Chapter XXII: Part 22

The jeweller had been expected home with great impatience by his family the day he went forth with the man that came to ask for him, and whom he did not know; but no who was quite given over, and it was no longer doubted that some disaster had befallen him. His wife, children, and servants, were in continual grief, and lamented him night and day; but at length, when they saw him again, their joy was so great, they could hardly contain themselves; yet they were troubled to find that his countenance was greatly altered from what it had been before, insomuch that he was hardly to be known. This was thought to have been occasioned by his great fatigue, and the fears he had undergone, which would not let him sleep. Finding himself something out of order, he continued within doors for two days, and would admit only one of his intimate friends to visit him.

The third day, perceiving himself better, he thought he might regain strength by going abroad, and therefore went to the shop of a rich friend of his, with whom he continued long in discourse. As he was rising to go home, he observed a woman make a sign to him, whom he presently knew to be the confident of Schemselnihar. Partly out of fear, and partly through joy, he made what haste he could away, without looking at her; but she followed him, as he very well knew she would, the place in which they saw each other being by no means proper for an interview. As he walked a little faster than usual, she could not overtake him, and therefore every now and then called out to stop. He heard her, it is true; but, after what had happened, he did not think fit to take notice of her in public, for fear of giving cause to believe that he had been with Schemselnihar. In short, it was known to every body in Bagdad that this woman belonged to her, and therefore he thought it prudent to conceal his having any knowledge of her. He continued the same pace, and at last came to a mosque, where he knew but few people resorted; there he entered, and she after him, wherein they had a long converse together, without any body overhearing them.

Both the jeweller and the confident expressed a great deal of joy at seeing each other after the strange adventure occasioned by the thieves, and their reciprocal concern for each other's welfare, without mentioning a word of what related to their own particular persons.

The jeweller would needs have her relate to him how she escaped with the two slaves, and what she knew of Sehemselnihar from the time he had left her; but so great were her importunities to be informed of what had happened to him from the time of their unexpected separation, that he found himself obliged to comply. Having finished what she desired, he told her that he expected she would oblige him in her turn; which she did in the following manner.

When I first saw the thieves, said she, I imagined, rightly considered, that they were of the caliph's guard, who, being informed of the escape of Schemselnihar, had sent them to take away the lives of the prince and us all; but, being convinced of the error of that thought, I immediately got upon the leads of your house, at the same time that the thieves entered the chamber where the prince and Schemselnihar were, and was soon after followed by that lady's two slaves. From lead to lead, we came at last to a house of very honest people, who received us with a great deal of civility, and with whom we lodged that night.

Next morning, after we had returned thanks to the master of the house for our good usage, we returned to Schemselnihar's hotel, which we entered in great disorder, and the more so as we could not learn the fate of the two unfortunate lovers. The other women of Schemselnihar were astonished to see me return without their lady. We told them we had left her at the house of a lady, one of her friends, and that she would send for us when she had a mind to come home; with which excuse they seemed well satisfied.

For my part, I spent the day in great uneasiness; and when night came, opening a little back gate, I espied a boat driven along by the stream. Calling to the waterman, I desired him to row up the river, to see if he could not meet a lady, and, if he found her, to bring her along with him. The two slaves and I waited impatiently for his return; and at length, about midnight, we saw the boat coming down with two men in it, and a woman lying along in the stern. When the boat came up, the two men helped the woman to rise; and then it was that I knew her to be Schemselnihar. I rejoiced so greatly to see her, that I cannot sufficiently express myself.

I gave my hand to Schemselnihar to help her out of the boat. She had no small occasion for my assistance, for she could hardly stand. When she was ashore, she whispered me in the ear in an afflicted tone, bidding me go and take a purse of a thousand pieces of gold, and give to the soldiers who had waited on her. I obeyed, leaving her to be supported by the two slaves; and, having paid the waterman, shut the back door.

I then followed my lady, who was hardly got to her chamber before I overtook her. We undressed her, and put her to bed, where she had not long been before she was ready to give up the ghost; in which condition she continued the remainder of the night. The day following, her other women expressed a great desire to see her; but I told them she had been much fatigued, and wanted rest to restore her. The other women and I, nevertheless, gave her all the assistance we possibly could. She persisted in swallowing nothing which we offered; and we must have despaired of her life, had I not persuaded her to take a spoonful or two of wine, which had a sensible effect on her. By mere importunity, we at length prevailed upon her to eat also.

When she came to the use of her speech, for she had hitherto only mourned, groaned, and sighed, I begged her to tell me how she escaped out of the hands of the thieves. Why should you require of me, said she, with a profound sigh, what will but renew my grief? Would to God the thieves had taken away my life, rather than preserved it, as in that case my misfortunes would have had an end; whereas I now live but to increase my torment.

