chamber which had a great window looking towards the east, and there she would sit and muse and ponder, gazing out beyond the palace courtyard and away to the lonely waters of the Nile, now plying her needle on delicate embroideries which she loved, and now playing sweet music on her lute and singing to the silver moon. Always her damsels were about her; and always the feet of men, for whom she had neither love nor fear, trod far below in the ways of the city, no foot among those thousands ever destined to tread the marble stairway leading to her palace tower.

Rich and rare were the priceless things the twelve chambers contained. Apart from treasure-rooms stocked with precious stones and rare ornaments and linen and silk of striking splendour there were broad balconies and pillared alcoves where the soft breezes rustled in the branches of great palms and the spray of clear fountains sparkled in the sunlight ere it fell to rest on a bed of moss or strayed further to caress the foliage of rare ferns nodding dreamily in deep grot or cool recess. No flower that ever delighted the eyes of king or peasant was absent from _Asenath's_ abode, and such a fragrance hung upon the air that one had but to close one's eyes and yield to the sweet influences of Paradise.

On the day when _Asenath_ was speaking to her maidens, as has been told already, she was reclining on a golden couch decked with purple, woven with threads of gold, while all about it and upon were set jewels that sparkled like stars in the midnight sky. She was gazing out at the great window towards the east, when suddenly she was startled by a great commotion in the courtyard below. Slaves ran hither and thither at the word of the steward of the palace. All seemed in preparation for some great event.

'It can be naught but this,' said _Asenath_, 'my father hath sent a messenger saying that he is returning from his country estate, having taken tale of the harvest, for the king hath decreed that _Jusef_, the first ruler, shall require a toll of all in this the first year of plenty.'

'_Jusef_, the prime ruler,' said Ashtar, 'he will come here? Then we shall see him. They say he is as beautiful as a god.'

'_They_ say, girl? Who say?'

'The songs,' stammered Ashtar, crestfallen, 'the--the songs of love.'

'Silence, wayward one! Thou art bemused by the poets. This _Jusef_ is a mere man like other men; was he not the son of a shepherd? Was he not a runaway? Was he not sold as a slave? Was he not cast by his master, and for some good reason, into a dungeon?'

'Yea, O my adored mistress, but was he not liberated by Pharaoh?'

'Yes, because he interpreted Pharaoh's dreams, just as any old Egyptian woman might do. Pouf! Thou art bemused!'

Then Ashtar sat in silence, gazing out at the deep blue sky. Why had this _Jusef's_ interpretation of dreams raised him to the king's favour while that of the old Egyptian women had been unheeded? Was it because he was, as the singers sang, as beautiful as a god and possessed the spirit of a god? Ashtar could not tell. Beneath the haughty frown of _Asenath_ she sat dumb. Then, with a sigh, she sank upon her cushions, her lips trembling.

'Ashtar is bemused,' whispered the other damsels one to another. 'Could the like happen to us?' And _Asenath_, catching their words, cried, 'Ashtar is a fool! Who but a fool would ever think such thoughts or speak such words?' Then, as a great sound of voices struck upon her ear, she turned again to the window. 'See! See!' she exclaimed, 'a great cavalcade is approaching the gates. There at the head is my father, and--who is that beside him? What are the people crying?--"_Jusef_, the Prince of God!" Ah! How proudly he sits his white charger, and how brave his equipments--how splendid his retinue! say you, Ashtar, that this is the second to Pharaoh?'

Can you not spare something towards this work of mercy and healing among our most gallant Allies?

Edmund Dulac

_Contributions may be addressed to_

EDMUND DULAC,
C/O THE DAILY TELEGRAPH,
FLEET STREET, E.C.]

'Yes, mistress, yes; this is the man _Jusef_, like all other men. They say he is searching for corn, not for the love of woman.'

'Then let him deal with corn,' flashed _Asenath_, rising. 'Leave me, all of you! I would be alone.'

