Chapter II: Front Matter (2)

“I will drive this stone down your throat, in order that your thirty-two teeth may choke you.”

The Priest returned hastily to his house, lost in astonishment, and said to his wife:

“In the name of God, wife, light a candle, and count how many teeth I have.”

She counted them and said:

“They are just thirty-two in number.”

The Priest at once returned to the Young Man and said:

“How did you learn the number of my teeth? And who told you?”

“Sir,” replied the other, “I learned the number of your teeth from the number of my own.”

This fable shows that from my own bad qualities I am able to guess yours, for all faults are common.

THE CONVERTED CAT

The Cat, having put on the cowl and become a monk, sent word to the mice and said:

“It is an abominable thing to shed blood. As for me, I will shed no more, for I am become religious.”

Then the mice replied: “Although we saw in you the whole Order of St. Anthony, or of our holy Father St. Mark, we could have no confidence in your hypocrisy.”

The Cat covered herself with a dust rag, and smeared herself with flour. The mice approached her, saying:

“Wretch, we see through your dust rag!”

Then she pretended to be dead, and lay in the path of the mice, who approached her and said:

“Miserable cheat, although your skin be made into a purse, we could not believe that you had given up your habitual knavery.”

This fable shows that when you have once found out a person of dishonest, treacherous, and evil character, you should not trust him, even if he tries to do right, for he cannot change his nature.

THE FOX AND THE WOLF

The Fox deceived the Wolf, telling him that if he delivered a letter to the heads of the village, they would give him food to bring back. When the Wolf reached the village the dogs fell upon him, biting and wounding him. When he returned in a sad plight the Fox said to him: “Why did you not show your letter?”

“I did show it,” was the reply, “but there were a thousand dogs, who did not know the handwriting.”

This fable shows that there are many people ignorant, though brave, with whom it is best not to dispute or to mix, but prudently to keep away from them.

THE HORSE AND HIS RIDER

The Horse complained to his Rider, saying that it was unjust that a fair and powerful creature, such as he was, should be a slave and carry so weak a thing as man.

His Rider replied: “I feed you, I shelter you with a roof, and I show you where water and grass are to be found.”

“But you take away my liberty, and put a hard bit in my mouth. You weary me with long journeys, and sometimes expose me to the dangers of battle,” answered the Horse.

“Take, then, your liberty,” said his master, removing the bridle from his head and the saddle from his back.

The Horse bounded off into the mountains, where grass and water abounded. For many weeks he enjoyed ease and plenty. But a pack of wolves, seeing him in good condition, pursued him. At first he easily outstripped them, but he was now heavy with much nourishment, and his breath began to fail. The wolves overtook and threw him to the ground.

When he found his last hour was come he exclaimed mournfully. “How happy and safe I was with my master, and how much lighter and easier were his bridle and spur than the fangs of these blood-thirsty enemies!”

This fable shows that many people do not estimate duly the blessings of their condition, and complain about those duties, the performance of which is the sole condition of their life and safety.

THE ROSE AND THE BUTTERFLY

A Rose growing in a garden of Tiflis saw in summer time a Butterfly of many colors fluttering in a neighboring flower-bed.

“Poor creature,” said the flower, “how short your life is! You are here to-day and gone to-morrow. But I remain on my stalk, spread my leaves in the sun, and scatter scent on the air without change.”

“I have the power of going into many gardens,” replied the Butterfly. “You are only a prisoner; I can get under shelter when it rains, seek the shade when the sun is hot, and if my life is short, it is a merry one. Besides, your life is short also, and a storm at any moment may throw you to the ground and scatter your red petals in the dust.”

The Rose tossed her head in a burst of rage. “I am at least beautiful and fragrant while my life lasts; but you are no more than a worm with a pair of wings.”

There would have been more angry words between these two had not the lady of the house come that moment and plucked the Rose, while a bird from the bough of an oak-tree swooped down and carried off the Butterfly.

This fable shows that pride and vanity make people very often fancy themselves superior to others, while all are really of no importance, being subject to the same condition of decay and death.

THE ARCHER AND THE TRUMPETER

The Archer and the Trumpeter were travelling together in a lonely place. The Archer boasted of his skill as a warrior, and asked the Trumpeter if he bore arms.

“No,” replied the Trumpeter, “I cannot fight. I can only blow my horn, and make music for those who are at war.”

“But I can hit a mark at a hundred paces,” said the Archer. As he spoke an eagle appeared, hovering over the tree tops. He drew out an arrow, fitted it on the string, shot at the bird, which straightway fell to the ground, transfixed to the heart.

“I am not afraid of any foe, for that bird might just as well have been a man,” said the Archer proudly. “But you would be quite helpless if anyone attacked you.”

They saw at that moment a band of robbers approaching them with drawn swords. The Archer immediately discharged a sharp arrow, which laid low the foremost of the wicked men. But the rest soon overpowered him and bound his hands.

“As for this Trumpeter, he can do us no harm, for he has neither sword nor bow,” they said, and did not bind him, but took away his purse and wallet.

Then the Trumpeter said: “You are welcome, friends, but let me play you a tune on my horn.”

With their consent he blew loud and long on his trumpet, and in a short space of time the guards of the King came running up at the sound, and surrounded the robbers and carried them off to prison.

When they unbound the hands of the Archer he said to the Trumpeter: “Friend, I have learned to-day that a trumpet is better than a bow; for you have saved our lives without doing harm to anyone.”

This fable shows that one man ought not to despise the trade of another. It also shows that it is better to be able to gain the help of others than to trust to our own strength.

THE WOLF, THE FOX, AND THE SHEPHERD’S DOG

A Fox was once carrying home to his young a leveret which he had caught by stealth. On his way he met a Wolf, who said to him, “I am very hungry, and I hope you will not refuse me a taste of your prey.”

“In the name of God,” cried the Fox, “eat your fill; but leave me a fragment for the supper of my little ones.”

