Chapter VII: Introduction (7)

"I grant it all," interrupted the princess. "If there is any prince in the world who is worthy of my regards, it is he. Indeed, I will not deny it, that I grieved for him, before I put my questions to him; I sighed when I beheld him, and--what has never happened till to-day--I almost hoped he would reply to my questions correctly. It is true that, at the same moment, I blushed at my weakness, but my pride got the better of me, and the apt answers he made excited my abhorrence towards him; all the commendations which the doctors bestowed on him so deeply mortified me, that I then felt, and still feel, the most bitter hatred against him. O unhappy Tourandocte, lay thee down and die of vexation and grief, at having found a man, and he a youth, who has been able to load thee with disgrace, and compel thee to become his wife."

At these words she redoubled her tears, and in the transport of her rage spared neither her hair nor her clothes. She raised her hands more than once towards her cheeks to tear them, and punish them as the prime authors of the disgrace she had endured; but her slaves, who were watching her frenzy, prevented her. They tried, however, in vain to console her; they could not calm the fury of her agitation. Whilst she was in this fearful state of excitement, the prince of the Nagaeis, charmed with the result, and overwhelmed with joy, delivered himself up to the hope of bearing off his bride the next day.

The king, having returned from the council-chamber, sent for Khalaf to talk over in private the events which had taken place at the divan. The prince of the Nagaeis hastened to obey the orders of the monarch, who, after embracing him with great tenderness, said, "Ah! my son, release me from the anxiety I am suffering. I fear lest my daughter should be able to answer the question you have proposed. Why have you risked the danger of losing the object of your love?"

"Let not your majesty be under the least apprehension," replied Khalaf; "it is impossible that the princess can tell me who the prince is whose name I have asked, for I am that prince, and no one in your court knows me."

"This gives me fresh hope," cried the king in a transport of joy; "I confess I was most anxious about you. Tourandocte is very shrewd; the subtlety of her wit made me tremble for you; but, thank Heaven, you dispel my doubts. However great her facility of penetrating the sense of enigmas, she cannot guess your name. I can no longer accuse you of temerity; and I see what appeared to me a lack of prudence, is an ingenious device you have formed to remove every pretext for my daughter's refusal."

Altoun-Khan, after laughing with Khalaf at the question proposed to the princess, prepared to enjoy the diversion of the chase. He dressed himself in a light and close-fitting caftan, and enclosed his beard in a bag of black satin. He ordered the mandarins to hold themselves in readiness to accompany him, and commanded a hunting-dress to be given to the prince of the Nagaeis. They partook of a slight repast, and then quitted the palace. The mandarins, in open palanquins of ivory inlaid with gold, headed the procession, each carried by six men; two men armed with whips of cord marched before each palanquin, and two others followed with tablets of silver, upon which were written in large characters all the mandarin's titles. The king and Khalaf, in an open litter of red sandalwood, carried by twenty military officers, on whose dresses were embroidered in silver the monarch's monogram and badges,--the latter consisting of several figures of animals,--appeared next. After the mandarins, two generals of Altoun-Khan's army marched on either side of the litter, carrying large fans or umbrellas to ward off the heat, and three thousand eunuchs on foot completed the cortege.

When they arrived at the place where the hunters awaited the king with the falcons, the sport began by flying hawks at quails; this diversion lasted till sunset, when the king and the prince, and the persons of their suites, returned to the palace in the same order in which they had left. They found in the court several pavilions of silk of different colours, a great number of small tables, beautifully polished and covered with all sorts of viands ready cut up. As soon as the king had taken his seat, Khalaf and the mandarins sat down, each at a little separate table, near which stood another, which served as a buffet. They all began by drinking several bumpers of rice wine before touching the viands; they then proceeded to eat without drinking any more. The banquet ended, the king, Altoun-Khan, led the prince of the Nagaeis into a large hall, brilliantly illuminated, and fitted up with seats arranged for seeing some spectacle, and they were followed by all the mandarins. The king appointed each his place, and made Khalaf sit near him, upon a large ebony throne, inlaid with gold tracery.

As soon as the company had taken their places, singers and musicians entered, who commenced an agreeable concert. Altoun-Khan was delighted with it. Infatuated with the Chinese music, he asked the son of Timurtasch, from time to time, what he thought of it, and the young prince, out of politeness, gave it the highest rank of all the music in the world. The concert finished, the singers and musicians retired, to make room for an artificial elephant, which having advanced by secret springs into the middle of the hall, vomited forth six vaulters, who began by making some perilous leaps. They were attired in very thin dresses; they had on only drawers of Indian cloth, caps of brocade, and light shoes. After they had exhibited their agility and suppleness by a thousand extraordinary performances, they re-entered the elephant, which went away as it came. Next, there appeared players, who performed, impromptu, a piece, the subject of which the king chose. When all these diversions were finished, and the night was far advanced, Altoun-Khan and Khalaf rose, to retire to their apartments, and the mandarins followed their example.

