Chapter XIII: Part 13

Behram immediately recognized him. "Hah, hah," said he, "thou art the man who has ruined me for ever; thou hast escaped being sacrificed this year, but depend on it thou shalt not be so fortunate the next." Saying this, he flew upon him, clapped his handkerchief into his mouth to prevent his making a noise, and with the assistance of his seamen bound him.

The next morning as soon as the city gates were open, Behram and his men easily carried Assad through streets, where no one was yet stirring, to the old man's house, where he had been so inhumanly treated. As soon as he was brought in, he was again thrown into the same dungeon. Behram acquainted the old man with the unfortunate circumstances of his return, and the ill success of his voyage. The old savage, upon this, commanded his two daughters Bostama and Cavama to treat him, if possible, more cruelly than before.

Assad was overwhelmed with terror at seeing himself again in the hands of persecutors from whom he had suffered so much, and expected the repetition of the torments from which he hoped that he had been delivered. He was lamenting the severity of his fate, when Bostama entered with a stick in her hand, a loaf and a pitcher of water. He trembled at the sight of this unmerciful wretch, and at the very thoughts of the sufferings he was to endure for another year, at the conclusion of which he was to die the most horrible death.

Bostama treated prince Assad as inhumanly as she had done during his first confinement. But his cries, lamentations, and earnest entreaties to her to spare him, joined with his tears, were so affecting, that she could not help shedding tears. "My lord," said she, covering his shoulders again, "I ask a thousand pardons for my inhuman treatment of you formerly, and for making you once more feel its effect. Till now I was afraid of disobeying a father, who is unjustly enraged against you, and resolved on your destruction, but at last I abhor this barbarity. Be comforted, your evil days are over. I will endeavour by better treatment to make amends for all my crimes, of the enormity of which you will find I am duly sensible. You have hitherto regarded me as an infidel; henceforth believe me one of your own religion; having been taught it by a slave, I hope your lessons will complete my conversion. To convince you of my sincerity, I first beg pardon of the true God for all my sins, in dealing so cruelly by you, and I trust he will put it in my power to set you entirely at liberty."

This address afforded the prince much comfort. He thanked the Almighty for the change wrought in her heart, He also thanked her for her favourable disposition towards him, and omitted no arguments which he thought would have any effect in confirming her conversion to the Moosulmaun religion. He afterwards related to her the whole story of his life to that time. When he was fully assured of her good intentions respecting him, he asked her how she could continue to keep her sister Cavama in ignorance of them; and prevent her treating him as barbarously as she used to do? "Let not that trouble you," replied Bostama; "I know how to order matters so that she shall never come near you."

She accordingly every day prevented her sister's coming down into the dungeon, where she often visited the prince. Instead of carrying him bread and water, she now brought him the best wine and the choicest victuals she could procure, which were prepared by her twelve Mahommedan slaves. She ate with him herself from time to time, and did all in her power to alleviate his misfortunes.

A few days afterwards, Bostama, as she stood at her father's door, observed the public crier making proclamation, but she could not hear what it was about, being too far off. As he was proceeding in the direction of her father's house, she went in, and holding the door half open, perceived that he went before the grand vizier Amgiad, brother to Assad; who was accompanied by several officers, and other attendants.

The crier, a few steps from the house, repeated the proclamation with a loud voice, as follows: "The most excellent and illustrious grand vizier is come in person to seek for his dear brother, from whom he was separated about a year ago. He is a young man of such an appearance; if any one has him in keeping, or knows where he is, his excellency commands that they bring him forth, or give him notice where to find him, promising a great reward to the person that shall give the information. If any one conceal him, and he be hereafter found, his excellency declares' he shall be punished with death, together with his wife, children, and all his family, and his house to be razed to the ground.

Bostama, as soon as she had heard this, shut the door as fast as she could, and ran to Assad in the dungeon. "Prince," said she, with joy, "your troubles are at an end; follow me immediately. She had taken off his fetters the day he was brought in, and the prince followed her into the street, where she cried, "There he is, there he is!"

The grand vizier, who was not far from the house, returned. Assad knew him to be his brother, ran to him, and embraced him. Amgiad, who immediately recollected him, returned his embrace with all possible tenderness; made him mount one of his officers' horses, who alighted for that purpose; and conducted him in triumph to the palace, where he presented him to the king, by whom he was advanced to the post of a vizier.

Bostama not wishing to return to her father's house, which was the next day razed to the ground, was sent to the queen's apartments.

The old man her father, Behram, and all their families were brought before the king, who condemned them to be beheaded. They threw themselves at his feet, and implored his mercy. "There is no mercy for you to expect," said the king, "unless you renounce the adoration of fire, and profess the Mahummedan religion."

They accepted the condition, and were pardoned at the intercession of Assad, in consideration of Bostama's friendship; for whose sake Cavama's life, and the lives of the rest of their families were saved.

