OF THREE CALENDERS, SONS OF KINGS, AND OF FIVE LADIES OF BAGDAD.
During the reign of the Caliph Haroun Alraschid there lived at Bagdad a porter, who, notwithstanding his low and laborious profession, was nevertheless a man of wit and humour. One morning, when he was standing with a large basket before him, in a place where he usually waited for employment, a young lady of a fine figure, covered with a large muslin veil, came up to him, and said with a pleasing air, “Porter, take up your basket and follow me.” The porter, delighted with these few words, pronounced in so agreeable a manner, put it on his head and went after the lady, saying, “Oh happy day! Oh happy meeting!”
The lady stopped at a closed door, and knocked. A venerable Christian, with a long white beard, opened it, and she put some money into his hands without saying a single word; but the Christian, who knew what she wanted, went in, and shortly after brought out a large jar of excellent wine. “Take this jar,” said the lady to the porter, “and put it in the basket.” This being done, she desired him to follow her, and walked on; the porter still exclaiming, “Oh day of happiness! Oh day of agreeable surprise and joy!”
The lady stopped at the shop of a seller of fruits and flowers, where she chose various sorts of apples, apricots, peaches, lemons, citrons, oranges, myrtles, sweet basil, lilies, jessamine, and some other sweet-scented flowers and plants. She told the porter to put all those things in his basket, and follow her. Passing by a butcher’s shop, she ordered five and twenty pounds of his finest meat to be weighed, which was also put into the porter’s basket.
At another shop she bought some capers, tarragon, small cucumbers, parsley, and other herbs, pickled in vinegar: at another, some pistachios, walnuts, hazel-nuts, almonds, kernels of the pine, and other similar fruits: at a third she purchased all sorts of almond patties. The porter, in putting all these things into his basket, which began to fill it, said; “My good lady, you should have told me, that you intended buying so many things, and I would have provided a horse, or rather a camel, to carry them. I shall have more than I can lift, if you add much to what is already here.” The lady laughed at this speech, and again desired him to follow her.
She then went into a druggist’s, where she furnished herself with all sorts of sweet-scented waters, with cloves, nutmeg, pepper, ginger, a large piece of ambergris, and several other Indian spices, which completely filled the porter’s basket, whom she still ordered to follow her. He did so, till they arrived at a magnificent house, the front of which was ornamented with handsome columns, and at the entrance was a door of ivory. Here they stopped, and the lady gave a gentle knock at the door. While they waited for it to be opened, the porter’s mind was filled with a thousand different thoughts. He was surprised that a lady dressed as this was, should perform the office of housekeeper, for he conceived it impossible for her to be a slave. Her air was so noble, that he supposed her free, if not a person of distinction. He was wishing to ask her some questions concerning her quality and situation, but just as he was preparing to speak, another female who opened the door, appeared to him so beautiful, that he was silent through astonishment, or rather he was so struck with the brilliancy of her charms, that he was very near letting his basket and all that was in it fall; so much did this object make him forget himself. He thought he had never seen any beauty in his whole life that equalled her who was before him. The lady who had brought the porter, observed the disturbed state of his mind, and well knew the cause of it. This discovery diverted her; and she took so much pleasure in examining the countenance of the porter, that she forgot the door was open. “Come in, sister,” said the beautiful portress, “what do you wait for? Don’t you see that this poor man is so heavily laden he can hardly bear it?”
As soon as she and the porter were come in, the lady who opened the door shut it; and all three, after passing through a handsome vestibule, crossed a very spacious court, surrounded by an open gallery, or corridor, which communicated with many magnificent apartments, all on the same floor. At the bottom of this court there was a sort of cabinet, richly furnished, with a throne of amber in the middle, supported by four ebony pillars, enriched with diamonds and pearls of an extraordinary size, and covered with red satin, relieved by a bordering of Indian gold, of admirable workmanship. In the middle of the court there was a large basin lined with white marble, and full of the finest transparent water, which rushed from the mouth of a lion of gilt bronze.