Madam, replied I, I beg you will not refuse me this favour. You cannot but know that unhappy people have a certain consolation in venting their misfortunes; and if you be pleased to relate yours, I doubt not that you will find some relief in so doing.

Why then, said she, lend your ear to a story the most afflicting that can be imagined. You must know, when I first saw the thieves entering with sword in hand, I believed it the last moment of my life: but dying did not then seem so shocking to me, since I thought I was to die with the prince of Persia. However, instead of murdering, two of the thieves were ordered to take care of us, whilst their companions were busied in packing up the goods which they found in the house. When they had done, and had got their bundles upon their backs, they went away, carrying us along with them.

As we went along one of those who had the charge of us demanded of me briskly who I was: I answered, I was a dancer. He put the same question to the prince, who replied that he was a shopkeeper.

When they were come to the place whither they were going, I had new fears to alarm me; for they gathered about us, and, after considering well my habit, and the rich jewels I was adorned with, they seemed to think that I had disguised my quality. Dancers, said they, do not use to be dressed as you are; pray tell us truly who you are.

When they saw I answered nothing, they asked the prince once more who he was; for they told him they perceived he was not the person he pretended. He did not satisfy them any more than I had done; but only told them he came to see the jeweller, who was the owner of the house where they found us. I know this jeweller, said one of the rogues, who seemed to have some authority over the rest; I have some obligations to him, of which he yet knows nothing; and I take upon me to bring him hither to-morrow morning from another house he has; but you must not expect to stir till he come and tell us who you are; though, in the mean time, I promise there shall be no manner of injury offered to you.

The jeweller was brought next morning, as he said; who, thinking to oblige us, as he really did, declared to the rogues the whole truth of the matter. The thieves no sooner knew who we were, but they came and asked my pardon; and I believe did the like to the prince, who was shut up in another room. They protested to me, they would not have broken open the jeweller's house, had they known whose it was. They soon after took us, (the prince, the jeweller, and myself), and carried us to the river-side, where, having put us on board the boat, they rowed us across the water; but we were no sooner landed, than a party of the horse-guards came up to us.

The rogues fled. I took the commander aside, and told him my name, informing him withal, that the night before I had be seized by robbers who forced me along with them; but having been told who I was, they had re*aleased me, and the two persons he saw with me, on my account. He alighted and paid his respects to me; and expressing a great deal of joy for being able to oblige me, he caused two boats to be brought, putting me and two of his soldiers, whom you have seen, into one, and the prince, and jeweller, with two more, into the other. My guides have conducted me hither; but what is become of the prince and his friend, I cannot tell.

I trust in Heaven, added she, with a shower of tears, no harm has happened to them since our separation; and I do not doubt that the prince's concern is equal to mine. The jeweller, to whom we have been so much obliged, ought to be recompensed for the loss he has sustained on our account. Do not you therefore fail, said she, speaking to the confident, to take two purses of a thousand pieces of gold each, and carry them to him to-morrow morning in my name; and, at the same time, be sure to inquire after the prince's welfare.

When my good mistress had done speaking, I endeavoured, as to the last article of inquiring into the prince's welfare, to calm her mind, which was in some disorder, and to persuade her not to yield so much to love, since the danger she had so lately escaped would be soon renewed by such indulgence. She bid me hold my tongue, and do what she had commanded. I was forced to be silent, and am come hither to obey her commands without any further scruple. I have been at your house, and, not finding you at home, was about to have gone to wait on the prince of Persia, but did not dare to attempt so great a journey. I have left the two purses with a particular friend of mine, and, if you have patience, I shall go and fetch them immediately.

The confident returned quickly to the jeweller in the mosque, where she had left him. She gave him the two purses, and bid him accept them for her lady's sake. They are more than necessary, said the jeweller; and I can never be enough thankful for so great a present from so good and generous a lady: but I beseech you to acquaint her, on my behalf, that I shall preserve an eternal remembrance of her bounties. He then agreed with the confident, that she should find him at the place where she had first seen him whenever she had occasion to impart any commands from Schemselnihar, or to know any thing of the prince of Persia.

The jeweller returned home very well satisfied, not only that he had got wherewithal plentifully to make up his losses, but also to think that no person in Bagdad could possibly come to know of the prince and Schemselnihar being in his other house when it was robbed. It is true, he had acquainted the thieves with it, but their secrecy he thought might very well be depended on, as he imagined they had not sufficient converse with the world to give him any disturbance. He therefore hugged himself in his good fortune, paid his debts, and furnished both his houses to a nicety. Thus he forgot all his past danger, and next morning set out to wait on the prince of Persia.