The young prince of the Nagaeis, conducted by eunuchs bearing wax candles in gold candelabra, was preparing to taste the sweets of repose as well as his impatience to return to the divan would permit him, when on entering his chamber, he found a young lady, dressed in a robe of red brocade with silver flowers, and adorned with rubies and emeralds; she wore a head-dress of rose-coloured silk, ornamented with pearls and bound by a very light silver border, which only covered the top of her head, and allowed her beautiful hair to escape, which hung down in ringlets, adorned with a few artificial flowers; as to her figure and face it was impossible to see any more beautiful and perfect except that of the princess of China.

The son of Timurtasch was much surprised at meeting a lady alone, and so beautiful, at midnight in his room. He could not have looked upon her with indifference, had he not seen Tourandocte; but as the lover of that princess he had no eyes for any other.

As soon as the lady perceived Khalaf, she rose from the sofa where she was seated, and upon which she had laid her veil, and after making a low inclination of her head, "Prince," said she, "I doubt not that you are surprised to find a woman here; for you cannot be ignorant that it is rigorously forbidden for men and women who inhabit the harem, to have any communication together; but the importance of the matter that I have to communicate to you, has made me disregard all danger. I have had dexterity and good fortune enough to overcome all the obstacles which opposed my design. I have gained the eunuchs who wait upon you. It now only remains for me to tell you what brought me here."

Khalaf felt interested; he could not doubt but that the lady who had taken so perilous a step, had something to communicate worthy his attention; he begged her to resume her seat on the sofa; they both sat down; and the lady then continued in these terms:

"My lord, I believe I ought to begin by informing you that I am the daughter of a khan, one of the tributaries of Altoun-Khan. Some years ago, my father was bold enough to refuse to pay the usual tribute, and, relying too much upon his experience in the art of war, as well as upon the valour of his troops, prepared to defend himself in case he were attacked. What he expected happened. The king of China irritated by his audacity, sent the most experienced of his generals with a powerful army against him. My father, though considerably weaker in numbers, went out to meet him. After a sanguinary battle, which was fought on the banks of a river, the Chinese general remained victorious. My father, pierced with a thousand wounds, died during the battle, but before his death, he ordered all his wives and children to be thrown into the river, to preserve them from slavery. Those who were charged with the generous, though inhuman order, executed it; they threw me, together with my mother, sisters, and two brothers, whose tender age had kept them with us, into the river. The Chinese general arrived at the spot at the very moment when they had cast us in, and when we were about to finish our miserable existence. This mournful and horrible sight excited his compassion; he promised a reward to any of the soldiers who should save any of the vanquished khan's family. Several Chinese horsemen, in spite of the rapidity of the stream, dashed in, and urged their horses wherever they saw our dying bodies floating. They recovered a few, but their assistance was only of use to me. I still breathed when they brought me to shore. The general took great pains for my recovery, as though the glory acquired by my captivity would bestow a fresh lustre on his victory; he brought me to this city, and presented me to the king, after giving an account of his mission. Altoun-Khan placed me with his daughter the princess, who is two or three years younger than I am.

"Although still a child, I could not help reflecting that I had become a slave, and that I ought to have sentiments conformable to my situation. I therefore studied the disposition of Tourandocte, and strove to please her, and I succeeded so well by my compliance with her wishes and my attentions, that I gained her friendship. From that time I have shared her confidence with a young person of illustrious birth, whom the misfortunes of her family have reduced to slavery.

"Pardon, my lord," she continued, "this narrative which does not bear any relation to the subject that has brought me here. I thought it but right to apprize you that I am of noble blood, that you might place more reliance in me; for the important communication I have to make is such, that an ordinary slave might induce you to give but little credence to what she had to say; and I know not, that even I, though the daughter of a khan, shall be able to influence you: would a prince enamoured of Tourandocte give credit to what I am about to say of her?"

"Princess," replied the son of Timurtasch, interrupting her, "keep me no longer in suspense, tell me, I pray you, at once what you have to say concerning the princess of China."

"My lord," replied the lady, "Tourandocte, the barbarous Tourandocte has formed a plot to assassinate you!"

At these words Khalaf, falling back on the sofa, lay for a moment in a state of horror and amazement.

The slave-princess, who had foreseen the astonishment of the young prince, said,

"I am not surprised that you should thus receive this frightful announcement, and I was right when I doubted that you would believe it."

"Merciful Heaven," cried Khalaf, when he recovered from his stupefaction, "did I hear aright? Is it possible that the princess of China could be guilty of such an atrocious attempt? How could she conceive so base a project?"

"Prince," replied the lady, "I will explain to you how she came to take this horrible resolution. When she left the divan this morning, where I had been stationed behind her throne, I saw that she was mortally enraged at what had taken place; she returned into her apartments writhing under the most bitter feelings of mortification and fury; she pondered over the question you asked her for a long time, and not being able to find a suitable answer, she abandoned herself to despair. While she was in the bath, I spared no means, in which I was seconded by the other favourite slave, to calm the violence of her transports; we tried all in our power to inspire her with sentiments favourable to you; we extolled your person and your talents; we represented to her, that she ought to determine to bestow her hand upon you; we pointed out the unseemliness of such immoderate grief; but she imposed silence upon us, with a torrent of injurious words. The most agreeable and handsome make no more impression upon her than the ugliest and most deformed. 'They are all,' said she, 'objects of my contempt, and for whom I shall always entertain the deepest aversion. As regards him who has presented himself last, I entertain a greater hatred towards him than towards the others, and if I cannot rid myself of him by any other means I will have him assassinated.'