The Wolf, however, swallowed the dainty morsel at a mouthful. Although the Fox was very angry he said in a humble voice: “I am glad that your appetite is so good. Farewell. Perhaps some day I will gain for you another meal of equal sweetness.”

When they parted the Fox began to plot how he might revenge himself upon his enemy the Wolf. Now it happened that a Shepherd’s Dog came to the Fox for advice. He asked him how he should destroy the Wolf, who every night kept robbing his master’s folds.

“That is an easy matter,” replied the Fox. “You must put on a wolf’s skin, so that when the Wolf sees you he will make up to you without fear, and then you can seize him by the throat and strangle him.”

The Wolf also came to the Fox for counsel.

“The Shepherd’s Dog,” he complained, “barks when I approach the fold, and the sticks and stones of the shepherds often give me a severe mauling. How shall I be able to kill him?”

“That is easy,” said the Fox; “put on a sheep’s skin, enter the fold with the flock, and lie down with them. At midnight you can strangle the Dog unawares, afterward feast as much as you like.”

Then the Fox went back to the Dog and told him to look out for the Wolf disguised as a Sheep.

When night came the Wolf entered the fold dressed like a sheep, and had no fear, for he saw no dog, but only a wolf at the door. But the Dog saw the fierce eyes of the Wolf and flew at his throat. Meanwhile the shepherds heard the noise, and as they saw a wolf mangling a sheep, they laid on the Dog’s back with their heavy staves until he died, but not before he had strangled the Wolf.

This fable shows how unwise it is to seek help from people without principle.

THE MAGISTRATES

BY

MIRZA FETH-ALI AKHOUD ZAIDÉ

[_Translated by Epiphanius Wilson, A.M._]

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ

SEKINÉ-KHANOUN, a young lady of eighteen, sister of the late Hadji-Ghafour.
AZIZ-BEY, the lover and _fiancé_ of Sekiné-Khanoun.
ZOBEIDE, paternal aunt of Sekiné-Khanoun.
ZEINEB-KHANOUN, mistress of the late Hadji-Ghafour.
AGA-ABBAS, brother of Zeineb.
AGA-SELMAN, son of the sieve-maker, advocate of Sekiné-Khanoun.
AGA-MERADAN, son of the confectioner, advocate of Zeineb.
AGA-HASSAM, a merchant.
AGA-KERIM, chief of the courtiers.
GOUL-SEBAH, servant of Sekiné-Khanoun.
THE PRESIDENT OF THE TRIBUNAL.

AGA-REHIM, }
AGA-DJEBBAR, } Assessors of the Tribunal.
AGA-BECHIN, }
AGA-SETTAR, }

THE INSPECTOR OF THE MARKET.

HEPOU, }
CHEIDA, } witnesses for Zeineb.
QOURBAN ALI, }
HANIFE, }

BEDEL, }
QUHREMAN, } soldiers, witnesses for Sekiné-Khanoun.
GHAFFER, }
NEZER, }

THE CHIEF OF THE BAILIFFS.
ECED, domestic to the President of the Tribunal.
NASSER, a lackey.
A seven months’ old infant.

THE MAGISTRATES

ACT FIRST

Scene I--The Scene is laid in the House of the Late Merchant, Hadji-Ghafour

_Sekiné-Khanoun, sister of Hadji-Ghafour, is discovered standing before the window; she calls to her servant, Goul-Sebah._

SEKINÉ-KHANOUN. Goul-Sebah! Goul-Sebah!

GOUL-SEBAH [_entering the room_]. Here I am, madame. What do you wish?

SEKINÉ-KHANOUN. Have you not heard of the trouble which my shameless sister-in-law is bringing upon me, Goul-Sebah?

GOUL-SEBAH. No, madame. How could I hear about it?

SEKINÉ-KHANOUN. She has given notice to the President of the Tribunal that she objects to his paying over to me the money which my brother had placed in his hands for me. She claims that this sum should revert to her. Good heavens! Goul-Sebah, was ever such a case heard of? I do not know what sin I have committed against God, but things always fall out unluckily for me.

GOUL-SEBAH. Whatever put such ideas in your head, madame? Why should things fall out unluckily for you?

SEKINÉ-KHANOUN. As you are aware, Goul-Sebah, I am desperately in love with Aziz-Bey. For two whole years did the unhappy youth in vain beseech my brother to give him my hand; my brother would not consent, because Aziz-Bey is the son of a heretic, and an officer of government. But now that my brother is dead, and I am free to dispose of my hand as I choose, I wish to enter into possession of the money which he has left me, to provide for my wants in peace, and to fulfil the vow of my heart. And lo and behold, this shameless sister-in-law has protested against the payment of the legacy! We must therefore have all the worry of a lawsuit.

GOUL-SEBAH. Is it not a fact, madame, that your sister-in-law has no right to the legacy left by your brother?

SEKINÉ-KHANOUN. She certainly has none. What right could she have? She was not his lawful wife, that she should inherit his fortune. She has not even a child who could be co-heir to it! I do not really know why she has protested.

GOUL-SEBAH. Do not trouble your head about it, madame. Please God, nothing will be done against you. But make one promise to your servant; I will pray God to bring out your business well, and to grant that you may soon reach the goal of your desires.

SEKINÉ-KHANOUN. What is your desire? What promise do you wish me to make to you?

GOUL-SEBAH. Promise me, when this affair is settled, by the favor of God, and you have come into possession of your fortune, promise me to defray the expenses of my wedding and to give me a husband. What could I desire beside that?

SEKINÉ-KHANOUN. Very well. Do you pray to God that our lawsuit may be quickly ended, and I will give a husband to you also. But start at once, and go to the house of Aziz-Bey, and tell him to come to me; I wish to see what he says about all this. The President of the Tribunal has induced me to ask an advocate to plead my cause. But I have no one in this country excepting Aziz-Bey, and a paternal aunt--and she is, of course, a woman, and what can a woman do for me?