The prince's domestics told the jeweller, on his arrival, that he came in very good time to make their lord speak, for they had not been able to get a word out of him ever since he was there. They introduced him softly into his chamber, where he found him in such a condition as raised his pity. He was lying in bed, with his eye-lids shut; but when the jeweller saluted him, and exhorted him to take courage, be faintly opened his eyes, and regarded him with such an aspect, as sufficiently declared the greatness of his affliction. He, however, took and grasped him by the hand, to testify his friendship, telling him, in a faint and weak tone, that he was extremely obliged to him for coming so far to seek one so exceedingly unhappy and miserable.

My lord, replied the jeweller, mention not, I beseech you, any obligations you owe to me; I could wish, with all my soul, that the good offices I have endeavoured to do you had had a better effect. But, at present, let us discourse only of your health, which I fear you greatly injure by unreasonably abstaining from proper nourishment.

The prince's servants, hearing the jeweller say this, took occasion to let him know that it was with the greatest difficulty they had prevailed on him to take even the smallest morsel and that for some time he had taken nothing. This obliged the jeweller to beg the prince to let his servants bring him something to eat, which favour he obtained with much intercession.

After the prince had eaten more largely than he had hitherto, at the persuasion of the jeweller, he commanded the servants to quit the room, and leave him alone with his friend. When the room was clear, he said, In conjunction with my misfortune which distracts me, I have been exceedingly concerned to think of what you have suffered on my account; and as it is but reasonable that I should make you a recompence, I shall be sure to take the first opportunity; at present, however, begging only your pardon a thousand times, I must conjure you to tell me whether you have learnt any thing of Schemselnihar since I had the misfortune to be parted from her.

Here the jeweller, upon the confident's information, related to him all that he knew of Schemselnihar's arrival at her hotel, her state of health from the time he had left her, and how she had sent her confident to him to inquire after his highness's welfare.

To all this the prince replied with sighs and tears only; then he made an effort to get up, and, being assisted by the jeweller, made shift to rise. Being upon his legs, he called his servants, and made them open his wardrobe, whither he went in person, and having caused several bundles of rich goods and plate to be packed up, ordered them to be carried to the jeweller's house.

The jeweller would fain have withstood this kind offer; but although he represented that Schemselnihar had already made him more than sufficient amends for what he had lost, the prince would be obeyed. The jeweller thought himself obliged to make every possible acknowledgment, and protested how much he was confounded at his highness's liberality. He would then have taken his leave, but the prince would not let him; so they passed in discourse the greater part of the night.

Next morning the jeweller waited again on the prince before he went away, but he would not let him stir; he must first sit down, and hear what he had to say. You know, said he, there is an end proposed in all things. Now, the end the lover proposes, is to enjoy the beloved object in spite of all opposition. If he loses that hope, he must not think to live. You also know that this is my hard case; for when I had been twice at the very point of fulfilling my desires, I was all of a sudden torn from her I loved in the most cruel manner imaginable: I had then no more to do, but to think of death; and I had certainly proved my own executioner, did not our holy laws forbid us to commit suicide. But there is no need of such violent means; death will soon do its own work by a sure though gentle method; I find myself in a manner gone, and that I have not long to wait the welcome blow. Here he was silent, and vented the rest of his passion only in groans, sighs, and tears, which came from him in great abundance.

The jeweller, who knew no better way of turning him from despair than by bringing Schemselnihar into his mind, and giving him some hopes of enjoying her, told him, he feared the confident might be come from her lady, and therefore did not think it proper to stay any longer from home. I will let you go, said the prince; but conjure you, that if you see her, you recommend to her to assure Schemselnihar, that if I die, as I expect to do every minute, I will love her to the last moment, and bless her with my last breath.

The jeweller returned home in expectation of seeing the confident, who came some few hours after, but all in tears, and in great affliction. He asked, with great earnestness, what was the matter; she answered, that Schemselnihar, the prince, herself, and he, were all ruined. He demanded how. Hear the sad news, said she, as it was told me just upon my entering our hotel, after I had left you.

Schemselnihar had, it seems, for some fault, chastised one of the slaves you saw with her in your other house; the slave, enraged at the ill treatment, ran presently, and, finding the gate open, went forth; so that we have just reason to believe she has discovered all to an eunuch of the guard, who gave her protection, as we have since heard.

This is not all. The other slave, her companion, is fled too, and has taken refuge in the caliph's palace, so that we may well fear she has acted her part in a discovery; for, just as I came away, the caliph had sent twenty of his eunuchs for Schemselnihar, who carried her to the palace. I just found means to come and tell you this, yet I fear no good will come of it; but, above all, I recommend it to you as a secret.