Although the porter was so laden it did not prevent him from admiring the magnificence of this house, and the neatness and regularity with which every thing was arranged; but what principally attracted his attention, was a third lady, who appeared still more beautiful than the second, and who was seated on the throne before mentioned. As soon as she perceived the other two females, she came down from the throne, and advanced towards them. The porter conjectured, from the looks and behaviour of the two first ladies, that this was the principal personage; and he was not mistaken. This lady was called Zobeidè; she who opened the door was called Safiè, and the name of the one who had been for the provisions, was Aminè.
“You do not, my dear sisters,” said Zobeidè, accosting the other two, “perceive that this man is almost fainting under his load? Why do you not discharge him?” Aminè and Safiè then took the basket, one before and the other behind; Zobeidè also assisted, and all three put it on the ground. They then began to empty it, and when they had done, the agreeable Aminè took out her purse, and rewarded the porter very liberally. He was well satisfied with what he received, and was taking up his basket to go, but could not muster sufficient resolution, so much was he delighted by the sight of three such rare beauties, who now appeared to him equally charming; for Aminè had also taken off her veil, and he found her quite as handsome as the others. The thing that puzzled him most, was not seeing any man in the house; and yet a great part of the provisions he brought, such as dried fruits, cakes, and sweetmeats, were most adapted to those who wish to drink much and feast.
Zobeidè at first thought the porter was waiting to get breath, but observing him remain a long time, she asked him what he waited for, and whether he was sufficiently paid. “Give him something more,” added she, speaking to Aminè, “and let him be satisfied.”—“Madam,” answered the porter, “it is not that which detains me; I am already almost too well paid for my trouble. I know very well that I am guilty of an incivility in staying where I ought not; but I hope you will have the goodness to pardon it, from the astonishment I experience in observing no man among three ladies of such uncommon beauty. A party of ladies without men is as melancholy and stupid as a party of men without ladies.” To this he added some pleasantries in proof of what he advanced. He did not forget to repeat what they say at Bagdad, that there was no comfort at table unless there were four; and he concluded by saying that as they were three, they had the greatest want of a fourth.
The ladies laughed heartily at the reasoning of the porter. Zobeidè, however, then addressed him in a serious manner. “You carry your fooleries, my friend, a little too far; but though you do not deserve that I should enter into any explanation with you, I will at once inform you, that we are three sisters, who arrange all our affairs so secretly, that no one knows any thing of them. We have too great reason to fear a discovery to permit us to impart our arrangements; and an established author whom we have read, says, Keep thy own secret, and tell it to no one; for he who reveals a secret is no longer master of it. If thy own breast cannot contain thy secret, how can the breast of him to whom you intrust it?”
“Ladies,” replied the porter, “from your appearance alone I thought you possessed a singular degree of merit; and I perceive that I am not mistaken. Although fortune has not been so propitious to me, as to bring me up to any profession, superior to the one I follow, yet I have cultivated my mind as much as I was able by reading books of science and history; and permit me, I entreat, to say, that I also have read in another a maxim which I have always happily practised; Conceal your secret, he says, only from such as are known to be indiscreet, and who will abuse your confidence; but make no difficulty in discovering it to prudent men, because they know how to keep it. The secret, then, with me is as safe as locked up in a cabinet, the key of which is lost, and the door sealed.”
Zobeidè saw that the porter was not deficient in cleverness, but thinking that he was desirous of being at the entertainment they were going to have, she good-humouredly replied, “You know that we are preparing to regale ourselves, and you must also know we cannot do this but at a considerable expense; and it would not be just that you should partake of the feast without bearing part of the costs.” The beautiful Safiè was of the same opinion as her sister. “My friend,” she said to the porter, “have you never heard the common saying, if you bring something you shall return with something; if you bring nothing, you shall carry nothing back?”
The porter would have been obliged to retire in confusion in spite of his rhetoric, had it not been for Aminè, who took his part very strongly: “My dear sisters,” she said to Zobeidè and Safiè, “I entreat you to permit him to remain with us. It is unnecessary to tell you he will divert us, for you must see he is capable of it. I assure you that had it not been for his readiness, quickness, and courage to follow me, I should not have executed so many commissions in so short a time. Besides, if I were to repeat to you all the amusing things he said to me on the way, you would not be much surprised that I am become his advocate.”