Amgiad, in consideration of Behram turning Mussulmaun, and to compensate for the loss which he had suffered before he deserved his favour, made him one of his principal officers, and lodged him in his house. Behram, being informed of Amgiad and his brother Assad's story, proposed to his benefactor, to fit out a vessel to convey them to their father's court: "For," said he, "the king must certainly have heard of your innocence, and impatiently desire to see you: otherwise we can easily inform him of the truth before we land, and if he is still in the same mind, you can but return."

The two brothers accepted the proposal, communicated it to the king of the city of the magicians, who approved of it; and commanded a ship to be equipped. Behram undertook the employment cheerfully, and soon got in readiness to sail. The two princes, when they understood the ship was ready, waited upon the king to take leave. While they were making their compliments, and thanking the king for his favours, they were interrupted by a great tumult in the city: and presently an officer came to give them notice that a numerous army was advancing against the city, nobody knowing who they were, or whence they had come.

The king being alarmed at the intelligence, Amgiad addressed him thus: "Sir, though I have just resigned into your majesty's hands the dignity of your first minister, with which you were pleased to honour me, I am ready to do you all the service in my power. I desire therefore that you would be pleased to let me go and see who this enemy is, that comes to attack you in your capital, without having first declared war."

The king desired him to do so. Amgiad departed immediately, with a very small retinue, to see what enemy approached, and what was the reason of their coming.

It was not long before prince Amgiad descried the army, which appeared very formidable, and which approached nearer and nearer. The advanced guards received him favourably, and conducted him to a princess, who stopped, and commanded her army to halt, while she talked with the prince; who, bowing profoundly to her, demanded if she came as a friend or an enemy: if as an enemy, what cause of complaint she had against the king his master?

"I come as a friend," replied the princess, "and have no cause of complaint against the king of the city of the magicians. His territories and mine are so situated, that it is almost impossible for us to have any dispute. I only come to require a slave named Assad, to be delivered up to me. He was carried away by one Behram, a captain of a ship belonging to this city, the most insolent man in the world. I hope your king will do me justice, when he knows I am Margiana."

The prince answered, "Mighty queen, the slave whom you take so much pains to seek is my brother: I lost him, and have found him again. Come, and I will deliver him up to you myself; and will do myself the honour to tell you the rest of the story: the king my master will rejoice to see you."

The queen ordered her army to pitch their tents, and encamp where they were; and accompanied prince Amgiad to the city and palace, where he presented her to the king; who received her in a manner becoming her dignity. Assad, who was present, and knew her as soon as he saw her, also paid his respects to her. She appeared greatly rejoiced to see him. While they were thus engaged, tidings came, that an army more powerful than the former approached on the other side of the city.

The king of the magicians was more terrified than before, understanding the second army was more numerous than the first, for he saw this by the clouds of dust they raised, which hid the face of the heavens. "Amgiad," cried he, "what shall we do now? a new army comes to destroy us." Amgiad guessed what the king meant; he mounted on horseback again, and galloped towards the second army. He demanded of the advanced guards to speak with their general, and they conducted him to their king. When he drew near him, he alighted, prostrated himself to the ground, and asked what he required of the king his master.

The monarch replied, "I am Gaiour, king of China; my desire to learn tidings of a daughter, whose name is Badoura, whom I married to Kummir al Zummaun, son of Shaw Zummaun, king of the isles of the children of Khaledan, obliged me to leave my dominions. I suffered that prince to go to see his father, on condition that he came back in a year with my daughter; from that time I have heard nothing of them. Your king will lay an infinite obligation on an afflicted father, by telling him if he knows what is become of them."

Prince Amgiad, perceiving by his discourse that the king was his grandfather, kissed his hand with tenderness, and answered him thus: "I hope your majesty will pardon my freedom, when you know that I only pay my duty to my grandfather. I am the son of Kummir al Zummaun, king of the isle of Ebene, and of queen Badoura, for whom you are thus troubled; and I doubt not but they are both in good health in their kingdom."

The king of China, overjoyed to see his grandson, tenderly embraced him. Such a meeting, so happy and unexpected, drew tears from both. The king inquiring on what occasion he had come into a strange country, the prince told him all that had happened to him and his brother Assad. When he had finished his relation, "My son," replied the king of China, "it is not just that such innocent princes as you are should be longer ill used. Comfort yourself, I will carry you and your brother home, and make your peace. Return, and acquaint your brother with my arrival."

While the king of China encamped in the place where prince Amgiad met him, the prince returned to inform the king of the magicians, who waited for him impatiently, how he had succeeded.

The king was astonished that so mighty a king as that of China should undertake such a long and troublesome journey, out of a desire to see his daughter. He gave orders to make preparations for his reception, and went forth to meet him.

While these things were transacting, a great dust was seen on another side of the town; and suddenly news was brought of the arrival of a third army, which obliged the king to stop, and to desire prince Amgiad once more to see who they were, and on what account they came.