The confident added, that it was expedient he should go and acquaint the prince with the whole affair, that he might be ready on all occasions, and contribute what he was able to the common cause; upon which she departed in great haste, without speaking a word more, or waiting for an answer.

What answer, however, could the jeweller have made, in the deplorable condition he was placed? He stood still as if thunderstruck, and had not a word to say. He was, however, sensible that the affair required expedition, and therefore went immediately to give the prince an account of it. He addressed himself to him with an air that sufficiently showed the bad news he brought. Prince, said he to him, arm yourself with courage and patience, and prepare to receive the most terrible assault ever yet made on your nature. Tell me, in few words, said the prince, what it is I must prepare to receive; for if it be death only, I am ready and willing to undergo it.

Then the jeweller told him all that he had learned from the confident. You see, continued he, that your destruction is inevitable, if you delay. Rise, save yourself by flight, for the time is precious. You, of all men, must not expose yourself to the anger of the caliph, and should much less confess any thing in the midst of torments.

At these words the prince was almost ready to expire with grief, affliction, and fear; he recovered, however, and demanded of the jeweller what resolution he would advise him to take in this unhappy conjuncture. The jeweller told him he thought nothing more proper than that he should immediately take horse, and haste away towards Anbar, [Footnote: Anbar is a city on the Tigris, twenty leagues below Bagdad.] that he might get thither with all convenient speed. Take what servants and horses you think necessary, continued he, and suffer me to escape with you.

The prince, seeing nothing more advisable, immediately gave orders for such an equipage as would be least troublesome; so having put some money and jewels in his pocket, and taking leave of his mother, he departed in company with the jeweller, and with such servants as he had chosen. They travelled all that day and the day following without stopping, till at length, about the dusk of the evening, their horses and selves being greatly fatigued, they alighted at an inn to refresh themselves.

They had hardly sat down, before they found themselves surrounded and assaulted by a gang of thieves. They defended their lives for some time courageously; but, at length, the prince's servants being all killed, both he and the jeweller were obliged to yield at discretion. The thieves, however, spared their lives; but, after they had seized their horses and baggage, they took away their clothes, and left them naked.

In this condition, and after the thieves had left them, the prince said to the jeweller, What is to be done, my friend, in this conjuncture? Had I not better, think you, have tarried in Bagdad, and undergone any fate, rather than have been reduced to this extremity? My lord, replied the jeweller, it is the decree of Heaven that we should thus suffer. It has pleased God to add affliction to affliction, and we must not murmur at it, but receive his chastisements with submission. Let us stay no longer here, but go and look out for some place where we may be concealed and relieved.

No, let me rather die, said the prince; for what signifies it whether I die here or elsewhere? for die I know I must very shortly. It may be, this very minute that we are talking, Schemselnihar is no more! And why should I endeavour to live after she is dead? The jeweller at length prevailed on him to go; but they had not gone far before they came to a mosque, which, being open, they entered, and passed there the remainder of the night.

At day-break a single man came into the mosque to his devotion. When he had ended his prayer, and was turning to go out, he perceived the prince and the jeweller, who were sitting in a corner to conceal themselves. He went up to them; and, saluting them with a great deal of civility, said, By what I perceive, gentlemen, you seem to be strangers.

The jeweller answered, You are not deceived, sir. We have been robbed to-night in coming from Bagdad, and retired hither for shelter. If you can relieve us in our necessities, we shall he very much obliged to you, for we know nobody here to whom to apply to. The man answered, If you think fit to come to my house, I shall do what I can for you.

Upon this obliging offer, the jeweller turned to the prince, and said in his ear, This man, as far as I can perceive, sir, does not know us; therefore we had better go with him, than stay here to be exposed to the sight of somebody that may. Do as you please, said the prince; I am willing to be guided by your discretion.

The man, observing the prince and jeweller consulting together, thought they made some difficulty to accept his proposition; wherefore he demanded of them if they were resolved what to do. The jeweller answered, We are ready to follow you whither you please; all that we make a difficulty about is to appear thus naked.