The damsels fled, and _Asenath_ turned again to the window. The gates were now opened, and her father and _Jusef_, followed by a great retinue, rode into the courtyard. Ah! What perfect grace of form and feature! _Asenath's_ heart almost burst for frantic beating as she looked at him. Then, in spite of herself, she drew nearer the window, and, as she gazed down, _Jusef_ chanced to glance up. Their eyes met, and _Asenath_, with a pang at her heart, reeled and fell clutching at the cushions. There she lay sobbing in sudden sorrow. She had spoken bitter words against him, and now the sweet tears of repentance refreshed her anguished soul. Soon she sat up, a picture of misery, but with a glorious light in her eyes.

'Ashtar is no fool,' she murmured, clenching her hands; 'and I do not believe the tales told by the people against him. Oh! Unhappy _Asenath_! What is life to thee now? He comes for toll of corn, and with toll of corn he will depart, and then----'

She swung herself prone upon the cushions and wept again most bitterly.

And _Jusef_ entered into the palace of Putiphra, and all fell down and made obeisance before him,--all except _Asenath_, who remained hidden in her tower. When the slave-girls had washed _Jusef's_ feet they set food and wine before him, but on a table apart, for it was known in the land that _Jusef_ the son of Jakub would not eat with the Egyptians, this being an abomination to him.

'My lord Putiphra,' he said, when he had refreshed himself, 'pray tell me, who is that woman I saw looking from the window of the tower? I desire not her presence here.'

Now Putiphra knew it was his daughter _Asenath_ that _Jusef_ had seen. He knew, also, that there was no wife nor daughter of any great man of Egypt who at sight of _Jusef's_ beauty did not fall in evil case. Nay, further, many were the gifts of gold and silver and precious stones sent him by those who languished and were undone in heart by a single glance at him afar. Wherefore these things were a sore vexation to _Jusef_, who was as pure as he was beautiful. Remembering ever his father's exhortation to avoid the strange woman with a gentle and courteous denial, and to have no other communication with her, he had preserved the sweetness of his soul to God. 'I pray,' he said, seeing his host was slow to answer, 'let the woman go hence, for so thou shalt earn my thanks.'

'My lord,' replied Putiphra, 'the woman thou sawest was none but mine own daughter, a pure virgin, whom no man save myself hath seen unto this day. Indeed, she hath no heart for aught but her present state, my lord. Wert thou to speak with her, thou wouldst regard her from that moment henceforth as thy sister, for in any other respect she hateth every man.'

These words pleased _Jusef_ exceedingly.

'Then the case is different,' said he. 'If she be your daughter and a maiden, hating all men save father and brother, let her come to me and she will be to me as a sister, and I will love her henceforth, even as my own sister.'

Then Putiphra went up to the tower and soon returned, leading _Asenath_ by the hand. And when she saw _Jusef_ her eyes were as the eyes of one that looketh into Paradise.

'Go to thy brother,' said Putiphra, 'and salute him with a kiss, for he is like thee, pure and virgin.'

_Asenath_ advanced to _Jusef_, saying, 'Hail, lord, great and blessed of the Most High!' And _Jusef_ replied, 'Hail to thee, maiden! May the Lord God, who giveth all grace and beauty, so continue to bless thee.'

But when _Asenath_ timidly advanced still further to fulfil her father's command, and showed a sweet intent to kiss her new-found brother, _Jusef_ saw the love-light in her eyes, though she, poor child, knew naught of it but that her heart had left her bosom and flown to his. He rose quickly from his seat, and, raising his right arm, said, 'It is not fitting that a man whose lips extol the living God should kiss a strange woman whose mouth prayeth to blocks of wood and stone, and eateth the bread of strangling, and drinketh the cup of treachery.'

When _Asenath_ heard these words her knees trembled. Her heart returned to her own bosom and sank within it. She groaned aloud, and, as she gazed sorrowfully at _Jusef_, her eyes brimmed with tears. Seeing this, _Jusef_ felt pity for her, for he was gentle and merciful. Placing his hand upon her head, he spoke: 'God of my fathers, who hast given life and light to all things, do Thou bless this maiden, and count her as one of Thy people chosen from the foundations of the world; and may she come to Thine eternal peace, pure and holy in Thy sight.'