At this speech of Aminè’s, the porter in a transport of joy fell on his knees and kissed the ground at the feet of this charming female. “My dear lady,” said he, raising himself, “you have from this moment begun my happiness, and placed it almost at its summit by so generous an act, for which I can never sufficiently express my gratitude. In short, ladies,” added he, addressing the three sisters at once, “do not suppose, because you have done me so great an honor, that I will abuse it; and that I shall consider myself as a man who is worthy of it; on the contrary, I shall ever regard myself as the humblest of your slaves.” In saying this he wished to return the money he had received, but the grave Zobeidè ordered him to keep it. “What we have once given,” she said, “as a recompense to those who have rendered us any service, never returns. But in agreeing that you should remain with us, it is not only on condition that you keep the secret we are going to intrust you with, but we also require, that you shall strictly observe the rules of propriety and decorum.” While she was speaking, the beautiful Aminè took off her walking dress, and fastening her robe to her girdle, in order to be more at liberty to prepare the table, she placed on it various kinds of meat, and put some bottles of wine, and several golden cups upon a sideboard. This done, the ladies seated themselves round the table, and made the porter place himself by their side, who was delighted beyond measure, at seeing himself at table with three persons of such extraordinary beauty.
They had scarcely began to eat, when Aminè, who had placed herself near the buffet, or sideboard, took a bottle and goblet, and poured some for herself. Having drank the first glass, according to the Arabian custom, she then poured out one for each of her sisters, who drank it one after the other. Then filling the same goblet for the fourth time, she presented it to the porter, who in taking it, kissed her hand, and before he drank it he sung a song, the meaning of which was, that as the wind carried with it the odour of any perfumed spot over which it passed, so the wine, which he was about to drink, coming from her hand acquired a more exquisite flavour than it naturally possessed. This song pleased them very much, and they each sung in their turn. In short the whole company were in most excellent spirits during the repast, which lasted a long time, and was accompanied with every thing that could render it agreeable.
The day began to close, when Safiè, in the name of her sisters, said to the porter, “Arise, and go it; is time to retire.” To this the porter, not having resolution to quit them, answered, “Ah, ladies, where would you command me to go in the state I am in? I am almost beside myself from gazing on you, and the good cheer you have given me; and I shall never find the way to my own house. Allow me the night to recover myself in; I will pass it wherever you please, but less time will not restore me to the state I was in, when I came here; and even then I doubt I shall leave the better part of myself behind.”
Aminè again took the part of the porter: “He is right, my sister,” she exclaimed; “I am convinced of the propriety of his demand. He has sufficiently diverted us; and if you wish to believe me, or rather if you love me, I am sure you will suffer him to pass the evening with us.”—“We cannot refuse any request of yours, my sister,” replied Zobeidè. “Porter,” she added, addressing herself to him; “we wish to grant you even this favour, but we must premise a fresh condition: whatever we may do in your presence, with respect to yourself or any thing else, take great care that you do not ask the reason; for in questioning us about things that do not at all concern you, you may hear what will not please you. Take care, therefore, and be not too curious in attempting to discover the motives of our actions.”
“Madam,” replied the porter, “I promise to observe the conditions with so much exactitude, that you shall have no reason to reproach me with having infringed them, and even still less to punish my indiscretion. My tongue shall be motionless; and my eyes shall be like a mirror, that preserves no part of the objects it receives.”—“To let you see,” said Zobeidè, with a serious air, “that what we require of you is not newly established among us, observe what is written over the door, on the inside.” The porter went and read these words, which were written in large letters of gold, whoever talks about what DOES NOT CONCERN HIM, OFTEN HEARS WHAT DOES not please him! He came back directly, and said to the three sisters, “I swear to you, ladies, that you shall not hear me speak a word concerning any thing which does not regard me, and in which you have any interest.”