Amgiad went accordingly, and prince Assad accompanied him. They found it was Kummir al Zummaun their father's army, with whom he was coming to seek for them. He was so grieved for the loss of his sons, that at last emir Jehaun-dar declared that he had saved their lives, which made him resolve to seek for them wherever he was likely to find them.

The afflicted father embraced the two princes with tears of joy, which put an end to those he had a long time shed for grief. The princes had no sooner told him the king of China, his father-in- law, was arrived, than, accompanied by them and a small party, he rode to wait upon him in his camp. They had not gone far, before they saw a fourth army advancing in good order, which seemed to come from Persia.

Kummir al Zummaun desired the two princes to go and see what army it was, and he would in the meanwhile wait for them. They departed immediately, and coming up to it, were presented to the king to whom the army belonged; and, after having saluted him with due reverence, they demanded on what design he approached so near the king of the magicians' capital. The grand vizier, who was present, answered in the name of the king his master, "The monarch to whom you speak is Shaw Zummaun, king of the isles of the children of Khaledan, who has a longtime travelled, thus attended, to seek his son, who left his dominions many years ago: if you know any thing of him, you cannot oblige him more than by communicating to him all the information in your power."

The princes only replied, that they would shortly bring him an answer, and galloping back as fast as they could, told Kummir al Zummaun that the king his father was approaching with his army.

Wonder, surprise, joy, and grief, had such an effect on Kummir al Zummaun, that he fainted as soon as he heard he was so near. Prince Amgiad and prince Assad, by their assiduities, at length brought him to himself; and when he had recovered his strength, he went to his father's tent, and threw himself at his feet.

Never was there a more affecting interview. Shaw Zummaun gently upbraided his son with unkindness in so cruelly leaving him; and Kummir al Zummaun discovered a hearty sorrow for the fault which love had urged him to commit.

The three kings, and queen Margiana, stayed three days at the court of the king of the magicians, who treated them magnificently. These three days were rendered more remarkable by prince Assad's marriage with queen Margiana, and prince Amgiad with Bostama, for the service she had done his brother Assad.

At length the three kings, and queen Margiana, with her husband Assad, returned to their respective kingdoms. As for Amgiad, the king of the magicians had such an affection for him, he could not part with him; and being very old, he resigned his crown to him. Amgiad, when he had the supreme authority, did his utmost to exterminate the worship of fire, and establish the Mahummedan religion throughout his dominions.

THE STORY OF NOOR AD DEEN AND THE FAIR
PERSIAN.

The city of Bussorah was for many years the capital of a kingdom tributary to the caliphs of Arabia. The king who governed it in the days of the caliph Haroon al Rusheed was named Zinebi, who not thinking it proper to commit the administration of his affairs to a single vizier, made choice of two, Khacan and Saouy.

Khacan was of a sweet, generous, and affable temper, and took pleasure in obliging, to the utmost of his power, those with whom he had any business to transact, without violating the justice which it became him to dispense to all. He was therefore universally respected, at court, in the city, and throughout the whole kingdom; and the praises he so highly deserved were the general theme.

Saouy was of a very different character: he was always sullen and morose, and disgusted every body, without regard to their rank or quality. Instead of commanding respect by the liberal distribution of his immense wealth, he was so perfect a miser as to deny himself the necessaries of life. In short, nobody could endure him; and nothing good was said of him. But what rendered him most hateful to the people, was his implacable aversion to Khacan. He was always putting the worst construction on the actions of that worthy minister, and endeavouring as much as possible to prejudice him with the king.

One day after council, the king of Bussorah amused himself with his two viziers and some other members. The conversation turned upon the female slaves that are daily bought and sold, and who hold nearly the same rank as the lawful wives. Some were of opinion, that personal beauty in slaves so purchased was of itself sufficient to render them proper substitutes for wives, which, often on account of alliance or interest in families, men are obliged to marry, though they are not always possessed of any perfection, either of mind or body.

Others maintained, and amongst the rest Khacan, that personal charms were by no means the only qualifications to be desired in a slave; but that they ought to be accompanied with a great share of wit, a cultivated understanding, modesty, and, if possible, every agreeable accomplishment. The reason they gave was, that nothing could be more gratifying to persons on whom the management of important affairs devolved, than, after having spent the day in fatiguing employment, to have a companion in their retirement, whose conversation would be not only pleasing, but useful and instructive: for, in short, continued they, there is but little difference between brutes and those men who keep a slave only to look at, and to gratify a passion that we have in common with them.

The king entirely concurred in this opinion, and accordingly ordered Khacan to buy him a slave, of perfect beauty, mistress of all the qualifications they had enumerated, and possessed, above all things, of an enlightened understanding.