Let not that trouble you, said the man; we shall find wherewithal to clothe you, I warrant you. They were no sooner got to the house, than he brought forth a very handsome suit for each of them. Next, as he thought they must be very hungry, and have a mind to go to bed, he had several plates of meat brought out to them by a slave; but they ate little, particularly the prince, who was so dejected and dispirited, as gave the jeweller cause to fear he would die. They went to bed, and their host left them to their repose; but they had no sooner lain down, than the jeweller was forced to call him again to assist at the death of the prince. He breathed short, and with difficulty; which gave him reason to fear he had but a few minutes to live. Coming near him, the prince said, It is done; and I am glad you are by, to be witness of my last words. I quit this life with a great deal of satisfaction; but I need not tell you the reason, for you know it too well already. All the regret I have is, that I cannot die in the arms of my dearest mother, who has always loved me with a tenderness not to be expressed, and for whom I had a reciprocal affection. She will undoubtedly be not a little grieved that she could not close my eyes, and bury me with her own hands. But let her know how much I was concerned at this; and desire her, in my name, to have my corpse transported to Bagdad, that she may have an opportunity to bedew my tomb with her tears, and assist my departed soul with her prayers. He then took notice of the master of the house, thanked him for the several favours he had received from him, and desired him to let his body be deposited with him till such time as it should be carried away to Bagdad. Having said this, he turned aside and expired.

The day after the prince's death, the jeweller took the opportunity of a numerous caravan that was going to Bagdad, and arrived there some time after in safety. He first went home to change his clothes, and then hastened to the prince's palace, where every body was surprised that their lord was not come with him. He desired them to acquaint the prince's mother that he must speak to her immediately; and it was not long before he was introduced to her. She was seated in a hall, with several of her women about her. Madam, said he to her, with an air that sufficiently denoted his ill news, God preserve your highness, and shower down the choicest of his blessings upon you! You cannot be ignorant that it is he alone who disposes of us all at his pleasure.

The princess would not give him leave to go on, but cried out, Alas, you bring me the deplorable news of my son's death! At which words she and her women set up such a hideous outcry, as soon brought fresh tears into the jeweller's eyes. She thus tormented and grieved herself a long while before the unfortunate messenger was allowed to go on. At length, however, she gave a truce to her sighs and groans, and begged of him to continue the fatal relation, without concealing from her the least circumstance. He did as she commanded; and, when he had done, she further demanded of him, if her son the prince had not given him in charge something more particular. He assured her his last words were, that it was the greatest concern to him that he must die so far distant from his dear mother, and that he earnestly entreated she would be pleased to have his corpse transported to Bagdad. Accordingly, next morning at day-break, the princess set out, with her women and great part of her slaves, to bring her son's body to her own palace.

The jeweller, having taken leave of her, returned home very sad and melancholy, to think he had lost so good a friend, and so accomplished a prince, in the flower of his age.

As he came near his house, dejected and musing, on a sudden lifting up his eyes, he saw a woman in mourning and tears standing before him. He presently knew her to be the confident, who had stood there grieving for some time that she could not see him. At the sight of her, his tears began to flow afresh, but he said nothing to her; and, going into his own house, she followed him.

They sat down, when the jeweller, beginning the dismal discourse, asked the confident, with a deep sigh, if she had heard nothing of the death of the prince of Persia, or if it was on his account that she grieved? Alas! answered she; what! is that charming prince then, dead? He has not lived long after his dear Schemselnihar. Beauteous souls! continued she, in whatsoever place ye now are, ye ought to be pleased that your loves will no more be interrupted. Your bodies were before an obstacle to your wishes; but now, being delivered from them, you may unite as closely as you please.

The jeweller, who had heard nothing of Schemselnihar's death, and had not observed that the confident was in mourning, through the excessive grief that blinded him, was now afflicted anew. Is Schemselnihar then dead? cried he, in great astonishment. She is dead, replied the confident, weeping afresh; and it is for her that I wear these weeds. The circumstances of her death are extraordinary, continued she; therefore it is but requisite you should know them; but, before I give you an account of them, I beg you to let me know those of the prince of Persia, whom, in conjunction with my dearest friend and mistress, I shall lament as long as I live.

The jeweller then gave the confident the satisfaction she desired; and, after he had told her all, even to the departure of the prince's mother to bring her son's body to Bagdad, she began, and said, You have not forgotten, I suppose, that I told you the caliph had sent for Schemselnihar to his palace; and it is true, as we had all the reason in the world to believe, he had been informed of the amour between her and the prince by the two slaves, whom he had examined apart. Now, you will be apt to imagine he must of necessity be exceedingly enraged at Schemselnihar, and discover many tokens of jealousy and revenge against the prince; but I must tell you he had neither one nor the other, aud lamented only his dear mistress forsaking him, which he in some measure attributed to himself, in giving her so much freedom to walk about the city without his eunuchs. This was all the resentment he showed, as you will find by his carriage towards her.