"I opposed this detestable design," continued the slave-princess, "and laid before her the terrible consequences of such a deed. I represented to her the injury she would inflict upon herself, the despair she would occasion the king, and the just horror that future ages would entertain for her memory.

"The other favourite slave supported with all her eloquence the arguments I adduced, but all our persuasions were of no avail; we could not turn her from her purpose. She has entrusted her faithful eunuchs with orders to take your life to-morrow morning as you leave your palace to repair to the divan."

"O inhuman princess, perfidious Tourandocte," cried the prince of the Nagaeis, "is it thus you prepare to crown the affection of the unhappy son of Timurtasch? Has Khalaf indeed appeared so hateful to you, that you would rather rid yourself of him by a crime that will dishonour you, than unite your destiny with his? Great Heaven! how chequered with strange events is my life! At one moment I seem to enjoy happiness that the greatest might envy, at another I am plunged into a whirlpool of misery."

"My lord," said the slave-princess, "if Heaven ordains that you should suffer misfortunes, it does not will that you should sink beneath their weight, since it warns you of the dangers that threaten you. Yes, prince, it is Heaven that has doubtless inspired me with the thought of saving you, for I come not only to point out the snare laid for your life, I come also to furnish you with means to escape. By the assistance of some eunuchs who are devoted to me, I have gained over the soldiers of the guard, who will facilitate your flight from the serail. As they will not fail to make a searching investigation, when they know of your departure, and discover that I am the author of it, I am resolved to fly with you, and escape from this court, where I have more than one cause for discontent; my state of bondage makes me hate it, and you make it still more odious to me.

"Let us waste no time; come, and let to-morrow's sun, when he begins his course, find us far, far from Pekin.

"In a certain spot in the town," continued she, "horses await us; let us fly, and reach if possible the territory of the tribe of Berlas."

Khalaf replied, "Beautiful princess, I render you a thousand thanks for your wish to save me from the danger with which I am encompassed. Oh! that I could, to prove my gratitude, deliver you from your slavery, and conduct you in safety to the horde of the khan of Berlas your relation. With what pleasure would I place you in his hands! I should thereby repay some of the obligations I lie under to him. But I ask you, princess, ought I thus to steal away from Altoun-Khan? What would he think of me? He would believe that I came to his court for the sole purpose of carrying you off, and at the very time when I should be flying, only that I might save his daughter from perpetrating a fearful crime, he would be accusing me of violating the laws of hospitality. Ah! must I confess it, cruel though the princess of China be, I could never find in my foolish heart to hate her? Whatever misfortune may be in store for me, I cannot consent to so ignominious a flight. I acknowledge that charms like yours would amply repay your liberator, and that my days with you might pass in the greatest bliss, but I am not born to be happy, my destiny is to love Tourandocte; despite the aversion she feels towards me, I should wear out my days in endless sorrow, were they spent away from her."

"Well then, ingrate, remain," cried the lady passionately, interrupting him, "and let the spot in which thy happiness is concentrated be sprinkled with thy blood." Saying these words, she replaced her veil, and quitted the apartment.

The young prince, after the lady had retired, remained upon the sofa in a state of bewilderment. "Must I believe," said he, "what I have just heard? Can she carry her cruelty thus far? Alas! I dare not doubt it, for the slave-princess's expressions of horror at Tourandocte's plot were so natural--the risks she ran in coming herself to warn me of it so great, and the feelings she displayed so unquestionable,--that all are pledges of the truthfulness of her words. Ah! cruel daughter of the best of kings, is it thus that you abuse the gifts with which Heaven has endowed you? O Heaven! how couldst thou confer on this barbarous princess so much beauty, or why adorn so inhuman a soul with so many charms?"

Instead of seeking a few hours' sleep, he passed the night, distracted with the most painful reflections. At length day appeared, the ringing of the bells and beating of drums was again heard, and shortly after six mandarins arrived to conduct him to the council-chamber, as on the preceding day. He traversed the court where the soldiers were arranged in two files: he expected to meet his death at this spot, and that it was here the persons who had been appointed to assassinate him were posted, in order to despatch him as he passed. Far from thinking of defending himself or putting himself upon his guard, he walked on like a man prepared to die; he even appeared to chide the delay of his assassins. He passed through the court, however, without any attack being made upon him, and reached the first hall of the divan. "Ah! doubtless it is here," thought he, "that the sanguinary order of the princess is to be put in execution." He looked around him on all sides, and thought he saw in every one he surveyed a murderer. He nevertheless advanced and entered the hall where the council was sitting, without receiving the deadly stroke which he thought awaited him.

All the doctors and mandarins were already seated under their canopies, and Altoun-Khan was momentarily expected. "What can be the design of the princess?" thought he. "Can she wish to be an eye-witness of my death, and does she desire to have me assassinated before the eyes of her father? Can the king be an accomplice in the deed? What am I to think? Can he have changed his mind, and issued the order for my death?"

Whilst his thoughts were occupied with these doubts, the door of the inner palace opened, and the king, accompanied by Tourandocte, entered the hall. They took their seats upon their thrones, and the prince of the Nagaeis stood before them, at the same distance as on the day before.