Saouy, jealous of the honour the king had done Khacan, and differing widely with him in opinion, said, "Sire, it will be very difficult to find a slave so accomplished as your majesty requires; and should such a one be discovered, which I scarcely believe possible, she will be cheap at ten thousand pieces of gold." "Saouy," replied the king, "I perceive plainly you think the sum too great; it may be so for you, though not for me." Then turning to his high treasurer, he ordered him to send the ten thousand pieces of gold to the vizier's house.

Khacan, as soon as he had returned home, sent for all the brokers who used to deal in women-slaves, and strictly charged them, that, if ever they met with one who answered the description he gave them, they should immediately apprise him. The brokers, partly to oblige the vizier, and partly for their own interest, promised to use their utmost endeavours to procure for him one that would accord with his wishes. Scarcely a day passed but they brought him a slave for his inspection, but he always discovered in each something defective.

One day, early in the morning, as Khacan was mounting his horse to go to court, a broker came to him, and, taking hold of the stirrup with great eagerness, told him a Persian merchant had arrived very late the day before, who had a slave to sell, so surprisingly beautiful that she excelled all the women his eyes had ever beheld; "And for wit and knowledge," added he, "the merchant engages she shall match the most acute and learned persons of the age."

Khacan, overjoyed at this intelligence, which promised him a favourable opportunity for making his court, ordered him to bring the slave to his palace against his return, and departed.

The broker failed not to be at the vizier's at the appointed hour; and Khacan, finding the lovely slave so much beyond his expectation, immediately gave her the name of the fair Persian. As he had himself much wit and learning, he soon perceived by her conversation, that it was in vain to search further for a slave that surpassed her in any of the qualifications required by the king; and therefore he asked the broker at what sum the Persian merchant valued her.

"Sir," replied the broker, "he is a man of few words in bargaining, and he tells me, that the very lowest price he will take for her is ten thousand pieces of gold: he has also sworn to me, that, without reckoning his care and pains from the time of his first taking her under his charge, he has laid out nearly that sum on her education in masters to improve her form and cultivate her mind, besides what she has cost him in clothes and maintenance. As he always thought her fit for a king, he has from her infancy, when he first bought her, been sparing of nothing that might contribute towards advancing her to that high distinction. She plays upon all kinds of instruments to perfection; she sings, dances, writes better than the most celebrated authors, makes verses, and there is scarcely any book but she has read; so that there never was a slave so accomplished heard of before."

The vizier Khacan, who could estimate the merits of the fair Persian better than the broker, who only reported what he had heard from the merchant, was unwilling to defer the bargain to a future opportunity, and therefore sent one of his servants to look for the merchant, where the broker told him he was to be found.

As soon as the Persian merchant arrived, "It is not for myself, but for the king," said the vizier Khacan, "that I buy your slave; but, nevertheless, you must let him have her at a more reasonable price than you have set upon her."

"Sir," replied the merchant, "I should do myself unspeakable honour in offering her as a present to his majesty, if it became a person in my situation to make him one of such inestimable value. I ask no more than her education and accomplishments have cost me; and all I have to say is, that I believe his majesty will be extremely pleased with the purchase."

The vizier Khacan would stand no longer bargaining with the merchant, but paid him the money immediately. "Sir," said he to the vizier, upon taking his leave of him, "since the slave is designed for the king's use, give me leave to tell you, that being extremely fatigued with our long journey, you see her at present under great disadvantage. Though she has not her equal in the world for beauty, yet if you please to keep her at your own house for a fortnight, she will appear quite another creature. You may then present her to the king with honour and credit; for which I hope you will think yourself much obliged to me. The sun, you perceive, has a little injured her complexion; but after two or three times bathing, and when you have dressed her as you think proper, she will be so changed, that she will appear infinitely more charming."

Khacan was pleased with the instructions the merchant gave him, and resolved to abide by them. He assigned the fair Persian a particular apartment near his lady's, whom he desired to invite her to an entertainment, and thenceforth to treat her as a person designed for the king: he also provided for her several suits of the richest clothes that could be had, and would become her best. Before he took his leave of the fair Persian, he said "Your happiness, madam, cannot be greater than what I am about to procure for you; you shall judge for yourself; it is for the king I have purchased you; and I hope he will be even more pleased with possessing you than I am in having discharged the commission with which his majesty has honoured me. I think it, however, my duty to warn you that I have a son, who, though he does not want wit, is yet young, insinuating, and forward; and to caution you how you suffer him to come near you." The fair Persian thanked him for his advice; and after she had given him assurance of her intention to follow it, he withdrew.

Noor ad Deen, for so the vizier's son was named, had free access to the apartment of his mother, with whom he usually ate his meals. He was young, handsome in person, agreeable in manners, and firm in his temper; and having great readiness of wit, and fluency of language, was perfect master of the art of persuasion. He saw the fair Persian; and from their first interview, though he knew his father had bought her purposely for the king, and had so informed him, yet he never used the least endeavour to check the violence of his passion. In short, he resigned himself wholly to the power of her charms, by which his heart was at first captivated; and, from his first conversation with her, resolved to use his utmost endeavours to keep her from the king.