GOUL-SEBAH [_she goes out and at once returns_]. Madame, here comes Aziz-Bey himself at the very nick of time. [_Sekiné-Khanoun closes the window and Aziz-Bey enters the room._]

=Scene II=

AZIZ-BEY [_abruptly_]. See what a mess you have led me into, Sekiné.

SEKINÉ-KHANOUN [_with surprise_]. I! What mess have I led you into? But, tell me, what has happened that you seem so vexed and gloomy?

AZIZ-BEY. Listen to me, Sekiné. You know that two years ago, just as I left school, I fell sick with love for you, so that I had no longer strength to leave the house, although your brother ill-treated me, and made every effort to separate us two. During this whole time, I have proved constant, and have put up with his harshness. My love, so far from being cooled, has grown from day to day, and in the hope that sooner or later we should be united, I have patiently endured all sorts of outrage and persecutions. Meanwhile the moment of our union seemed to be near, and my thoughts became somewhat more cheerful, and I enjoyed a little more peace of mind--and now I learn that I am again to be plunged into misfortune!

SEKINÉ-KHANOUN. What do you say? Speak more plainly, that I may understand your meaning. I do not comprehend you.

AZIZ-BEY. How is it you do not comprehend? Are you not aware that yesterday, Aga-Hassam, the merchant, has sent the wife of the head of the Traders’ Company, that of the mayor, and that of Bagis, the lawyer, to the house of your aunt, to demand your hand of her? Your aunt has given her word in assent.

SEKINÉ-KHANOUN. But my aunt talks nonsense! Who pays any attention to her words?

AZIZ-BEY. I can stand this no longer. You must send at once and call for your aunt, and let me with my own ears hear her declare that you shall never be the wife of Aga-Hassam, or else I must decide to kill Aga-Hassam this very day, and may I succeed in doing so! What is this Hassam? A shopkeeper! He wishes to step into my shoes, to pay court to my _fiancée_, and to cross my path, does he! By God, I will cut his heart out with this dagger.

SEKINÉ-KHANOUN. Very good. I will send to my aunt, and beg of her to come at once. Then I will tell her that I am not, and never will be the wife of Aga-Hassam. When my aunt arrives, you must go into this room, and you will hear what she says with your own ears.--Goul-Sebah!

=Scene III=

GOUL-SEBAH. What is it, madame?

SEKINÉ-KHANOUN. Goul-Sebah, go and ask my aunt to come here. [_Goul-Sebah goes out_.]

=Scene IV=

SEKINÉ-KHANOUN. Well, but come now, whom shall we take for our advocate?

AZIZ-BEY. Advocate? For what purpose?

SEKINÉ-KHANOUN. Alas, he asks me for what purpose! Have they not told you, then, that my sister-in-law disputes the legacy, and wishes to involve me in a lawsuit?

AZIZ-BEY. Yes, I have heard it said, but at present my head is whirling round. First let your aunt come, and when she goes away, I will find an advocate. [_At this moment a footstep is heard, Aziz-Bey returns to the other room, and Zobeide, aunt of Sekiné-Khanoun enters the apartment._]

=Scene V=

SEKINÉ-KHANOUN. Good-day, my dear aunt.

ZOBEIDE. Good-day, Sekiné. How are you? Are you quite well?

SEKINÉ-KHANOUN. Ah! how can I be well, when I have allowed you, aunt, to promise me in marriage to Aga-Hassam? I have neither father nor brother, and am altogether dependent on myself for the management of my life.

ZOBEIDE. Are you not ashamed to speak thus? What! not a blush! Has not all been done in your interest? You need a husband; you must take him who is given to you. It is not proper that young girls should speak in this style before their elder relations. It is shameful! Fie upon you, Sekiné!

SEKINÉ-KHANOUN. Not at all. I have spoken just as I choose; I will no longer surrender my liberty, and no one shall force a husband upon me.

ZOBEIDE. Very good. You do not, then, wish to marry?

SEKINÉ-KHANOUN. No; I certainly do not wish to marry.

ZOBEIDE [_smiling_]. There are many girls who say no, like you; but later on they come to reason.

SEKINÉ-KHANOUN. In the name of God, aunt, do not make fun of me; it is absurd to wish me to marry Aga-Hassam; you may as well give up that idea altogether.

ZOBEIDE. It is not possible for you to recede, my dear niece. You would make enemies for me of all the leading people of the country.

SEKINÉ-KHANOUN. They may go to the devil for all I care. Aga-Hassam is loathsome to me; the very sight of him makes me sick.

ZOBEIDE. Why is that?

SEKINÉ-KHANOUN. He is a low fellow.

ZOBEIDE. He may be a low fellow to everyone else, but to us he is of the first water. He is successful in business, is very rich, and his connections are among the leading people of the province. Where will you find a better husband?

SEKINÉ-KHANOUN. Even if Aga-Hassam were to load me with jewels from head to foot I would never be his wife. Go and tell him to give up all idea of this.

ZOBEIDE. Never. Who, pray, are you, that you presume to go back on the word which I have given? Aga-Hassam sent to me the leading ladies of the land. I am no child, and I, of course, consented to their offer; I had your interest in view, and gave my word to them. Do you wish me to appear in the eyes of the world as an imbecile? I have, I believe, both name and rank; I have a position of dignity, and am an honorable woman.

SEKINÉ-KHANOUN. And so I am to be made unhappy for my whole life in order that your reputation and your honor may suffer no damage! You have laid a strange duty upon me, aunt. By Heaven, I swear that I will never, never marry Aga-Hassam, even though the whole world be brought to ruin. It is I who tell you this, and you must explain matters to him, and make him abandon this proposal. If you do not, I will send for him myself, and I will meet him face to face and give him such a tongue-lashing as he never had before. I will treat him worse than a dog, and send him away with a flea in his ear.