When the calao saw the king seated, he rose, and demanded of the young prince whether he remembered having promised to renounce the hand of the princess if she answered the question which he had proposed. Khalaf replied that he did, and again declared that in that event, he would renounce all claim to the honour of being the king's son-in-law. The calao then addressed Tourandocte, and said, "And you, great princess, you are aware of the oath that binds you, and of the penalty to which you are subjected if you do not this day declare the name of the prince, which you are required to give."

The king, persuaded that she could not reply to the question of Khalaf, said to her, "My daughter, you have had ample time to consider the question which was proposed to you; but if you had a whole year to think of it, I believe that in spite of your sagacity you would be obliged, at the end of it, to acknowledge that it is something which even you could not reveal. So, as you cannot guess, yield with good grace to the love of this young prince, and satisfy the wish I feel that he should be your husband. He is worthy of being so, and of reigning with you, after my death, over the people of this mighty empire."

"My lord," replied Tourandocte, "why do you think that I shall not be able to reply to the question of this prince? It is not so difficult as you imagine. I suffered the shame of a defeat yesterday, but to-day I look forward to the honour of a victory. I will confound this rash young man who has entertained so mean an opinion of my talents. Let him put the question, and I will answer it."

"Madam," thereupon said the prince of the Nagaeis, "I ask, what is the name of that prince who, after suffering a thousand hardships, and being reduced to beg his bread, finds himself at this moment covered with glory, and overwhelmed with joy?"

"This prince," replied Tourandocte, "is named Khalaf, and he is the son of Timurtasch."

When Khalaf heard his name he changed colour, a dark mist seemed to cover his eyes, and he fell senseless to the ground. The king and all the mandarins, judging from this that Tourandocte had answered correctly, and had given the prince's real name, grew pale, and sat in great consternation.

After Khalaf had recovered from his swoon, through the attentions of the mandarins and the king himself, who had quitted his throne to come to his assistance, he thus addressed Tourandocte:

"Beautiful princess, you are mistaken if you think you have given a fitting answer to my question; the son of Timurtasch is not covered with glory, and overwhelmed with joy; he is rather covered with shame, and overwhelmed with grief."

"I agree with you," replied the princess, "that at this moment you are not overwhelmed with glory and joy, but you were so when you proposed this question; so, prince, instead of having recourse to vain quibbles, confess honestly that you have lost your right to Tourandocte. I therefore can, if I choose, refuse you my hand, and abandon you to the regret of having lost your prize; nevertheless, I will acknowledge to you, and declare here publicly, that I entertain different feelings towards you to what I did. The friendship my father has conceived for you, and your own merit, have determined me to take you for my husband."

At these words all etiquette was for a moment forgotten; the council-chamber resounded with shouts of joy. The mandarins and doctors applauded the words of Tourandocte. The king approached her, and kissing her, said, "My child, you could not have formed a decision more agreeable to me; by this act you will efface the bad impression you have made upon the minds of my people, and you confer upon your father a joy to which he has long been a stranger, and which hitherto he had hoped for in vain. Yes, that aversion you entertained for marriage, that aversion so contrary to nature, robbed me of the sweet hope of seeing princes of my own blood spring from you. Happily, that aversion has ceased, and what crowns my wishes is, that you have extinguished it in favour of a young hero who is dear to me. But tell us," added he, "how you have been able to guess the name of a prince who was unknown to you."

"My lord," replied Tourandocte, "it was not by enchantment that I learned it; it was by perfectly natural means. One of my slaves sought the prince Khalaf, and had subtlety enough to rob him of his secret, and I hope he will forgive me for taking advantage of this treachery, since I have made no worse use of it."

"Ah! charming Tourandocte," hereupon cried the prince of the Nagaeis, "is it possible that you entertain such favourable sentiments towards me? From what a frightful abyss do you draw me, to raise me to the height of bliss! Alas, how unjust was I! whilst you were preparing such a glorious fate for me I thought you guilty of the blackest of all treachery. Deceived by a horrible fable which darkened my reason, I repaid your good intentions with injurious doubts. Oh! what impatience do I feel to expiate my unjust suspicions at your feet."

Altoun-Khan ordered the preparations for the marriage of Khalaf and Tourandocte to be set on foot, and whilst they were engaged about them he sent ambassadors to the tribe of Berlas, to inform the khan of the Nagaeis of all that had taken place in China, and to beg him to come with the princess his wife.

The preparations being concluded, the marriage was celebrated with all the pomp and magnificence which belonged to the high birth of the happy pair. Khalaf was raised to the rank of the highest subject, and the king himself made a public declaration that, to mark his sense of the esteem and consideration he entertained for his son-in-law, he should allow him to dispense with the customary obeisances to his bride. During a whole month nothing was seen at the court but feasting and pageants, and in the city nothing but gaiety and rejoicings.

The possession of Tourandocte did not diminish the love Khalaf entertained for her, and the princess, who had hitherto regarded men with so much contempt, could not but love so perfect a prince. Some time after their marriage the ambassadors whom Altoun-Khan had sent to the country of Berlas returned, bringing with them not only the father and mother of the king's son-in-law, but also prince Almguer, who, to pay honour to Elmaze and Timurtasch, insisted on accompanying them, with the most distinguished of his nobles, and conducting them to Pekin.