The fair Persian, on her part, had no dislike to Noor ad Deen. "The vizier," said she to herself, "has done me honour in purchasing me for the king; but I should have thought myself very happy if he had designed me only for his own son."

Noor ad Deen was not remiss in improving the advantage he enjoyed of seeing and conversing with a beauty of whom he was so passionately enamoured; for he would never leave her till obliged by his mother. "My son," she would say, "it is not proper for a young man like you to be always in the women's apartments; go, mind your studies, and endeavour to qualify yourself to succeed to the honours of your father."

The fair Persian not having bathed for a considerable time on account of the length of her journey, the vizier's lady, five or six days after she was purchased, ordered the bath in her own house to be got ready purposely for her. She sent her to it accompanied by many other women-slaves, who were charged by the vizier's lady to be as attentive to her as to herself, and, after bathing, to put her on a very rich suit of clothes that she had provided for her. She was the more careful in order to ingratiate herself with her husband, by letting him see how much she interested herself in every thing that contributed to his pleasure.

As soon as she came out of the bath, the fair Persian, a thousand times more beautiful than she had appeared to Khacan when he bought her, went to visit his lady, who at first hardly knew her. The fair Persian gracefully kissed her hand, and said, "Madam, I know not how you like me in this dress you have been pleased to order for me; but your women, who tell me it becomes me so extremely well they should scarcely know me, certainly flatter me. From you alone I expect to hear the truth; but, if what they say be really so, I am indebted to you, madam, for the advantage it has given me."

"Oh! my daughter," cried the vizier's lady, transported with joy, "you have no reason to believe my women have flattered you; I am better skilled in beauty than they; and, setting aside your dress, which becomes you admirably well, your beauty is so much improved by the bath, that I hardly knew you myself. If I thought the bath was warm enough, I would take my turn; for I am now of an age to require its frequent use." "Madam," replied the fair Persian, "I have nothing to say to the undeserved civilities you have been pleased to shew me. As for the bath, it is in fine order; and if you design to go in, you have no time to lose, as your women can inform you."

The vizier's lady, considering that she had not bathed for some days, was desirous to avail herself of that opportunity; and accordingly acquainted her women with her intention, who immediately prepared all things necessary for the occasion. The fair Persian withdrew to her apartment; and the vizier's lady, before she went to bathe, ordered two little female slaves to stay with her, with a strict charge that if Noor ad Deen came, they should not give him admittance.

While the vizier's lady was bathing, and the fair slave was alone in her apartment, Noor ad Deen came in, and not finding his mother in her chamber, went directly towards the fair Persian's, and found the two little slaves in the antechamber. He asked them where his mother was? They told him in the bath. "Where is the fair Persian, then?" demanded Noor ad Deen. "In her chamber," answered the slaves; "but we have positive orders from your mother not to admit you."

The entrance into the fair Persian's chamber being only covered with a piece of tapestry, Noor ad Deen went to lift it up, in order to enter, but was opposed by the two slaves, who placed themselves before it, to stop his passage. He presently caught them both by the arms, and, thrusting them out of the antechamber, locked the door upon them. They immediately ran with loud lamentations to the bath, and with tears in their eyes, told their lady, that Noor ad Deen, having driven them away by force, had gone into the fair Persian's chamber.

The vizier's lady received the account of her son's presumption with the greatest concern. She immediately left the bath, and dressing herself with all possible speed, came directly to the fair Persian's chamber; but before she could get thither, Noor ad Deen had gone away.

The fair Persian was extremely surprised to see the vizier's lady enter her chamber in tears, and in the utmost confusion. "Madam," said she, "may I presume to ask you the occasion of your concern; and what accident has happened in the bath, to make you leave it so soon?"

"What!" cried the vizier's lady, "can you so calmly ask that. question, after my son has been with you alone in your chamber? Can there happen a greater misfortune to him or me?"

"I beseech you, madam," replied the fair slave, "what prejudice can this action of Noor ad Deen's do to you or him?"

"How," returned the vizier's lady, "did not my husband tell you that you were designed for the king, and sufficiently caution you to beware of our son?"

"I have not forgotten that, madam," replied the fair Persian; "but your son came to tell me the vizier his father had changed his purpose, and instead of reserving me for the king, as he first designed, had made him a present of my person. I easily believed him; for, oh! think how a slave as I am, accustomed from my infant years to the laws of servitude, could or ought to resist him! I must own I did it with the less reluctance, on account of the affection for him, which the freedom of our conversation and daily intercourse has excited in my heart. I could without regret resign the hope of ever being the king's, and think myself perfectly happy in spending my whole life with Noor ad Deen."