This being settled, Aminè brought supper; and when she had lighted up the hall with numerous candles prepared with aloes and ambergris, which scattered a very agreeable perfume, and cast a brilliant light, she seated herself at the table with her sisters and the porter. They began to eat, drink, sing, and recite verses. The females took pleasure in making the porter intoxicated, under the pretence of making him drink to their health. Wit and repartee were not wanting. They were at length all in the best humour, when they heard a knocking at the gate. They instantly got up, and all run to open it; but Safiè, to whom this office more particularly belonged, was the most active. The other two, seeing her before them, stopped, and waited till she came back to inform them who could have any business with them at so late an hour. Safiè soon returned. “A charming opportunity, my sisters, offers itself to spend great part of the night very pleasantly, and if you are of the same opinion as I am, we will not let it escape us. There are three calenders at the door; at least they appear so by their dress; but what will doubtless surprise you is, that they are all three blind of the right eye, and have their heads, beards, and eyebrows shaved. They say, they are only just arrived at Bagdad, where they have never been before, and as it is dark, and they knew not where to lodge, they knocked at our door by chance; and entreat us for the love of God, to have the charity to take them in. They care not where we put them, provided they are under cover; and will be satisfied even with a stable. They are young and well-made and appear to possess some spirit, but I cannot without laughing, think of their amusing and uniform figures. Safiè could not indeed refrain from laughing most heartily at this moment, nor could either her sisters or the porter do otherwise than join in it. “Shall we,” said she, “let them come in? It is impossible but that with such men as I have described, we shall finish the day still better than we begun it. They will divert us very much, and they will be no expense to us, since they only ask a lodging for one night, and it is their intention to leave us as soon as it is day.”
Zobeidè and Aminè made some difficulty in agreeing to the request of Safiè; and she herself well knew the reason of it: but expressed so great a desire to have her way, that they could not refuse her. “Go,” said Zobeidè to her, “and let them come in, but do not fail to caution them not to speak about what does not concern them, and make them read the inscription over the inside of the door. At these words, Safiè joyfully ran to open the door, and soon returned, accompanied by the three calenders.
On entering they made a low bow to the sisters, who had risen to receive them; and who obligingly told them they were welcome, and that they were happy in being able to oblige them, and contribute towards lessening the fatigue of their journey. They then invited their new guests to sit down with them. The magnificence of the place and the kindness of the ladies gave the calenders a very high idea of the beautiful hostess and her sisters; but before they took their places, having by chance cast their eyes towards the porter, and observing that he was dressed very like other calenders, from whom they differed in many points of discipline, and whose beard and eyebrows were not shaved, one of them said, “This man appears to be one of our Arabian brethren, who revolted.”
The porter, half asleep and heated with the wine he had drunk, was much disturbed at these words; and without getting up he said to the calenders, casting at the same time a fierce look at them, “Seat yourselves, and meddle not with what does not concern you. Have you not read the inscription over the door? Do not pretend then to make the world live after your fashion; but live according to ours.”—“My good friend,” replied the calender, who had before spoken, “do not be angry, for we should be very sorry to give you any cause; on the contrary, we are ready to receive your commands.” The dispute would not have ended here had not the ladies interfered, and pacified all parties.
When the calenders were seated, the sisters helped them, and the delighted Safiè in particular took care to supply them with wine. When they had both eaten and drunk as much as they wished, they intimated that they should be happy to give them some music, if they had any instruments, and would order them to be brought. They accepted the offer with pleasure; and the beautiful Safiè immediately got up to enquire after some, and returned the next moment and offered them a flute of that country, also another used in Persia, and a tambour de basque. Each calender received from her hand that instrument he liked best, and they all began to play a little air. The females were acquainted with the words, which were very lively, and accompanied the air with their voices: frequently interrupting each other with fits of laughter from the nature of the words.
In the midst of this entertainment, and when the party were highly delighted, they heard a knock at the door. Safiè immediately left off singing, and went to see who it was.