ZOBEIDE [_covering her face with both her hands_]. Oh! Oh! My God! Oh! how the whole world is become topsy-turvy. The young girls of to-day have neither shame nor reserve. Sekiné, I have never before met a girl of such effrontery as you exhibit. I myself have been young, I have had older relatives about me, but from respect toward them I would never have dared to raise my head in contradiction to them. It is because of this effrontery of yours that plague and cholera cease not to waste this province.

SEKINÉ-KHANOUN. No, it is owing to the baseness of certain degraded people that plague and cholera are raging here. This miserable wretch has heard of my fortune of 60,000 tomans, and this is the reason why he sent and asked for my hand. If this were not so, why did he not seek to win me by the avenue of love and inclination? If he desired to espouse me for my own sake, why did he keep his mouth shut, and refrain from breathing a word during my brother’s lifetime?

ZOBEIDE. He might have had no desire to wed you in your brother’s lifetime. But you do well to remind me of the 60,000 tomans. Are you not aware that unless you marry Aga-Hassam he will cause you to forfeit this sum of money?

SEKINÉ-KHANOUN. Why, and in what way will he cause me to forfeit it?

ZOBEIDE. In what way? Why, he will go to your sister-in-law, and make common cause with her. His kinsmen and family will support her claim and confirm her declaration, and you will be compelled to abandon your rights. The reason is palpable; it lies in the greed and devilish trickery of those people whose minds are set on nothing else but the absorption of other people’s fortunes, great and small. And what do you know about such matters as these? Who will listen to your arguments or pleas?

SEKINÉ-KHANOUN. Very good. Let us admit that my rights are to be invaded and my pleas disregarded. Still, I do not understand how a mistress, a domestic servant, can pretend to the legacy that belongs to me. We shall soon be told that there is neither right nor justice in this country, and that everyone can do just what he likes, and as he understands it to be best for himself!

ZOBEIDE. Ah, my child, is there any safeguard from the trickery of mankind? What rights had the wife of Hadji-Rehim in the fortune of her husband? Nevertheless 12,000 tomans in cash and a bathing establishment were stolen from Aga-Riza, the son of Hadji-Rehim, to make a gift for this vile woman. By all sorts of rascalities the advocate of this woman forged a deed of gift, and pretended that Hadji-Rehim in his lifetime transferred to his wife 12,000 tomans, in specie, and a bathing establishment. Five or six persons were produced as witnesses, and in spite of his cries and lamentations, the money and the _hammam_ were stolen from poor Aga-Riza, who utterly failed to obtain justice. You are quite unaware of the diabolical wiles of law officers in this country; no one can escape from the manœuvres of these people, no one can see through these manœuvres and false statements. Do you think that I have promised your hand to Aga-Hassam to please myself? Not at all. I have seen that there was no course to take, and I said to myself that we must accept the situation with a good grace; and that this was the best thing to be done.

SEKINÉ-KHANOUN. Even though all my fortune should be swallowed up to the last penny, I will never be the wife of Aga-Hassam. Go, then, and explain this to him; tell him that your niece refused her consent.

ZOBEIDE. Do not speak in this way, Sekiné. I see your plan. You wish to become the wife of Aziz-Bey, and to mingle the blood of our race with heretics; to bring in those people, and to set them at the head of our family; to do despite to the spirits of our ancestors, and to cover yourself with disgrace. Never, up to this day, has such a thing been seen in our family. How can the daughter of an honest, God-fearing merchant become the wife of an unbeliever? How is it possible?

SEKINÉ-KHANOUN. How do you know that I desire to espouse Aziz-Bey? I wish to espouse neither him nor anyone else. I wish to remain in my own house. Be quick, then, and give my message to Aga-Hassam.

ZOBEIDE. You are a young girl, you have not reached years of discretion, and cannot see your own interests. I have not the slightest intention of going to find Aga-Hassam, and telling him that my niece is unwilling to marry him. I have promised you to him, and he left after receiving my word on it; you may spare yourself further talk on this matter. [_Zobeide rises and goes out._]

=Scene VI=

AZIZ-BEY. You see now what real trouble I am in. I shall go off at once.

SEKINÉ-KHANOUN. Where will you go?

AZIZ-BEY. To this villain, Aga-Hassam, to punish him as he deserves. I can no longer restrain myself.

SEKINÉ-KHANOUN. What is the matter with you? Do not go; remain here. You will otherwise commit some blunder. I intend sending someone from me to this wretch, to tell him to come here, and I will compel him myself to abandon these designs of his.--Goul-Sebah! [_Enter Goul-Sebah._]

=Scene VII=

SEKINÉ-KHANOUN. Goul-Sebah, go to the home of Aga-Hassam, the merchant, take him aside, and tell him that a woman asks for him on a most important errand; but do not mention my name. [_Exit Goul-Sebah. Then Sekiné-Khanoun turns toward Aziz-Bey_.]

=Scene VIII=

SEKINÉ-KHANOUN. By heavens, Aziz-Bey, you are a child whose lips are still wet with your nurse’s milk! Go and look at yourself in the glass and see how red your eyes are from rage. How is it you have so little force of character? This base fellow cannot take me by force.

AZIZ-BEY. You are right; but what can I do when my heart is overflowing. [_Footsteps heard without. Aziz-Bey returns to the other chamber. Sekiné-Khanoun veils her face and seats herself. Enter Goul-Sebah with Aga-Hassam_.]

=Scene IX=

AGA-HASSAM. Good-day, madame.

SEKINÉ-KHANOUN [_pleasantly_]. Good-day, sir. Do you know who I am, brother Hassam?

AGA-HASSAM. No, madame, I do not.

SEKINÉ-KHANOUN. Really! Well, Aga-Hassam, I must inform you that I am Sekiné, the sister of Hadji-Ghafour.

Aga-Hassam [_in astonishment_]. Indeed! I have heard of you. Can I do any thing for you? I am your humble servant and your slave, your domestic, your lackey.