Then the tears withdrew from _Asenath's_ eyes as the blessing of _Jusef_ shone upon her face. She thanked him joyfully, and, having saluted him, returned to her tower, where she threw herself upon her couch by the window, weak and trembling with joy and grief and fear and remorse.

Alas! how she had spoken of _Jusef_! How she had besmirched his name--called him a runaway, a guilty man who should still be in prison for his sin, a mere interpreter of dreams. Alas! and he had spurned her as a worshipper of idols and then had forgiven and blessed her, the last on earth to deserve it.

For a time she wept with a great and bitter weeping; then she rose with teeth clenched and dry eyes aflame. Rushing to the wall of the chamber she snatched a stone idol from its place and hurled it from the window into the courtyard below. She saw it fall, and heard the crash as it splintered upon the stones. 'His faith was my mothers faith,' she cried, 'and henceforth my mother's faith is mine.'

When _Jusef_ had gathered the toll of wheat and was about to depart Putiphra besought him to tarry and abide at his palace the night and continue his journey on the following day. But _Jusef_ replied, 'Nay, I have seven days in which I must make a circuit of the whole country, but on the eighth day I will return and take up my abode with you.'

And _Jusef_ departed with his retinue through the palace gates; and as he went he looked not up at the window of the palace tower, nor did _Asenath_ look down therefrom.

For seven days thereafter the sun rose and set on _Asenath_ weeping. She neither ate nor drank, nor could her damsels console her in any way. Sleep fled from her eyes. 'Woe is me,' she would cry, smiting her breast. 'Woe to me that I have spoken evil words concerning him; whither shall I go to escape from my sorrow? Woe to me, wretched one, who hath defamed with my tongue the most beautiful son of Heaven. Oh that my father could now give me to _Jusef_ as a slave-girl or a handmaiden, that I might serve him for ever.'

On the night of the seventh day she arose from her couch, and, passing among her damsels, who were all asleep, stole down the stairway of the tower, through the ways of the palace, and out to the great gateway. Here she found the janitor fast asleep. Without waking him, she ran to the gate and tore down the skin of the screen belonging to it. Then she sought an ash heap in a remote part of the courtyard, and, having filled the skin with ashes, returned with it to the tower. She entered her own chamber and bolted the door; then she spread the skin of ashes on the pavement by the window and fell upon it, weeping violently, and crying in broken words: 'By this do I renounce the gods of Egypt. By this do I change my heart and cleanse my lips, which, as he said, have offered prayers to idols.' And so she repented with groans and tears until the dawn was near, when she looked up towards the east and saw the morning star depending from the side of heaven, like a great lamp burning clear and sheltered from the wind, lighting her soul to the gate of forgiveness. She sat up and raised her hands towards it, when suddenly the sky opened and a wondrous light appeared. When _Asenath_ saw it she fell on her face upon the ashes, and lo, a man strode out of heaven and stood above her, calling her by name; but she answered not, so great was her terror. Then he called her again: '_Asenath! Asenath!_' and his voice was like the murmur of the four streams of Paradise.

'O my lord, who art thou?' she answered from the dust.

'I am the prince and commander of the hosts of the Lord. Arise and stand before me, for I would speak with thee.'

When _Asenath_ raised her head and looked at the bright visitant she saw before her an angel in the form and features of _Jusef_, clad in a robe of dazzling purple, with a crown of gold encircling his brows, and bearing a royal staff in his hand. Then she was taken with a sudden fear, and fell again upon her face. But the Bright One of God raised her up and comforted her.

'Lift up thy heart, O Virgin _Asenath_,' he said, 'for thy name is written in the Book of Life and shall never be blotted out for ever and for ever. For know that thy repentance hath pleaded with the Most High as a daughter pleads with a loving father, and it is this day decreed that thou shalt be given unto _Jusef_ as his bride. Therefore arise and change thy garments. Remove that goat's-hair girdle of sorrow from thy loins, shake the ashes from thine head, and array thyself in fine linen with ornaments fitting for the bride of a king to be. Go now, and on thy return thou wilt find me here, provided thou return alone.'