“But I must now inform you, Sire,” said Scheherazadè to the sultan, in this place, “that it is proper for your majesty to know how any one came to knock so late at the door of this house. The caliph Haroun Alraschid made it a practice to go very often, during the night, through the city in disguise, in order to discover whether every thing was quiet. On this evening, therefore, the caliph set out from his palace, at his accustomed hour, accompanied by Giafar, his grand vizier, and Mesrour, chief of the eunuchs, all three disguised as merchants. In passing through the street where these ladies lived, the prince heard the sound of the instruments, interrupted by laughter, and said to his vizier, “Go and knock at the door of that house, where I hear so much noise; I wish to gain admittance, and learn the cause of it.” The vizier endeavoured to persuade the caliph that they were only women, who were making merry that evening, and the wine seemed to have exhilirated their spirits; and that they ought not to expose themselves, where it was probable they might meet with some insult; besides, the time, he said, was improper, and it was useless to disturb their amusements. “Never mind,” said the caliph, “knock as I order you.”
It was, then, the grand vizier Giafar who had knocked at the door by order of the caliph, who wished not to be known. Safiè opened it, and the vizier observed, by the light of a candle she carried, that she was very beautiful. He played his part very well. He first made a most profound reverence, and then, with a respectful air, he said, “Madam, we are three merchants of Moussoul, and arrived here about ten days ago, with some very rich merchandise, which we have deposited in a khan; where we have taken up our lodging. We have been to spend the day with a merchant of this city, who had invited us to go to see him. He treated us with a fine collation; and as the wine we drunk put us into a very good humour, he sent for a company of dancers. The night was already far advanced, and while we were playing on our instruments, the others dancing, and the whole company making a great noise, the watch happened to pass by, and obliged us to open the door. Some of the company were arrested: we were however so fortunate as to escape, by getting over a wall. But,” added the vizier, “as we are strangers, and have taken perhaps rather more wine than we ought, we are afraid of meeting with a second party of the watch, or perhaps the same before we arrive at our khan, which is at a considerable distance from hence. And we should even then get there to no purpose, for the gate would be shut, and whoever may come there, they will not open it till morning. This is the reason, madam, that as we heard, in passing by, the sound of instruments and voices, we thought all those who belonged to the house were not yet retired, and we took the liberty to knock, to beg you to afford us a retreat till the morning. If we appear to you worthy of taking a part in your amusements, we will endeavour, as far as we are able, to contribute to it, in order to repair the interruption we have caused; if not, do us at least the favor to suffer us to pass the night under the cover of your vestibule.”
During this speech of Giafar, the beautiful Safiè had an opportunity of examining the vizier and the two persons whom he also called merchants, and judging from their countenances that they were not common men, she said that she was not mistress, but if they would give themselves a moment’s patience she would return and bring the answer. Safiè went and related all this to her sisters, who hesitated some time as to what they ought to do. But they were naturally kind, and as they had conferred the same favor on the three calenders, they resolved to permit these also to come in. The caliph, the grand vizier, and the chief of the eunuchs, being introduced by the beautiful Safiè, saluted the ladies and the calenders with great civility. They, supposing them merchants, returned it in the same manner; and Zobeidè, as the principal person, with that grave and serious air which so well suited her, said, “You are welcome, but in the first place do not take it ill if we ask of you one favor.”—“What favor,” cried the vizier, “can we refuse to such beautiful ladies!”—“It is,” replied Zobeidè, “to have only eyes and no speech; to forbear from asking questions about what you may see, in order to learn the cause; and not to speak about what does not concern you, for fear you should hear what will not be pleasant to you.”—“You shall be obeyed, madam,” replied the vizier; “for we are neither censurers nor curious imprudent persons. It is enough for us to attend to our own business without meddling with what does not regard us.” After this each seated himself, and the conversation became general; and they drank to the health of the new guests.
While the vizier Giafar entertained them, the caliph ceased not from admiring the extraordinary beauty, the great elegance, the lively disposition and spirit of the ladies; while the appearance of the three calenders, all blind of the right eye, surprised him very much. He anxiously wished to learn the cause of this singularity, but the conditions they had imposed upon him and his companions, prevented any inquiry. Besides all this, when he reflected upon the richness of the services and furniture; with the regularity and arrangement every where apparent, he could hardly persuade himself it was not the effect of enchantment.