The young prince of the Nagaeis, apprized of their arrival, immediately rode out to meet them. He found them nearly at the gate of the palace. The joy he felt on seeing his father and mother, and their transports on seeing him, can be scarcely conceived, much less described. They all three embraced each other over and over again, and the tears they shed drew forth corresponding signs of emotion from the Chinese and Tartars who were present.

After these tender embraces, Khalaf saluted the khan of Berlas; he expressed to him how deeply he felt his kindness, and more especially his condescension in himself accompanying his parents to the court of China; the prince Almguer replied that, being ignorant of the rank of Timurtasch and Elmaze, he had not shown towards them the respect that was due to them, and thus to atone for any neglect they might have experienced, he thought it his duty to pay them this mark of honour; the khan of the Nagaeis and his wife the princess, however, paid a high tribute to the attentive kindness of the khan of Berlas; they then all entered the palace of the king, to be presented to Altoun-Khan. They found this monarch awaiting them in the first hall. He embraced them all, one after the other, and received them very graciously; he then conducted them into his cabinet, where, after expressing the pleasure he felt at seeing Timurtasch, and his sympathy in his misfortunes, he assured him that he would employ all his power to avenge him on the sultan of Carisma. This was no empty offer, for that very day he despatched orders to the governors of the provinces to march with all speed with the soldiers who were in the towns within their jurisdiction, and to take the route to lake Baljouta, which was chosen for the rendezvous of the formidable army he proposed to assemble there.

For his part, the khan of Berlas, who had foreseen this war, and who wished to assist in the re-establishment of Timurtasch in his dominions, had, previous to his departure from his tribe, ordered the general of his army to be in readiness to take the field at the first summons. He now commanded him also to repair to lake Baljouta with all possible speed.

During the time the officers and soldiers who were to compose the army of Altoun-Khan, and who were dispersed throughout the kingdom, were marching to assemble at the spot indicated, this king spared no pains to express his high consideration for his new guests; he appointed a separate palace to each, with a great number of eunuchs, and a guard of two thousand men. Every day some new fete was contrived for their entertainment, and the king's whole attention seemed turned towards affording them pleasure. Khalaf, although he had now every day a thousand matters to occupy his attention, did not forget his kind hostess; he remembered with gratitude the solicitude she expressed for him; he sent for her to the palace, and begged Tourandocte to receive her amongst her attendants.

The hope that Timurtasch and Elmaze entertained of reascending the throne of the Nagaei-Tartars, by the assistance of the king of China, insensibly made them forget their past troubles; and when Tourandocte gave birth to a beautiful prince, they were quite overwhelmed with joy. The birth of this child, who was named the prince of China, was celebrated in all the cities of this vast empire by public rejoicings.

Whilst these festivities were taking place, news was brought by couriers, sent by the officers who had orders to collect the army, that all the troops of the kingdom, and those of the khan of Berlas, had assembled at lake Baljouta. Immediately Timurtasch, Khalaf, and Almguer set out for the camp, where they found every thing in readiness, and seven hundred thousand men ready to march; they immediately took the read to Kotan, from whence they marched to Raschar, and at length entered the dominions of the sultan of Carisma.

This prince, informed of their numbers, and of the invasion of his territories, by couriers whom the governors of the frontier towns had despatched, far from being alarmed at the number of his enemies, courageously prepared to meet them. Instead even of intrenching himself, he had the boldness to take the field himself, at the head of four hundred thousand men, whom he had hastily collected. The armies met near Cogendi, where they drew up in battle array. On the side of the Chinese, Timurtasch commanded the right wing, prince Almguer the left, and Khalaf the centre. On the other side, the sultan confided the command of his right wing to the ablest of his generals, opposed the prince of Carisma to the prince of the Nagaeis, and reserved the left to himself, where the elite of his cavalry were stationed. The khan of Berlas began the attack with the soldiers of his tribe, who, fighting like men who knew the eyes of their master were on them, soon turned the right wing of their enemies; the officer who commanded it, however, succeeded in reforming it almost immediately. Meanwhile the right wing, commanded by Timurtasch, was not so fortunate; the sultan broke them at the first onset, and the Chinese in disorder were on the point of taking flight, in spite of every effort of the khan of the Nagaeis, when Khalaf, informed of what had taken place, confided the care of the centre to an experienced Chinese general, and rushed to the assistance of his father at the head of reinforcements. In a short time things assumed a different aspect. The left wing of the Carismians was driven back, and in turn routed; the whole of the ranks fell into disorder and were easily broken--the entire wing was put to flight. The sultan determined to conquer or die, and made incredible efforts to rally his soldiers; but Timurtasch and Khalaf gave them no time, and surrounded them on all sides, whilst prince Almguer having defeated the right wing, victory declared in favour of the Chinese.