So _Asenath_ went and woke her damsels, and bade them select the finest raiment and the brightest jewels fitting for the bride of the second to Pharaoh. No word did she say of the angel, and they wondered greatly. Ashtar alone, on looking into her mistress's eyes, saw there the light that she almost understood.

'Nay, Ashtar,' said _Asenath_, as the damsel's deft fingers plied their task, 'thou art not bemused. It has come to me, Ashtar; canst thou not see it?'

'Yea, beloved mistress; that can I, right well.' And as their eyes met, Ashtar's filled with tears of joy.

At last _Asenath_ stood apparelled and adorned as befitted the bride of the second to Pharaoh. Her braided hair, a plait of which hung over her shoulder, was bound about her brows with a tiara of gold set with sparkling jewels. Gold bracelets were on her arms; a crimson sash encircled her waist; flounces of her skirts shone with a thousand diamonds and rubies; but most wonderful of all was the long, gossamer veil which fell from her shoulders and trailed on the ground: it was like the milky way of heaven, all stars, with diamond suns blazing here and there. Beauty beyond words was _Asenath_ as she returned to the angel bearing a white flower of purity in her hand.

He was standing by the window as she entered the chamber alone and barred the door behind her.

'My lord,' she said, humbly kneeling before him, 'if now I have won favour in thine eyes, I pray thee take this flower, for thou knowest the meaning of it. It is spotless white, even as I; with a centre of gold, even as I. I pray thee take it and set it in Paradise that it may never wither.'

The angel smiled and took the flower, which he placed in his girdle. 'It will never wither,' he said. 'It is the flower that endures when all created things have passed away. When thou comest to the tree of life thou shalt find it there. _Perchance thou mayst find it even here._'

Then _Asenath_, pondering his words in her heart, beseeched him to sit upon the couch whereon man had never sat. And she said, 'I will bring thee a meal. What wouldst thou?'

'A honeycomb,' said he.

'Alas! I have no honeycomb.' And she was sorrowful.

'Go thou into thy cellar,' said the angel, 'and thou wilt find a honeycomb.'

Wondering, she went to the cellar, and found a honeycomb there upon the table. It was as white as snow and had the combined fragrance of all the flowers that bloom on hillside and plain. And she returned to him with the honeycomb, saying, 'My lord, as thou spakest, so it was, and the fragrance of it is as the breath of thy presence.'

'Blessed art thou,' said the angel, laying his hand tenderly upon her hair; 'thou hast cast away thine idols and hast turned to the living God. Thou hast come to me in penitence, and shalt now eat of this honeycomb which was gathered and made by the bees of God from the red roses of Eden. It is the food of angels, and those who eat it can never die.'

With this he brake a portion from the honeycomb and set it to her lips, saying, 'Eat, and thy youth shall not fail, thy beauty shall not fall away, thy breasts shall not wither, and thou shalt come at last, in eternal youth, before the throne of God.'

_Asenath_ ate the morsel of honeycomb, and immediately her face was radiant with the glory of heaven.

'See,' said the angel, touching the broken honeycomb, 'it is now whole as before.' Then he rose up, and with his finger traced a line upon the honeycomb from east to west, and another from north to south; and the lines stood out as red as the blood shed on the cross erected upon the foundations of the world. And, as _Asenath_ looked upon it, there came forth from the comb a multitude of bees with purple wings; and they swarmed around her with incessant life, and, swiftly speeding to and from the gardens of Paradise, deposited in the bosom of her dress a honeycomb as white as snow.

'This,' said the angel, 'shall be a sign to thee of sweetness for ever.' And, as at his command, the bees flew eastward to Eden; then he touched the honeycomb, and it was immediately consumed by flames; but the fragrance of that burning was like the marriage of honey with fire. It rose into the nostrils of _Asenath_ and overcame her senses. Relinquishing all hold on earthly life, she threw up her arms and sank back upon the couch, where she lay like a beautiful soul fallen dead at the very gates of Paradise.