The conversation having fallen upon the various sorts of amusement, and the different modes of enjoying life, the calenders got up and danced in their peculiar way, which much augmented the good opinion the ladies had already conceived of them; and attracted also the applause and esteem of the caliph and his company. As soon as the calenders had finished, Zobeidè got up, and taking Aminè by the hand, said to her, “Come, sister, the company shall not think that we will put them under any restraint; nor shall their presence prevent us from doing as we have always been accustomed.” Aminè, who perfectly understood what her sister meant, got up and took away the dishes, tables, bottles, glasses, and also the instruments on which the calenders had played. Nor did Safiè remain idle; she swept the hall, put every thing in its proper place, snuffed the candles, and added more aloe wood and ambergris. Having done this, she requested the three calenders to sit on a sofa on one side, and the caliph and his company on the other. “Get up,” said she then to the porter, looking at him, “and be ready to assist in whatever we want you; a man like you, as strong as the house, ought never to remain idle.” The porter had slept till he was rather more sober: he got up therefore very quickly, and after fastening his cloak to his girdle, “I am ready,” he cried, “to do any thing you please.”—“That is well,” answered Safiè, “and you shall not remain long with your arms crossed.” A little while after Aminè came in with a sort of seat, which she placed in the middle of the room. She then went to the door of a closet, and having opened it, she made a sign to the porter to approach. “Come and assist me,” she cried. He did so, and went in with her, and returned a moment after, followed by two black dogs, each of which had a collar with a chain fastened to it, by which he held them. He brought these dogs, which appeared to have been very ill used and beaten with a whip, into the middle of the room.
Zobeidè, who was sitting between the calenders and the caliph, then got up, and approaching to the porter in a very grave manner, “We must,” cried she, with a deep sigh, “do our duty.” She then turned up her sleeves, so as to uncover her arms up to the elbow, and after taking a whip which Safiè presented to her, “Porter,” she said, “take one of these dogs to my sister Aminè, and then come to me with the other.” The porter did as he was ordered; and as he approached Zobeidè, the dog, which he held, immediately began to howl, and turning towards her lifted up its head in a most supplicating manner. But she, without regarding the melancholy expressions of the dog, which must have excited pity, or its cries which filled the whole house, flogged it till she was out of breath, and when she had not strength left to beat it any more, she threw away the whip; then taking the chain from the porter, she took up the dog by the paws, and both looking at each other with a melancholy air, they mingled their tears together. Zobeidè after this took out her handkerchief, wiped the tears from its eyes and kissed it, then returning the chain to the porter, she desired him to lead that back from whence he had taken it, and bring her the other.
The porter carried the one that had been beaten back to the closet; and in returning took the other from the hands of Aminè, and presented it to Zobeidè, who was waiting for it. “Hold it as you did the first,” said she; then taking the whip, she served this in the same manner. She then wept with it, dried its tears, kissed it, and returned it to the porter, who was saved the trouble of carrying it back to the closet by the agreeable Aminè, who took it herself.
The three calenders, as well as the caliph and his party, were much astonished at this ceremony. They could not comprehend why Zobeidè, after having whipped, with so much violence, the two dogs, which, according to the tenets of the Mussulman religion, are impure animals, should afterwards weep with them, kiss them, and dry their tears. They conversed together about it, and the caliph in particular was very desirous of knowing the reason of an action which appeared to him so singular. He made signs to the vizier to inquire, but he turned his head another way, till at last, importuned by repeated signs, he answered in the same manner, that it was not yet time to satisfy his curiosity.
Zobeidè remained for some time in the middle of the room, as if to rest from her fatigue in beating the two dogs. “My dear sister,” said the beautiful Safiè, “will you not return to your place, that I also may perform my part?”—“Yes,” replied Zobeidè, and seated herself on the sofa with the caliph, Giafar, and Mesrour, on her right hand, and the three calenders and the porter on her left.