At this discourse of the fair Persian's, the vizier's lady exclaimed, "Would to God that what you say were true! I should hear it with joy; but, believe me, Noor ad Deen has deceived you; for it is impossible his father should ever make him such a present. Ah! wretched youth, how miserable has he made me! and more especially his father, by the dismal consequences we must all expect to share with him! Neither my prayers nor tears will be able to prevail, or obtain a pardon for him; for as soon as his father hears of his violence to you, he will inevitably sacrifice him to his resentment." At these words she wept bitterly; and the slaves, who were as much alarmed for Noor ad Deen as herself, joined in her tears.

Shortly after the vizier Khacan entered; and being surprised to find his lady and her slaves all in tears, and the fair Persian very melancholy asked the reason; but instead of answering him his wife and the slaves continued weeping and lamenting. This astonished him still more; at last, addressing himself to his wife, "I command you," said he, "to let me know the reason of your tears, and to tell me the whole truth."

The disconsolate lady could no longer refuse to satisfy her husband. "Sir," said she, "first promise not to use me unkindly on account of what I shall inform you, since I assure you, that what has happened has not been occasioned by any fault of mine." Without waiting for his answer, she then proceeded, "whilst I was bathing with my women, your son seizing that fatal opportunity to ruin us both, came hither, and made the fair Persian believe, that instead of reserving her for the king, you had given her to him as a present. I will not say what he did after such a wicked falsehood, but shall leave you to judge. This is the cause of my affliction, on your account, and his, for whom I want confidence to implore your pardon."

It is impossible to express the vizier Khacan's distraction at this account of the insolence of his son. "Ah!" cried he, beating his breast, and tearing his beard, "miserable son! unworthy of life! hast thou at last thrown thy father from the highest pinnacle of happiness into a misfortune that must inevitably involve thee also in his ruin? neither will the king be satisfied with thy blood or mine, to avenge the affront offered to his royal person."

His lady endeavoured to comfort him. "Afflict yourself no more," said she; "I shall easily raise, with part of my jewels, ten thousand pieces of gold, and you may buy another slave, more beautiful and more worthy of the king."

"Ah!" replied the vizier, "could you think me capable of being so extremely afflicted at losing ten thousand pieces of gold? It is not that loss, nor the loss of all I am worth, for that I should not feel; but the forfeiting my honour, more precious than all the riches in the world, that distresses me." "However," replied the lady, "a loss that can be repaired by money cannot be so very great."

"How!" exclaimed the vizier; "do you not know that Saouy is my mortal enemy; and as soon as this affair comes to his knowledge, do you think he will not exult over me before the king? Your majesty,' will he not say to him, is always talking of Khacan's zeal and affection for your service; but see what a proof he has lately given of his claim to the regard you have hitherto shewn him. He has received ten thousand pieces of gold to buy a slave; and, to do him justice, he has most honourably acquitted himself of that commission, by purchasing the most beautiful that ever eyes beheld; but, instead of bringing her to your majesty, he has thought it better to make a present of her to his son. "Here, my son," said he, "take this slave, since thou art more worthy of her than the king."' Then, with his usual malice, will he not go on, His son has her now entirely in his possession, and every day revels in her arms, without the least disturbance. This, sir, is the exact truth, that I have done myself the honour of acquainting you with; and if your majesty questions my veracity, you may easily satisfy yourself.' Do you not plainly see," continued the vizier, "how, upon such a malicious insinuation as this, I am every moment liable to have my house forced by the king's guards, and the fair Persian taken from me, besides a thousand other misfortunes that will unavoidably follow?" "Sir," replied the vizier's lady to her husband, "I am sensible the malice of Saouy is very great, and that, if he have but the least intimation of this affair, he will certainly give it a turn very disadvantageous to your interest; but how is it possible that he or any one else should know what has been privately transacted in your family? Suppose it comes to the king's ears, and he should ask you about it; cannot you say, that upon a strict examination you did not deem the slave so fit for his majesty's use as you had at first thought her; that the merchant has cheated you; that, indeed, she has considerable beauty, but is by no means so accomplished as she had been represented. The king will certainly believe what you say, and Saouy be vexed to the soul, to see all his malicious design of ruining you disappointed. Take courage then, and, if you will follow my advice, send for all the brokers, tell them you do not like the fair Persian, and order them to be as expeditious as possible in procuring for you another slave."

As this advice appeared rational to the vizier Khacan, and as his passion began to cool, he resolved to abide by it, but his indignation against his son remained as violent as ever.

Noor ad Deen did not make his appearance during the whole of that day, and not daring to hide himself among his young companions, lest his father should search for him in their houses, he went a little way out of town, and took sanctuary in a garden, where he had never been before, and where he was totally unknown. He did not return home till it was very late, when he knew his father was in bed; and then his mother's women, opening the door very softly; admitted him without any noise. He quitted the house again next morning before his father was stirring; and this plan he pursued for a whole month, to his great mortification. Indeed, the women never flattered him, but told him plainly, his father's anger was not at all diminished, and that he protested if he came into his sight he would certainly kill him.