SEKINÉ-KHANOUN. No, Aga-Hassam, let me beg you to be neither my slave nor my servant; be my brother, both in this world and in the next, and give up all idea of marrying me. It is for the purpose of making this simple request that I have called you here; this is all I have to say to you.

AGA-HASSAM [_in confusion_]. But, madame, why do you not permit me to be your slave? What fault have I committed?

SEKINÉ-KHANOUN. You have committed no fault, and it is best that I should speak plainly to you. I am informed that you sent to my aunt to ask for my hand; but it is quite useless for her to give her consent to your demand. I may as well tell you that I am not the person to suit you in this matter; abandon, therefore, your purpose. From henceforth do not name me in connection with this subject again.

AGA-HASSAM. And pray, madame, why is this? Give me the reason. Let me understand why I am not worthy to offer you my services.

SEKINÉ-KHANOUN. The reason I need not explain. All I have to ask of you is to leave me alone.

AGA-HASSAM. But really, madame, I must know what fault I have committed which makes you repulse me.

SEKINÉ-KHANOUN. You have not committed a single fault, my brother. But I am to-day mistress of my own actions, and I do not desire to become your wife. I do not love you; nothing can force the heart to love.

AGA-HASSAM. It is very wrong of you to speak in this strain, madame. Do not repeat such words.

SEKINÉ-KHANOUN. I understand what you mean. Well, do your worst. Spare me, or spare me not, it matters not to me, vile wretch!

AGA-HASSAM. Ah! you will repent of this later on. But think again for a while, and consider whether you have nothing more to say to me.

SEKINÉ-KHANOUN. I have considered the whole question, and I have but one more observation to make. Leave me! and do whatever you will. There is no one more despicable than you are.

AGA-HASSAM [_enraged_]. Are you mad? I intend to lead you such a dance that everyone will talk about it; even to the day of your death you will remember it. [_He rises._]

SEKINÉ-KHANOUN. Begone! Begone! He who fears you is lower than you are. Do your worst against me. Begone!--What does he say? Does he fancy that anyone is afraid of him? [_Aga-Hassam withdraws, and Aziz-Bey comes back into the room._]

=Scene X=

SEKINÉ-KHANOUN. Come in and let me think over matters. One stone frightens away a hundred crows.

AZIZ-BEY. I am going to tell the whole affair to Chah-Zade, the King’s son, and ask him to settle it offhand.

SEKINÉ-KHANOUN. The Prince Royal cannot stop the lawsuit. In any case we must have an advocate.

AZIZ-BEY. The Prince Royal cannot stop the lawsuit; but he can defeat the artifices of a rascal like Aga-Hassam. I must inform him of the affair. My father has long been devoted to his service, and he is well disposed toward me; he has promised to give me employment and to establish me in an office, and to give me my father’s fortune.

SEKINÉ-KHANOUN. That is all very good, but let us first secure the services of an advocate; afterward you can go and tell the whole story to the Prince Royal, and he will see what is best to be done.

AZIZ-BEY. Very good. Whom would you like to have for an advocate? [_At this moment Goul-Sebah enters the room._]

=Scene XI=

GOUL-SEBAH. Madame, a certain individual who professes to have important business to discuss with you is waiting at the door. He asks if there is anyone who can serve as his representative with you.

SEKINÉ-KHANOUN. Certainly, Aziz-Bey is here. Tell the man to come in; we wish to know what he wants. [_Goul-Sebah goes out._]

=Scene XII=

AZIZ-BEY. Do you think it wise that the newcomer should see me with you?

SEKINÉ-KHANOUN. Do people know who you are? Probably you will be taken for one of my family. [_Aga-Kerim enters the room. Sekiné-Khanoun veils herself._]

=Scene XIII=

AGA-KERIM. Good-day to you both.

AZIZ-BEY. Good-day, sir. Be seated, if you please; you are welcome.

AGA-KERIM [_seating himself and turning to Aziz-Bey._] My young master, kindly tell me your name.

AZIZ-BEY. My name is Aziz-Bey.

AGA-KERIM. It is a fortunate name. But Aziz-Bey, may I speak to you on a certain matter in the presence of Sekiné-Khanoun?

AZIZ-BEY. You may address your remarks directly to Sekiné-Khanoun. Do not think that she is frivolous like other young ladies; she delights in conversation, and will not be at all bashful in answering your questions.

AGA-KERIM. She is right. But let me first of all inform you, Aziz-Bey, that I am Aga-Kerim, the chief of the courtiers, and that I was a close friend of the late Hadji-Ghafour. I happened to drop in on business a moment ago, at the house of Aga-Merdan, the son of the confectioner. By chance Aga-Hassam, the merchant, was also there. He greeted me, sat down, and spoke as follows: “I am told, Aga-Merdan, that you are the advocate of Zeineb, the widow of Hadji-Ghafour. I take your side in this lawsuit, and I have something to say to you in confidence.” I saw that they wanted to have a private talk, so I withdrew. I learned, however, that they were plotting against Sekiné-Khanoun, and I therefore came to warn her, merely from a feeling of gratitude toward Hadji-Ghafour.

SEKINÉ-KHANOUN. I am delighted to find, Aga-Kerim, that you have not forgotten the claims of friendship, and that in the present emergency you have remembered the sister of an old friend.

AGA-KERIM. Ah yes, madame, friendship is a valuable thing in these days. I have seen how things stood, for this Aga-Merdan is a rogue and a scheming rascal whose equal is to be found neither in earth nor in heaven. I therefore decided to come, and in a friendly spirit to warn you beforehand of their intrigues, for if they are permitted to carry them out, there will be no cure for the consequences.

SEKINÉ-KHANOUN. But, Aga-Kerim, what can Aga-Merdan do against me?