There remained but one chance of safety for the sultan of Carisma, and that was to cut his way through the ranks of his enemies, and to take refuge with some foreign prince; but he preferred not surviving his defeat to exhibiting amongst the nations his brow despoiled of the diadem; so rushing blindly into the thickest of the carnage, he fell bravely, fighting to the last, and pierced with a thousand mortal wounds, on a heap of slain. The prince of Carisma, his son, shared the same fate; two hundred thousand of their troops were killed or made prisoners, the rest seeking safety in flight. The Chinese also lost a great number of men; but if the battle had been a bloody one, it was decisive. Timurtasch, after thanking Heaven for this signal success, despatched an officer to Pekin to give an account of the battle to the king of China; he then advanced into Zagatay, and seized upon the city of Carisma.

He made a proclamation in this capital that he would not touch the property, or interfere with the liberty of the Carismians; that Heaven having made him master of the throne of his enemy, he intended to take possession of it, and that henceforth, Zagatay, and the other countries which had been under the sway of the sultan, should acknowledge for their sovereign his son Khalaf.

The Carismians, tired of the harsh rule of their late master, and persuaded that that of Khalaf would be milder, submitted readily, and proclaimed as sultan this young prince, with whose merits they were acquainted. Whilst the new sultan took all necessary measures to strengthen his position, Timurtasch departed with a body of Chinese troops with all possible speed to his own dominions. The Nagaei-Tartars received him like faithful subjects, and were overjoyed to see their legitimate sovereign; but he was not content with regaining his throne; he declared war against the Circassians, in order to punish them for their treachery to prince Khalaf at Jund. Instead of trying to appease him by submission, these warlike people speedily collected an army to oppose him. He attacked them, and cut them nearly all to pieces; after which he caused himself to be proclaimed king of Circassia, and then returned to Zagatay, where he found Elmaze and Tourandocte, whom Altoun-Khan had sent to Carisma in great state.

Such was the end of the misfortunes of prince Khalaf, who gained by his virtues the love and esteem of the Carismians. He reigned long and peacefully over them, and never abated in his love for Tourandocte; he had a second son by her, who became afterwards the sultan of Carisma. As for the prince of China, Altoun-Khan brought him up, and chose him for his successor. Timurtasch and the princess Elmaze passed the rest of their days at Astrachan, and the khan of Berlas, after having received from them and their children all the tokens of gratitude which his generosity merited, retired to his tribe with the remainder of his troops.

FOOTNOTES:

[8] The Chinese mourning colour is white.

IV.

THE WISE DEY.

Chaaban, Dey of Algiers, being dead, the Turkish janissaries bethought themselves of electing a new dey; and their intention was to place in this high station an inert, weak, and indolent man, who would allow them to be their own masters, to act as they pleased either with or without justice, and who would never inflict any punishment upon them. Passing through the streets of Algiers, they beheld Hadgi-Achmet, a man of ripe age, seated peaceably at the door of his dwelling, and carefully mending his old slippers, without taking any part either in the outcries, the conversation, or the gossiping going on all around him. Hadgi-Achmet seemed to them to be just the sort of apathetic man they were in search of, a man who would never interfere with any one, would allow them to do exactly as they pleased, and who, in short, would be but the shadow of a dey. They therefore laid hold of Hadgi-Achmet, tore him from his work, led him to the divan, and elected him dey in spite of himself.

Hadgi-Achmet, thus forced to assume the reins of government, wisely examined into the duties of his new position, and set himself to fulfil them with as much assiduity and zeal as he had employed in the humbler task of mending his old slippers. He watched over the interests of the country, and over those of justice, and punished severely all misdeeds which came under his observation; having a stern, strange habit of knitting his shaggy eyebrows and flashing his brilliant eyes whenever any thing mean or wicked came under his notice. All this was very displeasing to the Turkish janissaries, and to several members of the divan. Four of these latter formed a species of plot with the design of bringing Hadgi-Achmet into contempt in the eyes of the public. Now as it was the pleasure of the dey to administer justice himself, and to enquire into the smallest matter that concerned the interests of the people, they thought to render him ridiculous, by begging him one day to judge four distinct matters, unworthy, in their opinion, to occupy the attention of a great ruler.

"Hadgi-Achmet," said one of the members of the divan to the dey, "my lord, here is a culprit who can only be judged by thee, O sun of justice! He is a Tunisian merchant, who has established himself a short time since at Bab-a-Zoun street, not far from the mosque. At first he carried on his trade with tolerable honesty; but by degrees it has been shown that he is nothing better than a rogue, and has cheated a great number of his customers in the weight, the quality, and the value of his goods. Thou knowest well the law which condemns such offenders to lose an ear. This man was seized, carried before the cadi, and his rogueries being but too apparent, condemned by the cadi to lose his left ear, the right being reserved in the event of fresh misdemeanors. But when the man's turban was removed, it was discovered that his left ear was already gone. The cadi, being informed of the fact, ordered the right ear to be cut off. To execute this order, they had to pull the hand of the culprit away from his right ear, and when this had been done, it was discovered that the Tunisian's right ear was missing as well as the left. The cadi therefore sent to inform me, and I, knowing the pleasure thou takest in resolving grave and important questions, have come to submit this one to thy consummate prudence, to thy glorious justice."