The vizier's lady learnt from her women that Noor ad Deen slept every night in the house, but she could not summon resolution to supplicate her husband for his pardon. At last, however, she ventured. One day she said to him, "I have hitherto been silent, sir, not daring to take the liberty of talking to you about your son; but now give me leave to ask what you design to do with him? It is impossible for a son to have acted more criminally towards a father than he has done, in depriving you of the honour and gratification of presenting to the king a slave so accomplished as the fair Persian. This I acknowledge; but, after all, are you resolved to destroy him, and, instead of a light evil no more to be thought of, to draw upon yourself a far greater than perhaps you at present apprehend? Are you not afraid that the malicious world, which inquires after the reason of your son's absconding, may find out the true cause, which you are so desirous of concealing? Should that happen, you would justly fall into a misfortune, which it is so much your interest to avoid."

"Madam," returned the vizier, "there is much reason in what you have urged; but I cannot think of pardoning our son, till I have mortified him as he deserves." "He will be sufficiently mortified," replied the lady, "if you will only do what has just suggested itself to my mind. Your son comes home every night after you have retired; he sleeps here, and steals out every morning before you are stirring. Wait for his coming in to-night, make as if you designed to kill him, upon which I will run to his assistance, and when he finds he owes his life entirely to my prayers and entreaties, you may oblige him to take the fair Persian on what condition you please. He loves her, and I am well satisfied the fair slave has no aversion for him."

Khacan readily consented to this stratagem. Accordingly, when Noor ad Deen came at the usual hour, before the door was opened, he placed himself behind it: as soon as he entered, he rushed suddenly upon him, and got him down under his feet. Noor ad Deen, lifting up his head, saw his father with a dagger in his hand, ready to stab him.

At that instant his mother arrived, and catching hold of the vizier's arm, cried, "Sir, what are you doing?" "Let me alone," replied the vizier, "that I may kill this base, unworthy son." "You shall kill me first," returned the mother; "never will I suffer you to imbue your hands in your own blood." Noor ad Deen improved this moment. "My father," cried he with tears in his eyes, "I implore your clemency and compassion; nor must you deny me pardon, since I ask it in his name before whom we must all appear at the last day."

Khacan suffered the dagger to be taken out of his hand; and as soon as Noor ad Deen was released, he threw himself at his father's feet and kissed them, to shew how sincerely he repented of having offended him. "Son," said the vizier, "return thanks to your mother, since it is for her sake I pardon you. I propose also to give you the fair Persian, on condition that you will bind yourself by an oath not to regard her any longer as a slave, but as your wife; that you will not sell her, nor ever be divorced from her. As she possesses an excellent understanding, and abundantly more wit and prudence than yourself, I doubt not but that she will be able to moderate those rash sallies of youth, which are otherwise so likely to effect your ruin."

Noor ad Deen, who little expected such indulgent treatment, returned his father a thousand thanks, and the fair Persian and he were well pleased with being united to each other.

The vizier Khacan, without waiting for the king's inquiries about the success of the commission he had given him, took particular care to mention the subject often, representing to his majesty the many difficulties he met, and how fearful he was of not acquitting himself to his majesty's satisfaction. In short, he managed the business with so much address, that the king insensibly forgot it. Though Saouy had gained some intimation of the transaction, yet Khacan was so much in the king's favour, that he was afraid to divulge what he had heard.

This delicate affair had now been kept rather more than a year with greater secrecy than the vizier at first expected, when being one day in the bath, and some important business obliging him to leave it, warm as he was, the air, which was then cold, struck to his breast, caused a defluxion to fall upon his lungs, which threw him into a violent fever, and confined him to his bed. His illness increasing every day, and perceiving he had not long to live, he thus addressed himself to his son, who never quitted him during the whole of his illness: "My son," said he, "I know not whether I have well employed the riches heaven has blessed me with, but you see they are not able to save me from the hands of death. The last thing I desire of you with my dying breath is, that you would be mindful of the promise you made me concerning the fair Persian, and in this assurance I shall die content."

These were the vizier Khacan's last words. He expired a few moments after, and left his family, the court, and the whole city, in great affliction, The king lamented him as a wise, zealous, and faithful minister; and the people bewailed him as their protector and benefactor.. Never was there a funeral in Bussorah solemnized with greater pomp and magnificence. The viziers, emirs, and in general all the grandees of the court, strove for the honour of bearing his coffin, one after another, upon their shoulders, to the place of burial; and both rich and poor accompanied him, dissolved in tears.