AGA-KERIM. What can he do? I am told that he is the advocate of your sister-in-law, and intends to sue you at law in her name. He is very clever and resourceful in affairs of this sort; you would be no match for him. It is very difficult to get ahead of him.

SEKINÉ-KHANOUN. What can he do in this lawsuit? My brother has no child to inherit his fortune. On the other hand, a woman who has been no more than temporary wife can make no claim to the heritage. However clever Aga-Merdan, or anyone else, may be, what injury can they do me in a case which is so clear?

AGA-KERIM. You have had very little experience in affairs of this sort. Aga-Merdan will find means to accomplish his ends. You must not let him take you at a disadvantage in the struggle.

SEKINÉ-KHANOUN. But how can we help being taken at a disadvantage?

AGA-KERIM. Well, tell me in the first place who your advocate is, so that I may see him, and make him acquainted with some of the tricks of Aga-Merdan. If he is intelligent he won’t let himself be caught napping.

SEKINÉ-KHANOUN. We do not know whom to take for our advocate.

AGA-KERIM. How is that? You don’t know whom to take, and have not appointed anyone to defend you in this case?

SEKINÉ-KHANOUN. No, we do not know whom to choose; we are just on the point of considering the question.

AZIZ-BEY. Could not you, Aga-Kerim, name someone to whom we could intrust our case?

AGA-KERIM. No, I know no one who would be able to hold his own against Aga-Merdan. I thought you had your advocate already on hand.

AZIZ-BEY. No, we have not appointed anyone. We were merely on the lookout for a man of great ability whom we could intrust with the defence of our interests. But think again; cudgel your brains. Have you no idea of anyone?

AGA-KERIM. No, I can think of no man who is of great ability. There are plenty of advocates, but there is none of them who could cope with Aga-Merdan. But stay; there is someone, if he would consent to be your advocate, for he has retired for some time from business of the kind. He alone would be able to hold his own with Aga-Merdan.

SEKINÉ-KHANOUN. Who is he?

AGA-KERIM. He is Aga-Selman, the son of the sieve-maker. Intrust your case with him if he will undertake it.

SEKINÉ-KHANOUN. Who would be able to see him and speak to him about it?

AGA-KERIM. It is not necessary to delegate anyone to see him. Send for him, and speak to him yourself here. Perhaps your arguments may persuade him to accept the case; the discourse of a woman has so much influence.

SEKINÉ-KHANOUN. Aga-Kerim, could you not see him yourself, and send him to us?

AGA-KERIM. No, madame. I have fallen out with him about a trifling matter. Send somebody else to fetch him.

SEKINÉ-KHANOUN. But how can you in this case give him certain information which you wish him to have?

AGA-KERIM. If you had another advocate, I should deem it necessary to instruct him in these matters; but in the case of Aga-Selman it is superfluous. He is clever enough to make slippers for the devil himself. Although I have quarrelled with him, I cannot deny his merit. God grant that your lawsuit may succeed.

AZIZ-BEY. I shall go and fetch him myself. [_Aziz-Bey and Aga-Kerim rise from their seats and prepare to go out._]

AGA-KERIM. God preserve you, madame.

SEKINÉ-KHANOUN. Thanks for your kind visit.

AGA-KERIM. I shall never forget your goodness. [_Aga-Kerim goes out with Aziz-Bey._]

=Scene XIV=

SEKINÉ-KHANOUN. Goul-Sebah! bring in a lounge, and lay a cushion on it. [_Scarcely has Goul-Sebah brought in the lounge and placed a cushion on it, when a sound of footsteps is heard in the vestibule. Aziz-Bey enters the room with Aga-Selman. Sekiné-Khanoun takes a seat at the back of the stage; Goul-Sebah stands by her side._]

=Scene XV=

AGA-SELMAN. Good-day, madame!

SEKINÉ-KHANOUN. Good-day, sir. You are welcome, Aga-Selman, and your visit gratifies me exceedingly. Have the goodness to take a seat. [_She points with her finger to the lounge. Aga-Selman seats himself at the foot of the lounge and Aziz-Bey takes a place by his side._]

SEKINÉ-KHANOUN [_in a melancholy voice_]. Aga-Selman, I am the sister of Hadji-Ghafour. I hope that you will treat me as your daughter, and will not refuse me your support in this day of misfortune.

AGA-SELMAN. Speak, madame, tell me what is your desire?

SEKINÉ-KHANOUN. You know, Aga-Selman, that seven or eight months ago everyone forsook the city and fled in every direction because of the cholera. Hadji-Ghafour was a man full of confidence in God; he declared he would not leave, but as a precaution he took to the President of the Tribunal and placed on deposit with him, in exchange for vouchers, and in the presence of witnesses, a sum of 60,000 tomans, laid up in strong-boxes. “If I should happen to die,” he said, “you must give this money to my legal heir.” The President of the Tribunal took charge of the money, and then, like everybody else, he quitted the city. All our neighbors also left. No one was at home but my brother and I, with a woman whom he had espoused in temporary marriage. It happened that my brother fell sick. No one was left in the town but some soldiers whom the government had left to guard the houses of the inhabitants, and to carry the dead to the cemetery. On that day four soldiers came to our house, and my brother said to them: “I am dying, and I have no other heir in the world but my sister here. After my death take me away to the cemetery.” Then my brother departed to the other world. Meanwhile my sister-in-law, who is no more than a mistress to whom no legacy can fall, pretends to be the heiress of my brother, and institutes a suit against me. Her advocate is Aga-Merdan, the son of the confectioner, and I hope that you will be willing to undertake the task of defending me.

AGA-SELMAN. Madame, I have retired from practice, and do not intend henceforth to be anyone’s advocate.

SEKINÉ-KHANOUN. This business will not take long, Aga-Selman; it will soon be finished; it is matter for a single session. If witnesses are required to testify to the words of my brother, there are the soldiers--you can summon them as witnesses. I hope that you will undertake my case out of mere good-will toward me.