Hadgi-Achmet, having heard these words, knit his brows, his eyes flashed fire upon him who had just spoken, and upon all those who were present at this audience; then, turning towards the man without ears, he said,

"Since thou hast always been a rogue, and that nothing could reform thee, I condemn thee all thy life long to wear neither turban nor any head-dress whatsoever to conceal the mutilation of thy ears. Purchasers, on beholding this mutilation, will shun thee if they are wise, for no one is ignorant that a merchant without ears is nothing else than a rogue."

The earless Tunisian went sadly away. Being compelled to exhibit to every one and at all times the mutilation he had undergone, was a far worse punishment than the loss of five hundred ears, if he had had them.

This judgment pronounced, a second member of the divan addressed the dey,

"Hadgi-Achmet, our lord and master, here are two men who are quarrelling upon a question which thou only canst decide by thy profound wisdom. One of these men is the father of a beautiful and promising boy. He had this son and two others. One day, about ten years ago, Ibrahim, his neighbour, who was childless, said to him, 'Chamyl, give me thy youngest son, I will adopt him; he shall live in my house, inherit my wealth, and be happy. If thou desirest it, I will give thee in exchange for thy son my country-house at Boudjareah; thou knowest that the north breeze is wafted there in the hottest days of summer.'

"Chamyl consented to give his son, and took the house at Boudjareah in exchange. Ormed, the son of Chamyl, went to live with Ibrahim, who soon loved him very tenderly, whilst Ormed, if only out of gratitude, soon became much attached to him.

"Chamyl has now lost both his other sons, and having become rich, desires to take back Ormed, saying, 'This child is henceforth the sole hope of my race, the joy of my heart, and I wish him to become my heir.'

"As for Ibrahim, he has lost nearly the half of his fortune, but he has not lost the attachment which he bears to his adopted son. On the contrary, his affection continues daily to strengthen for this child, who is endowed with the finest qualities of mind, and with a grateful and affectionate heart.

"With whom dost thou decree that Ormed shall remain? with his adopted or with his real father?"

Hadgi-Achmet, addressing himself to Chamyl, said, "In what does thy fortune consist?"

Chamyl enumerated his possessions: a house, a ship, several country houses, and merchandise.

"Can these things be removed?" asked Hadgi-Achmet.

"Some of them can," replied Chamyl.

"And the others," replied Hadgi-Achmet; "couldst not thou, if necessary, dispose of them, and buy others with the price?"

"I could," replied Chamyl.

"And the affection which thou hadst for thy sons who are dead, couldst thou transfer it, and bestow it upon other children."

"Ah! that would be impossible," replied Chamyl, sorrowfully.

"Then affection cannot be transferred or exchanged," said Hadgi-Achmet; "and as it forms part of the heart of man, it is of far higher consequence than material things, is it not?"

"Yes, my lord," answered Chamyl.

"So that," continued the dey, "we may say to a man, Sell, or give away, thy possessions; but we cannot, without absurdity, say to any one, Cease to love him whom thou lovest. For which reason, Chamyl, I condemn thee to leave with Ibrahim the child whom he loves, and whom thou voluntarily gavest him when thou hadst affection for thy two sons who are no more. As to thy possessions, thou canst bear them whithersoever thou wilt, for riches are not the heart."

"But I love my son," cried Chamyl, "and I will have him, and him only, for my heir."

"Ah! thou lovest thy son," rejoined Hadgi-Achmet. "It may be so, but thou gavest no proofs of it so long as thy two other children were alive. Moreover, thou hast taken a house in exchange for thy son; it is exactly the same as if thou hadst sold thy child."

"I was poor," murmured Chamyl.

"A lame excuse," said the dey, "for there are many more poor men than rich men, yet we do not see poor men giving up their children for any gain whatsoever."

"No, no! I have not sold my son," cried Chamyl, "and my son is mine."

"No, thy son is no longer thine," said the dey, "for thou art not a father after my heart, and for ten years thy son has been cared for by the man to whom thou gavest him in exchange for a house. Ibrahim has not deserved that the child whom he so tenderly loves should be taken from him, and I order him to be left with him. But since thou wilt have none other than thy son for thine heir, I decree moreover that all thy property shall revert to him after thy death, which is nothing but justice."

Ibrahim then interposed. "My lord," said he to the dey, "Ormed and I have no need of the fortune of Chamyl. What Allah has left to us is sufficient for our wants. Permit Chamyl then to preserve the right of choosing for himself an heir among orphans or poor children, of whom he will now probably adopt one."

"No," replied the dey, "the man who has been able to calmly select one from among his own children and barter him for a house, can never attach himself to the orphan or the unfortunate. I see no reason to alter the judgment I have pronounced. Ormed will have for his inheritance the love of his adopted father and the wealth of his real one."

Chamyl withdrew, greatly incensed at this judgment, which seemed to him unjust, but which appeared highly equitable to the inhabitants of Aldgezaire.

A third member of the divan then addressed Hadgi-Achmet:

"All thy words bear the impress of the wisdom which illuminates thee. It suffices to hear thee, in order to know and venerate thee. If we do not abuse thy patience and thy goodness, it is because both are inexhaustible. Behold," added he, "a woman veiled, according to the law. She accuses her husband of leaving her to perish with hunger, whilst her husband here maintains that the woman tells an infamous untruth, and that he supplies her with ample means for becoming fat and strong; he adds, that the famished locusts from the desert eat not more voraciously than doth this woman, all the while remaining lean and feeble, as thou seest. The woman persists in asserting that her husband scarcely gives her sufficient to languish on like a dying tree, and she claims thy pity and thy justice."