He received her with an open countenance; and when he observed the sadness she was under, which nevertheless did not lessen her beauty, with a goodness peculiar to himself, he said, Schemselnihar, I cannot bear your appearing thus before me with an air of affliction. You must be sensible how much I have always loved you by the continual demonstrations I have given you; and I can never change my mind, for even now I love you more than ever. You have enemies, Schemselnihar, proceeded he; and those enemies have done you all the wrong they can. For this purpose they have filled my ears with stories against you, which have not made the least impression upon me. Shake off, then, this melancholy, continued he, and prepare to entertain your lord this night after your accustomed manner. He said many other obliging things to her, and then desired her to step into a magnificent apartment, and stay for him.

The afflicted Schemselnihar was very sensible of the kindness the caliph had for her; but the more she thought herself obliged to him, the more she was concerned that she was so far off from the prince, without whom she could not live, and yet was afraid she should never see him more.

This interview between the caliph and Schemselnihar, continued the confident, was whilst I came to speak with you; and I learned the particulars of it from my companions, who were present. But I had no sooner left you, proceeded she, than I went to my dear mistress again, and was an eye-witness to what happened afterwards. I found her in the apartment I told you of; and, as she thought I came from you, she came to me, and whispering in my ear, said, I am much obliged to you for the service you have been doing me, but fear it will be the last. I took no notice of her words, and she said no more to me; but if I had a mind to say any thing to comfort her, I was in a place by no means proper for disclosing my thoughts.

The caliph was introduced at night with the sound of instruments upon which our women played, and the collation was immediately served up. He took his mistress by the hand, and made her sit down with him on the sofa; which she did with such regret, that she expired some few minutes after. In short, she was hardly sat down, when she fell backwards; which the caliph believed to be only a swoon, and so we all thought; but when we endeavoured to bring her to herself, we found she was quite gone, which you may imagine not a little afflicted us.

The caliph did her the honour to weep over her, not being able to refrain from tears, and, before he left the room, ordered all the musical instruments to be broken, which was immediately executed. For my part, I staid with her corpse all night, and next morning bathed it with my tears, and dressed it for the funeral. The caliph had her interred soon after in a magnificent tomb he had erected for her in her lifetime, in a place she had desired to be buried in. Now, since you tell me, said she, the prince of Persia's body is to be brought to Bagdad, I will use my best endeavours that he shall be interred in the same tomb, which may be at least some satisfaction to two such faithful lovers.

The jeweller was somewhat surprised at this resolution of the confident's, and said, Certainly you do not consider that this enterprise is in a manner impossible, for the caliph will never suffer it. Do not you be concerned at that, replied she; for you will undoubtedly be of another opinion after I have told you that the caliph has given liberty to all her slaves in general, with a considerable pension to each for their subsistence; and as to me in particular, has honoured me with the charge of my mistress's tomb, and allotted me an annual income for my maintenance. Moreover, you must think that the caliph, who was not ignorant of the amour betweeen Schemselnihar and the prince, as I have already told you, will not be a whit concerned if now, after her death, he be buried with her. To all this the jeweller had not a word to say, yet earnestly entreated the confident to conduct him to her mistress's tomb, that he might say his prayers over her. When he came in sight of it, he was not a little surprised to find a vast number of people of both sexes, who were come thither from all parts of Bagdad. As he could not come near the tomb, he said his prayers at a distance; and then going to the confident, who waited hard by, he said to her, I am altogether of a contrary opinion to what I was just now; for now I am so far from thinking that what you proposed cannot be put in execution, that you and I need only tell abroad what we know of the amour of this unfortunate couple, and how the prince died much about the same time with his mistress, and is now bringing up to be buried; the people will bring the thing about, and not suffer that two such faithful lovers should be separated when dead, whom nothing could divide in affection whilst they lived. As he said, so it came to pass; for as soon as it came to be known that the corpse was within a day's journey of the city, the inhabitants almost of all sorts went forth, met it above twenty miles off, and marched before it, till it came to the city gate; where the confident, waiting for that purpose, presented herself before the prince's mother, and begged her, in the name of the whole city, that she would be pleased to consent that the bodies of the two lovers, who had but one heart whilst they lived, especially during their amour, might be buried in the same tomb now they were dead. The princess immediately consented; and the corpse of the prince, instead of being deposited in his own burying-place, was laid by Schemselnihar's side, after it had been carried in procession at the head of an infinite number of people, of all conditions and degrees: nay, from that very time, all the inhabitants of Bagdad, and even strangers, from such parts of the world as honoured the Mahometan religion, have had a mighty veneration for that tomb, and paid their devotion at it as often as opportunity would give them leave.

This, sir, said Scheherazade, who now perceived the day begin to approach, is what I had to relate to your majesty concerning the amour of the fair Schemselnihar, mistress to the caliph Haroun Alraschid, and the worthy Ali Ebn Becar, prince of Persia.