AGA-SELMAN. Do you know the names and addresses of these soldiers?

SEKINÉ-KHANOUN. Yes. Aziz-Bey will write the information on a sheet of paper and will hand it to you.

AGA-SELMAN. Since you depend upon me, I accept the case; but on condition that it is not to turn out a long one, for if it is likely to last for any period, it will not be possible for me to devote myself to it.

SEKINÉ-KHANOUN. It is matter for a single day, and in recompense for your trouble I will give you a fee of 500 tomans.

AGA-SELMAN. That is scarcely necessary, madame. I engage in this business purely out of regard for you, and without motives of self-interest.

SEKINÉ-KHANOUN. I know it, Aga-Selman, but I offer you this sum as pocket-money for your children.

AGA-SELMAN. Allow me now to retire, madame; I must go and find the soldiers and ask them to come and testify at the trial. As for you, make out a brief and send it to me.

SEKINÉ-KHANOUN. Very good, I will prepare and send it to you. But I would remind you, Aga-Selman, that Aga-Merdan is said to be very crafty; leave nothing undone to defeat his tricks.

AGA-SELMAN. Keep your mind easy, madame, his tricks will avail nothing against me. Aziz-Bey, make a note of the names and addresses of these soldiers and send the particulars to me.

AZIZ-BEY. Yes, yes; they will be at your house in less than an hour. [_Aga-Selman rises and goes out. Aziz-Bey and Sekiné-Khanoun remain alone._]

=Scene XVI=

AZIZ-BEY. As for me, I am going to tell the whole story to the Prince Royal.

SEKINÉ-KHANOUN. Sit down. First of all write the names and addresses of the soldiers, and send them to Aga-Selman; then you can leave me. [_Aziz-Bey sits down to write._]

ACT SECOND

=Scene I=

_The action passes in the house of Aga-Merdan, son of the confectioner._

AGA-MERDAN [_discovered seated alone_]. I do not know what can have happened that Aga-Kerim is so late in coming. He must have been planning that Aga-Selman may be Sekiné-Khanoun’s advocate, and this is probably what has detained him. If this affair succeeds, as I predict, beside the fact that I shall gain no small sum of money, my reputation will be spread through the whole city and will rise sky high. That is to say, that this lawsuit is an inexhaustible mine of wealth to the man who can direct it and make it turn out aright. Thank God, I am not troubled about that. [_While he speaks the door opens, and Aga-Kerim enters the room._]

=Scene II=

AGA-KERIM [_gayly._] Good-day. Congratulate me; I have arranged everything.

AGA-MERDAN [_with a smile_]. Really? Is it credible?

AGA-KERIM. Yes, on your soul it is. I have praised you so highly to the widow of Hadji-Ghafour that if you had been there you would not have believed your ears. “To-day,” I said to her, “there is no one of more consideration with the President of the Tribunal than Aga-Merdan. He is never deceived, and all he says comes to pass. At the palace among the advocates he is the only one recognized. This is so true of his reputation that on certain occasions he has public and private audiences with the Prince Royal. For knowledge of affairs he is the Plato of the century. Follow his advice implicitly, and do not be anxious about anything. It is only under his direction that you will be able to enter into possession of Hadji-Ghafour’s fortune; for, excepting through him, you have no right to the legacy!” The woman was well satisfied, even delighted, as was her brother, Aga-Abbas. Meanwhile they are coming to see you, in order that you may dictate to them the line they are to take.

AGA-MERDAN. Very good, very good. But, tell me, have you been equally successful in securing for Aga-Selman the defence of the other party?

AGA-KERIM. Yes. Aga-Selman is at this very moment with Sekiné-Khanoun, and as soon as he is at liberty he will come here.

AGA-MERDAN. It is wonderful, Aga-Kerim. By God, you work miracles with your tongue. But, tell me, is the widow of Hadji-Ghafour pretty?

AGA-KERIM. Why do you ask?

AGA-MERDAN. Why, because I want her to fall in love with me, and marry me. Why should she not be my wife?

AGA-KERIM. How can I tell you whether she will love you or not? Your age is a little advanced and the woman is young.

AGA-MERDAN. No, Aga-Kerim, as sure as death, I am not so advanced in age. I am exactly fifty-one.

AGA-KERIM. I shouldn’t have believed it; I thought you were seventy.

AGA-MERDAN. Seventy? Not on your life. You know I was born the year of the great earthquake at Tebriz.

AGA-KERIM. You are married already.

AGA-MERDAN. I do not wish to marry her because I am in want of a wife. But this is how I consider the matter: If we succeed in carrying off all this fortune from Hadji-Ghafour’s sister, and transferring it to this woman, why should it go to another husband? Let me marry the woman, and the fortune becomes mine at the same time. This is also in your interest; what advantage will you otherwise gain from it?

AGA-KERIM. Yes, but in that case what matters whether she be pretty or plain? It would be much better that she should be a monster, if in that way she would become enamored of you, and consent to marry you. But she is not plain, and I do not believe she would find you to her taste.

AGA-MERDAN. Do you mean that I am not likely to please her, and to be accepted by her?

AGA-KERIM. Come now, do not you know this yourself? Your face is certainly not particularly captivating.

AGA-MERDAN. Of course I cannot truly say what effect I produce on you. Let me look at myself a little in the glass. [_He looks at himself in a wardrobe mirror._] By God, Aga-Kerim, what do you find to criticise in my appearance? Do you mean that my teeth are gone? They fell out through an inflammation, and not from old age. It is true that my jaws are slightly wrinkled, but this is not seen, the beard hides it.

AGA-KERIM. Good for you. That is sufficient. Now sit down; she will soon be here.

AGA-MERDAN. Wait a while; let me put on my cashmere robe, button my surtout, and comb my beard. Then I will come and sit down. [_He begins to dress himself._]

AGA-KERIM. Is all this necessary? Do sit down.