The company continued for some time silent: at length Safiè, who had placed herself on the seat in the middle of the room, said to Aminè, “Sister get up, you understand what I mean.” Aminè rose and went into a different closet from that whence the dogs were brought; she returned with a case covered with yellow satin, and richly ornamented with an embroidery of green and gold. She opened it, and took out a lute, which she presented to her sister. Safiè took it, and after having tuned it, began to accompany it with her voice: she sung an air on the torments of absence, in so agreeable a style, that the caliph and the rest of the company were enchanted. When she had finished, as she had sung with a great deal of action as well as passion, she offered the lute to Aminè, saying, “Sister, my voice fails me; do you take it, and oblige the company by playing and singing instead of me.”
Aminè having played a little prelude, to hear if the instrument was in tune, sung for some time on the same subject, but she became so affected by the words she uttered, that she had not power to finish the air. Zobeidè began to praise her sister: “You have done wonders,” said she, “it is easy to perceive that you feel the griefs you express.” Aminè had not time to reply to this speech; she felt herself so oppressed at that moment, that she could think of nothing but giving herself air, and opening her robe, she exposed a bosom, not white as the beautiful Aminè ought to have had, but so covered with scars, as to create a species of horror in the spectators. This, however, was of no service to her, and she fainted away.
Whilst Zobeidè and Safiè ran to assist their sister, one of the calenders exclaimed, “We had better have slept in the open air than come here to witness such a spectacle.”
The caliph, who heard him, drew near, and enquired what all this meant: “We know no more than you,” replied the calender. “What,” resumed the caliph, “do not you belong to the house? cannot you inform me about these two black dogs, and this lady, who appears to have been so ill treated?”—“Sir,” said the calender, “we never were in this house before now, and entered it only a few minutes sooner than you did.” This increased the astonishment of the caliph, “Perhaps,” said he, “the man who is with you can give us some information.” The calender made signs to the porter to draw near, and asked him if he knew why the black dogs had been beaten, and why the bosom of Aminè was so scarred. “Sir,” replied the porter, “I swear by the great living God, that if you know nothing of the matter, we are all equally ignorant. It is true that I live in the city, but before to-day I never entered this house; and if you are surprised to see me here, I am not less so at being in such company. What increases my surprise,” added he, “is not to see any man with these ladies.”
The caliph and his party, as well as the calenders, thought that the porter belonged to the family, and that he would have been able to have informed them of what they wished so much to know. The caliph, whatever might be the consequence, resolved to satisfy his curiosity. “Attend to me,” he said to the rest, “we are seven men and there are only three women, let us then compel them to give us the information we request; and if they refuse to comply with a good grace, we can force them to it. The grand vizier, Giafar, opposed this plan; and explained the consequences of it to the caliph, without discovering to the calenders who he was, as he always addressed him like a merchant. “Consider, sir, I beg,” said he, “that we have our reputation to preserve. You know on what condition these ladies suffered us to become their guests; and we accepted the terms. What will they say to us if we infringe the compact? And we should be still more to blame if any misfortune should happen to us in consequence of it. It is not to be supposed that they would require such a promise from us unless they should be able to make us repent if we broke it.”
The vizier now drew the caliph a little aside, and spoke to him in a low voice. “The night, my lord, will not last long, if your majesty will have but a little patience, I will then come and bring these women before you when on your throne, and you may learn from them whatever you wish.” Although this advice was very judicious, the caliph rejected it, and desired the vizier to be silent, and said he would not wait so long, but would that instant have the information he wished. The next question was, who should first make the enquiry. The caliph endeavoured to persuade the calenders to speak first, but they excused themselves. At last they all agreed, that it should be the porter. He was preparing to utter the fatal question, when Zobeidè, after having assisted Aminè, who had recovered from her fainting, approached them. As she had heard them speak in rather a loud and warm manner, she said to them, “What are you talking of? what is your contest about?”
The porter then addressed her as follows: “These gentlemen, madam, entreat you to have the goodness to explain to them why you wept with those dogs after having treated them so ill; and how it has happened that the lady who fainted has her bosom covered with scars. This, madam, is what I have been required by them to ask of you.”