Hadgi-Achmet, having heard these words, knit his brows, his eyes flashed fire upon him who had just spoken, and upon those present at this audience. Then he said, "Mahmoud, dost thou declare that thou affordest sufficient nourishment to thy wife?"

"Yes, my lord," replied Mahmoud.

"And thou, woman," said the dey, "dost thou still maintain that thy husband leaves thee in want of nourishment?"

"Yes, my lord," replied the poor starving woman in a faint voice, and extending her transparent hands and long thin arms, in a supplicating manner towards her master and her judge.

"Art thou poor?" demanded Hadgi-Achmet of Mahmoud.

"No, my lord," replied Mahmoud, "I could support several wives if I wished, but it pleases me to have only this one in my house."

"Ah! thou couldst support several wives," replied the dey; "and why then dost thou not give to this one all she desires, even supposing she devoured as voraciously as the famished locusts of the desert?"

"I never refuse her any thing," said Mahmoud.

The poor veiled woman sighed.

"Well," added Hadgi-Achmet, "since thou art both rich and generous, I will put thee in the position to repel an accusation so disgraceful to thee as that of leaving the woman whom thou hast espoused to perish of hunger. To which end I order that thy wife shall dwell in my palace in the apartments of my women and receive from thee a pension which will enable her to purchase whatever food she may desire. If at the end of a year of peace and plenty she should still possess that feeble voice and that excessive thinness which inspire my compassion, I shall regard her as inflicted with an incurable malady, and will leave her to go and die beneath thy roof; but if, on the contrary, she regains strength and voice, thou shalt be hung, not only for having violated the law which commands the husband to minister to the support of his wife, but still more for having lied before thy lord and thy judge, who knows and ever will know how to punish those who offend him."

Having spoken thus, Hadgi-Achmet cast terrible looks upon all the men present at this audience. Mahmoud withdrew only too sure of being hung next year, and every one preserved a gloomy silence which lasted for several minutes.

Hadgi-Achmet meanwhile resumed: "If there remains any other cause for me to judge, let it be declared."

Then with less self-possession and confidence than his colleagues had displayed, a fourth member of the divan presented himself. "Here, my lord," said he, "is a strange affair which occupies us, and which thou alone canst judge.

"These two men here present are twin-brothers. They have always loved each other, and have never been separated. Their father is just dead. After having deplored his loss, they said to each other: 'The roof of our father's dwelling has sheltered us to this day, let it shelter us still; and let us amicably share all that is left us by our father, arms, vestments, or jewels.'

"But all at once an object presented itself which could not be divided, and for the loss of which nothing else would compensate. The article in question is a holy amulet, which it is said bestows wisdom on him who wears it upon his breast beneath his tunic. Now the two brothers equally desire wisdom, and both would fain possess the precious talisman left them by their father."

Hadgi-Achmet having heard these words, knit his brows, again his eyes flashed fire, as he said to one of the twins:

"Mozza, canst thou not yield to thy brother, who so earnestly desires it, the amulet left you both by your father?"

"No, my lord," replied Mozza, "I could easily reconcile myself to my brother's being richer than myself, but not to his being wiser!"

Hadgi-Achmet turned to the other brother:

"Farzan, canst thou not yield to thy brother the amulet he wishes to possess?"

"No, my lord," replied Farzan, "for wisdom not alone bestows upon its possessor the things of the earth, but those also which belong to heaven, and I desire those above all."

Hadgi-Achmet then ordered Mozza to place upon his breast beneath his tunic the cherished amulet, which being done, he said to the young man:

"I am charmed to find that thou preferrest wisdom to fortune, for wisdom is above all. But dost thou not see that it is wise to be at peace with thy brother, and that to obtain this peace there is no sacrifice too great? To yield to thy brother is the beginning and the end of wisdom; he who yields is ever the best and the wisest. On this ground thou wilt now, I am persuaded, yield cheerfully this amulet to thy brother."

"I repeat, my lord," answered Mozza, "that I will yield every thing to my brother, slaves, diamonds, house--my entire fortune; but I will never willingly give up this sacred amulet: it is the only heritage I covet."

"Ah!" said Hadgi-Achmet, "thou hast not changed thy mind then! well, give me thy father's amulet."

Mozza reluctantly handed the precious talisman to the dey.

"Farzan," said the dey, "place this amulet upon thy breast, and beneath thy tunic."

Farzan obeyed. He had no sooner placed the amulet upon his breast than he felt so lively a joy that he would have embraced his brother had he dared, and his eyes glistened with pleasure.

"Ah!" said Hadgi-Achmet, addressing himself to Farzan, "I perceive that this amulet has great power over thee. Thy heart is opened to wisdom, and thou wilt renounce foolish quarrels, wilt thou not, and yield to thy brother the talisman which he so much desires, and of which he has perhaps greater need than thou?"

"I!" cried Farzan, "rather would I die than part with my father's amulet! I feel myself capable of plunging my dagger into the bosom of any one rash enough to attempt to tear it from me, whoever he might be."