AGA-MERDAN. Certainly it is necessary. Our women always veil themselves from the eyes of men, but they are extremely fond of gazing at us. If the widow of Hadji-Ghafour sees me in full dress she will have more consideration for me, and my words will have more influence on her mind. It is even possible that I may prove captivating to her. [_He dresses, combs his beard, and seats himself. At this moment the door opens, and the widow of Hadji-Ghafour enters with her brother, Aga-Abbas._]

=Scene III=

AGA-ABBAS. Good-day, gentlemen.

AGA-MERDAN. Good-day to you both. You are very welcome, and your visit gives me great pleasure. Be good enough to sit down. [_The widow of Hadji-Ghafour, wearing a veil, sits down, and so does her brother._] I am going to address my remarks to you, Aga-Abbas; Madame Zeineb will hear, and will answer when necessary. Six months ago Hadji-Ghafour died. It is necessary that the root of the matter be made clear, and without mystery. Everyone knows that Zeineb-Khanoun was not the legal wife of Hadji-Ghafour; she cannot, therefore, pretend to receive whatever of fortune there is by right of inheritance. But having learned this circumstance, I sent Aga-Kerim to you to inform you that if you wish to take my advice, and govern yourselves according to the measures I shall take, I can find a way to bring all this fortune into the hands of Zeineb-Khanoun. As you know, the sister of Hadji-Ghafour is an orphan, she has neither relatives nor family to abet her. The young lady has indeed a lover, but this young man is no match for me. You have accepted my proposals, and have forbidden the President of the Tribunal to deliver to the sister of Hadji-Ghafour the sum which the latter had deposited into the judge’s hands until you have shown cause why. The President of the Tribunal has held the money, and has next notified you and the sister of Hadji-Ghafour to employ counsel, and to bring your case before the Tribunal, in order to state the object of your petition. I am the man whom you have empowered to act for you. But it is necessary that madame should listen attentively to all that I am going to say, and that she comport herself in accordance with my advice; if she wishes the affair to turn out in accordance with our desires.

AGA-ABBAS. Certainly. Nothing can be done without this. Come, then, detail to us the conditions which you would impose upon Zeineb.

AGA-MERDAN. First of all, Zeineb-Khanoun must deposit with me a fund of 500 tomans to meet certain unavoidable expenses; the remainder of the dues will be paid afterward. Zeineb-Khanoun has herself declared to Aga-Kerim that at the death of Hadji-Ghafour there were a thousand tomans left in the strong-box, and that she carried them off, without the knowledge of the dead man’s sister.

ZEINEB-KHANOUN. I make no objection to your demands on this point; tell me your other condition.

AGA-MERDAN. It will be also necessary, madame, that you be satisfied with one-half of the legacy; that is to say, that of the 60,000 tomans half goes to you and the other half, some 30,000 tomans, is to be divided between Aga-Kerim and me, as comrades, friends, and associates.

ZEINEB-KHANOUN. Good gracious, Aga-Merdan, but this is exorbitant!

AGA-MERDAN. It is by no means excessive, Madame. You have no right to this inheritance; the 30,000 tomans are therefore my free gift to you.

ZEINEB-KHANOUN. What do you mean? I have no rights? For years I have trudged up and down the house of Hadji-Ghafour; all the closet keys were in my hands; I had all I desired, and it was I who controlled the expenses. So long as Hadji-Ghafour lived his sister could not dispose of a single franc of his. What has happened that I am to be thrust on one side, and that this adventuress is to come and carry off all the money; that she is to drink it up, and spend it in order to have a wedding with a young scamp?

AGA-MERDAN. Such reasons as these are not listened to by the Tribunal.

ZEINEB-KHANOUN. What! not listened to? Ought not justice to be considered in a lawsuit? For ten years and more this fortune remained in my hands, and now I am to be stripped of it!

AGA-MERDAN. Yes, indeed, and you ought to be stripped of it. Listen to me. Surrender one-half of this inheritance, for in reality you have no right to a single penny of it. Aga-Abbas is well acquainted with the matter, and he knows what I say is true.

AGA-ABBAS. Yes, we accept the condition. What conditions beside these do you impose?

AGA-MERDAN. My third condition is that Zeineb-Khanoun shall declare in presence of the President of the Tribunal that she has by Hadji-Ghafour a child now seven months old, and still at the breast; this child she shall present before the Tribunal.

ZEINEB-KHANOUN. Oh, oh, Aga-Merdan, this is very, very hard. How can I dare to tell such a lie? That I have a child seven months old!

AGA-MERDAN. It is not hard at all. While Hadji-Ghafour was living you were _enceinte_. A month before his death you brought into the world a little boy--now seven months old. Is there any difficulty in stating that?

ZEINEB-KHANOUN. I look upon you as my father, Aga-Merdan, and I will never contravene your counsels; but this condition is too hard. Will not people say to me, knowing I have never had a child, “Where is your child? Where is your child?”

AGA-MERDAN. Don’t distress yourself on that score. The child is all ready. You have brought him into the world. The babe has been in your arms, and in the arms of Hadji-Ghafour. There are even people that will testify to that effect. Don’t distress yourself about these matters; simply make your statement, and others will confirm it.

ZEINEB-KHANOUN. In the name of God, Aga-Merdan, impose upon me some condition that I can fulfil; this is really too trying. How can I perpetrate such a falsehood? I’d never dare to talk in that way.

AGA-MERDAN. You are talking nonsense, Zeineb-Khanoun! I know what you mean by all this. Why would you not dare to say it? Why are you ashamed to do so? Everybody knows that it is the business of women to produce children. What shame is there in it? You have perhaps never been _enceinte_, and you have never borne a child. Let it be so; but he who wants to catch a fish must put his hand into cold water. It is quite necessary that you make this declaration. There is no other way of succeeding.

ZEINEB-KHANOUN. What end do you wish to gain by this, Aga-Merdan?