On the slanting rays of dawn the angel took his way eastwards. Then up rose the sun of the eighth day since _Jusef's_ departure. A cavalcade approached the gates of the palace.

'Ho, within!'

The gates open and there is rushing to and fro. A man, as lordly as the sun, a white flower with a heart of gold in his girdle, rides in, followed by a retinue found only in the wake of kings. It is _Jusef_. Maddened by a dream, he looks up at the window of the palace tower, but the beautiful face that has showed before shows there no more. Love speeds his footsteps. He has right to command. Where--where is she?

_Asenath_ upon her couch wakes from oblivion at a touch. Who is this standing over her? The angel, yea, the angel, for there is her flower still in his girdle. But how?--and why?--it seems not right; his lips pressed close to hers, his arms around her in a wild embrace----

'_Asenath!_ my bride!'

Printed in Great Britain
By T. and A. CONSTABLE, Printers to His Majesty, Edinburgh

EDMUND DULAC'S PICTURE BOOK

PUBLISHED ON BEHALF OF THE

CROIX ROUGE FRANÇAISE

COMITÉ DE LONDRES

9 KNIGHTSBRIDGE, LONDON, S.W.

_COMITÉ DE LONDRES_
9 KNIGHTSBRIDGE, LONDON, S.W.

=_Président d'honneur_= =_Présidente_=
S. E. MONSIEUR PAUL CAMBON VICOMTESSE DE LA PANOUSE

=Under the Patronage of=
H.M. QUEEN ALEXANDRA

The work of the FRENCH RED CROSS is done almost entirely by the willing sacrifice of patriotic people who give little or much out of their means. The Comité is pleased to give the fullest possible particulars of its methods and needs. It is sufficient here to say that every one who gives even a shilling gives a wounded French soldier more than a shilling's worth of ease or pleasure.

The actual work is enormous. The number of men doctored, nursed, housed, fed, kept from the worries of illness, is great, increasing, and will increase.

You must remember that everything to do with sick and wounded has to be kept up to a daily standard. It is you who give who provide the drugs, medicines, bandages, ambulances, coal, comfort for those who fight, get wounded, or die to keep you safe. Remember that besides fighting for France, they are fighting for the civilised world, and that you owe your security and civilisation to them as much as to your own men and the men of other Allied Countries.

There is not one penny that goes out of your pockets in this cause that does not bind France and Britain closer together. From the millionaire we need his thousands; from the poor man his store of pence. We do not beg, we insist, that these brave wounded men shall lack for nothing. We do not ask of you, we demand of you, the help that must be given.

There is nothing too small and nothing too large but we need it.

Day after day we send out great bales of goods to these our devoted soldiers, and we must go on.

Imagine yourself ill, wounded, sick, in an hospital, with the smash and shriek of the guns still dinning in your ears, and imagine the man or woman who would hold back their purse from helping you.

Times are not easy, we know, but being wounded is less easy, and being left alone because nothing is forthcoming is terrible. You have calls upon you everywhere, you say; well, these men have answered their call, and in the length and breadth of France they wait your reply.

What is it to be?

Will you please send anything you can afford to
EDMUND DULAC, c/o "THE DAILY TELEGRAPH," LONDON, E.C.

* * * * *

Transcriber's Notes:

Punctuation errors repaired. The note on the publishing of this book appeared at the front and back of this book. That repetition was retained. Also, the note from Edmund Dulac is really loacted in the last story as shown.

Page 7, "ROUSELLE" changed to "ROUSSELLE" on the illustration (OF YOUNG ROUSSELLE?)

Page 9, "LAYLA AND MANJUN" changed to "LAYLÁ AND MAJNÚN" in chapter title (LAYLÁ AND MAJNÚN)

Page 22, "MAJNUN" changed to "MAJNÚN" on the illustration (THAT ONE WORD "MAJNÚN")

Page 102, "104" changed to "103" on illustration reference (HIM p. 103)