When Dinarzade observed that her sister the sultaness had done speaking, she thanked her in the most obliging manner for her entertainment in a history so exceedingly agreeable.

If the sultan will be pleased to let me live till to-morrow, said Scheherazade, I will also relate that of prince Camaralzaman [Footnote: This word, in Arabic, signifies the Moon of the Time, or the Moon of the Age.], which you will find yet more agreeable. Here she stopped; and the sultan, who could not yet resolve on her death, permitted her to go on next night in the following manner.

THE STORY OF THE AMOURS OF
CAMARALZAMAN, PRINCE OF THE ISLES of THE
CHILDREN OF KHALEDAN; AND OF BADOURA,
PRINCESS OF CHINA.

About twenty days sail on the coast of Persia, there are islands in the main ocean, called the islands of the Children of Khaledan; these islands are divided into four great provinces, which have all of them very flourishing and populous cities, and which make together a most potent kingdom. It is governed by a king named Schahzaman [Footnote: That is to say, in Persic, King of the Time, or King of the Age.], who has four lawful wives, all daughters of kings, and sixty concubines.

Schahzaman thought himself the most happy monarch of the world, as well on account of his peaceful as prosperous reign. One thing only disturbed his happiness, which was, that he was pretty old, and had no children, though he had so many wives. He knew not what to attribute this barrenness to; and what increased his affliction was, that he was likely to leave his kingdom without a successor. He dissembled his discontent a long while; and, what was yet more uneasy to him, he was constrained to dissemble. At length, however, he broke silence; and one day, after he had complained bitterly of his misfortune to his grand vizier, he demanded of him if he knew any remedy for it.

That wise minister replied, If what your majesty requires of me had depended on the ordinary methods of human wisdom, you had soon had an answer to your satisfaction; but, as my experience and knowledge are not sufficient to content you, I must advise you to have recourse to the Divine Power alone, who, in the midst of our prosperities, which often tempt us to forget him, is pleased so to limit our discernment, that we may apply only to his omniscience for what we have occasion to know. Your majesty has subjects, proceeded he, who make a profession of loving and honouring God, and suffering great hardships for his sake; to them I would advise you to have recourse, and engage them by alms to join their prayers with yours; it may be, some among them may be so just and agreeable to God as to obtain what they pray for.

King Schahzaman approved of this advice very much, and thanked his vizier for it: he immediately caused rich alms to be given to every monastery in his dominions; and having sent for the superiors, declared to them his intention, and desired them to acquaint their monks with it.

The king, in short, obtained of Heaven what he requested; for in nine months time he had a son born of one of his wives. In return for this favour, he sent new alms to the religious houses; and the prince's birth-day was celebrated throughout his dominions for a week together. The prince was brought to him as soon as born; and he found him so beautiful, that he gave him the name of Camaralzaman; that is, the Moon of the Age.

He was educated with all the care imaginable; and when he came to be old enough, his father appointed him a governor and able preceptors. These distinguished persons found him capable of receiving all the instructions that were proper to be given him, as well in relation to morals, as to other knowledge a prince ought to have. When he came to be somewhat older, he learned all his exercises; of which he acquitted himself with so much grace and wonderful address, that he charmed all who saw him, and particularly the sultan his father.

Having attained the age of fifteen years, the sultan, who loved him tenderly, thought of resigning his throne to him, and acquainted his grand vizier with his intentions. I am afraid, said he, lest my son should lose those advantages in youth which nature and education have given him; therefore, since I am somewhat advanced in age, and fit for a retreat, I have had thoughts of resigning the government to him, and passing the remainder of my days in the satisfaction of seeing him reign. I have undergone the fatigue of a crown a long while, and think it is now proper for me to retire.

The grand vizier would not offer all the reasons he could have brought to dissuade the sultan from such a proceeding; on the contrary, he agreed with him in some measure. Sir, replied he, the prince is yet but young; and it would not, in my humble opinion, be wholly advisable to burden him with the weight of a crown so soon. Your majesty fears, with a great deal of reason, that his youth may be corrupted; but then, to remedy that, does not your majesty likewise think it would be proper to marry him, marriage being what would keep him within bounds, and confine his inclinations? Moreover, your majesty might then admit him of your council, where he would learn by degrees the art of reigning, and consequently be fit to receive your power, whenever you shall think proper to bestow it on him.

Schahzaman found this advice of his prime minister highly reasonable, and therefore summoned the prince to appear before him, dismissing the grand vizier at the same time.