Noor ad Deen exhibited all the demonstrations of a sorrow proportioned to the loss he had sustained, and long refrained from seeing any company. At last he admitted of a visit from an intimate acquaintance. His friend endeavoured to comfort him; and finding him inclined to hear reason, told him, that having paid what was due to the memory of his father, and fully satisfied all that decency required of him, it was now high time to appear again in the world, to converse with his friends, and maintain a character suitable to his birth and talents. "For," continued he, "though we should sin against the laws both of nature and society, and be thought insensible, if on the death of our fathers we neglected to pay them the duties which filial love imposes upon us; yet having performed these, and put it out of the power of any to reproach us for our conduct, it behoves us to return to the world, and our customary occupations. Dry up your tears then, and reassume that wonted air of gaiety which has always inspired with joy those who have had the honour of your friendship."

This advice seemed too reasonable to be rejected, and had Noor ad Deen strictly abided by it, he would certainly have avoided all the misfortunes that afterwards befell him. He entertained his friend honourably; and when he took his leave, desired him to come again the next day, and bring with him three or four friends of their acquaintance. By this means he insensibly fell into the society of about ten young men nearly of his own age, with whom he spent his time in continual feasting and entertainments; and scarcely a day passed but he made every one of them some considerable present.

The fair Persian, who never approved of his extravagant way of living, often spoke her mind freely. "I question not," said she, "but the vizier your father has left you an ample fortune: but great as it may be, be not displeased with your slave for telling you, that at this rate of living you will quickly see an end of it. We may sometimes indeed treat our friends, and be merry with them; but to make a daily practice of it, is certainly the high road to ruin and destruction: for your own honour and reputation, you would do better to follow the footsteps of your deceased father, that in time you may rise to that dignity by which he acquired so much glory and renown."

Noor ad Deen hearkened to the fair Persian with a smile: and when she had done, "My charmer," said he, with the same air of gaiety, "say no more of that; let us talk of nothing but mirth and pleasure. In my father's lifetime I was always under restraint; and I am now resolved to enjoy the liberty I so much sighed for before his death. It will be time enough for me hereafter to think of leading the sober, regular life you talk of; and a man of my age ought to taste the pleasures of youth."

What contributed still more to the ruin of Noor ad Deen's fortune, was his unwillingness to reckon with his steward; for whenever he brought in his accounts, he still sent him away without examining them: "Go, go," said he, "I trust wholly to your honesty; only take care to provide good entertainments for my friends."

"You are the master, sir," replied he, "and I but the steward; however, you would do well to think upon the proverb, He that spends much, and has but little, must at last insensibly be reduced to poverty.' You are not contented with keeping an extravagant table, but you must lavish away your estate with both hands: and were your coffers as large as mountains, they would not be sufficient to maintain you." "Begone," replied Noor ad Deen, "I want not your grave lessons; only take care to provide good eating and drinking, and trouble your head no farther about the rest."

In the meantime, Noor ad Deen's friends were constant guests at his table, and never failed to take advantage of the easiness of his temper. They praised and flattered him, extolling his most indifferent actions; but, above all, they took particular care to commend whatever belonged to him; and in this they found their account. "Sir," said one of them, "I came the other day by your estate that lies in such a place; nothing can be so magnificent or so handsomely furnished as your house; and the garden belonging to it is a paradise upon earth." "I am very glad it pleases you," replied Noor ad Deen: "bring me pen, ink, and paper; without more words, it is at your service; I make you a present of it." No sooner had others commended one of his houses, baths, or public buildings erected for the use of strangers, the yearly revenue of which was very considerable, than he immediately gave them away. The fair Persian could not forbear stating to him how much injury he did himself; but, instead of paying any regard to her remonstrances, he continued his extravagances, and the first opportunity that offered, squandered away the little he had left.

In short, Noor ad Deen did nothing for a whole year but feast and make merry, wasting and consuming, with the utmost prodigality, the great wealth that his predecessors, and the good vizier his father, had with so much pains and care acquired and preserved.

The year was but just expired, when a person one day knocked at the door of the hall, where he and his friends were at dinner together by themselves, having sent away the slaves, that they might enjoy the greater liberty.

One of his friends offered to rise; but Noor ad Deen stepping before him, opened the door himself. It was the steward; and Noor ad Deen, going a little out of the hall to know his business, left the door half open.

The friend that offered to rise from his seat, seeing it was the steward, and being curious to know what he had to say, placed himself between the hangings and the door, where he plainly overheard the steward's discourse to his master. "Sir," said he, "I ask a thousand pardons for coming to disturb you in the height of your pleasure; but what I have to say is of such importance, that I thought myself bound in duty to acquaint you with it. I am come, sir, to make up my last accounts, and to tell you, that what I all along foresaw, and have often warned you of, is at last come to pass. I have not the smallest piece left of all the sums I have received from you for your expenses; the other funds you assigned me are all exhausted. The farmers, and those that owe you rent, have made it so plainly appear to me, that you have assigned over to others what they held of you, that it is impossible for me to get any more from them on your account. Here are my books; if you please, examine them; and if you wish I should continue useful to you, assign me other funds, or else give me leave to quit your service." Noor ad Deen was so astonished at his statement, that he gave him no answer.