The prince, who had been accustomed to see his father only at certain times, was a little startled at this irregular summons; therefore, when he came before him, he saluted him with great respect, and afterwards stood still, with his eyes fixed on the ground.

The sultan, perceiving his surprise, said to him in a mild way, Do you know, son, for what reason I have sent for you hither? No, may it please your majesty, answered the prince, modestly: God alone knows how to penetrate hearts. I should be glad to know of your majesty for what reason? Why, I sent for you, said the sultan, to let you know that I design to marry you: what do you think of it?

Prince Camaralzaman heard this with great uneasiness; it quite surprised him; he was all in a sweat, and knew not what answer to make. After a few moments, however, he replied, Sir, I beseech your majesty to pardon me, if I seem surprised at the declaration you have made. I did not expect any such proposal to one so young as I am; and besides, I know not whether I could ever prevail on myself to marry, not only on account of the trouble wives bring a man, and which I am very sensible of, though unmarried, but also by reason of their many impostures, wickednesses, and treacheries, which I have read of in authors. It may be, I may not be always of the same mind; yet I cannot but think I ought to have time to conclude on what your majesty requires of me.

Prince Camaralzaman's answer extremely afflicted his father; he was not a little grieved to see what an aversion he had to marriage, yet would not call his obedience in question, nor make use of his paternal authority: he contented himself with telling him that he would not force his inclinations, and gave him time to consider of what he had proposed to him; yet wished him to remember, that, as a prince designed to govern a great kingdom, he ought to take some care to leave behind him a successor.

Schahzaman said no more to the prince: he admitted him into his council, and gave him all the reason to be satisfied that could be desired. About a year after, he took him aside, and said to him, Well, son, have you thoroughly considered of what I proposed to you last year about marrying? Will you still refuse me the satisfaction I desire, and let me die without seeing myself revive in your posterity?

The prince seemed less astonished than before; he now briskly answered his father as follows: Sir, I have not neglected to consider of what you proposed, and, upon the whole matter, I am resolved to continue in the state I am, without concerning myself with marriage, In short, sir, the many evils I have read that women have caused in the world, and the continual mischiefs I still hear and observe they do, have been the occasion of my resolution to have nothing to do with them; so that, sir, I hope your majesty will pardon me if I acquaint you, that it will be to no purpose to solicit me any further about that affair. This said, and making a low reverence, he went out briskly, without staying to hear what the sultan would answer.

Now, any monarch but Schahzaman would have been in a violent passion at such deportment of a son; but he took little notice of it, resolving to use all gentle methods before he proceeded to force. He communicated this new cause of discontent to his prime minister. I have followed your advice, said he, but Camaralzaman is further off than ever from complying with my desires. He delivered his resolution in such arrogant terms, that I had all the occasion in the world for my reason and moderation to keep me from being in a passion. Fathers who desire favours of their children, which they nevertheless can command, have themselves alone to blame if they are disobeyed. But tell me, I beseech you, how I shall reclaim this hardy young prince, who proves so rebellious to my pleasure.

Sir, answered the grand vizier, patience brings many things about which before seemed impracticable; but it may be that this affair is of a nature not likely to succeed in that way. However, in my judgment, your majesty would do well to give the prince another year to consider of the matter; and if, when this is expired, he still continues averse to your proposal, then your majesty may propose it to him in full council, as a thing that is highly necessary for the common good; it is not likely that he will refuse to comply with it before so grave an assembly, and on so necessary an account, whatever he has done before.

The sultan, who passionately desired to see his son married, thought this long delay an age; however, though with much difficulty, he at length yielded to his grand vizier's reasons, which he could no way disapprove.

After the grand vizier was gone, sultan Schahzaman went to the apartment of the mother of prince Camaralzaman, to whom he had often discovered what an ardent desire he had to marry the prince. When he had told her, with tears in his eyes, how his son had refused to comply a second time, and that nevertheless, through the advice of his grand vizer, he was induced to wait yet a longer time for his compliance, he said, Madam, I know he will hearken more to you than me, therefore I desire you would take your time to speak to him seriously of the matter, and to let him know that, if he persists much longer in his obstinacy, he will oblige me to have recourse to extremities that may not be pleasing to him, and which may give him cause to repent of having disobeyed me.

Fatima, for so was the lady called, acquainted the prince, the first time she saw him, that she had been informed of his second refusal to be married, and how much chagrin he had occasioned his father on that account. Madam, said the prince, I beseech you not to renew my grief upon that head; for, if you do, I have reason to fear, in the disquiet I am under, that something may escape me which may not altogether correspond with the respect I owe you. Fatima knew, by this answer, that it was not then a proper time to speak to him; therefore deferred what she had to say till another opportunity.