At these words Zobeidè, in the most haughty and fierce manner, turned to the caliph and the calenders. “Is it true, gentlemen,” she asked, “that you have commissioned this man to require this information of me?” They all answered it was, except the vizier Giafar, who did not open his lips. Upon this she replied to them, in a tone which showed how much she was offended; “Because we granted you the favour you requested of us, and in order to prevent any cause of discontent or dissatisfaction on your parts as we were alone, we made our acquiescence subject to one positive condition, that you should not speak about what did not concern you, lest you should hear what would not please you. After having both received and entertained you as well as we possibly could, you do not scruple to break your word. This probably arises from the facility with which we agreed to receive you; but that surely is no excuse; and your conduct, therefore, cannot be considered as honourable.” Having concluded her speech, she struck the floor with her foot, and clapped her hand three times, and called out, “Enter quickly!” A door immediately opened, and seven strong powerful black slaves rushed in, with scimitars in their hands, and each seized one of the company. They threw them to the ground, drew them into the middle of the hall, and were preparing to take off their heads.
We may easily conceive what was the alarm of the caliph. He repented, but too late, at not having followed the advice of his vizier. In the mean time this unfortunate prince, Giafar, Mesrour, the porter, and the three calenders, were about to pay with their lives for their indiscreet curiosity; but before they received the fatal stroke, one of the slaves said to Zobeidè and her sisters, “High, powerful, and respectable mistresses, do you command us to cut their throats?”—“Stop,” answered Zobeidè, “it is necessary first to interrogate them.”—“Madam,” cried the affrighted porter, “in the name of God do not make me die for the crime of another. I am innocent, and they only are guilty. Alas!” he continued, weeping, “we were passing the time so agreeably. These one-eyed calenders are the cause of this misfortune; there is not even a city that would not be ruined by men of such ill-favoured countenances. I entreat you, madam, not to confound the first with the last; and remember, it is much more commendable to pardon a miserable wretch like me, deprived of all assistance, than to overwhelm him with your power, and sacrifice him to your resentment.”
Zobeidè, in spite of her anger, could not help laughing inwardly at the lamentations of the porter. But without paying any attention to him, she addressed herself again to the others. “Answer me,” said she, “and tell me who you are, if not, you have only an instant to live. I cannot believe that you are honourable men, or persons of authority or distinction in whatever country you call your own. If that had been the case, you would have paid more attention and more respect to us.”
The caliph, being naturally impatient, suffered infinitely more than the rest at finding his life depended upon the commands of an offended and justly irritated woman; but he began to conceive there were some hopes when he found, that she wished to know who they all were; as he imagined she would by no means take away his life, when she should be informed of his rank. It was for this reason that he whispered to his vizier, who was near him, instantly to declare who he was. But this wise and prudent minister, wishing to preserve the honour of his master, and being unwilling to make public the great affront he had brought upon himself, answered, “We suffer only what we deserve.” When, however, in obedience to the caliph, he wished to speak, Zobeidè would not give them time. She immediately addressed herself to the three calenders, and observing that they were all three blind with one eye, she asked if they were brothers. “No, madam,” answered one of them for the rest, “we are not brothers by blood, but only in consequence of being calenders; that is, in pursuing and observing the same kind of life.”—“Have you,” said she, “speaking to one of them in particular, “lost the sight of one eye from your birth?”—“No, indeed, madam,” he answered, “I became so through a most surprising adventure, by the recital or perusal of which, were it written, every one must derive advantage. After this misfortune, I shaved my beard and eyebrows, and in taking up the habit I wear, became a calender.”
Zobeidè put the same question to the others, who returned her the same answer as the first. But the last who spoke, added, “To inform you, madam, that we are not common persons, and in order that you should have some pity for us, we must tell you, that we are all the sons of kings. Although we have never seen each other before this evening, we have had sufficient time to become acquainted with this circumstance; and I can assure you, that the kings who have given us birth have made some noise in the world!”
During this speech Zobeidè became less angry, and told the slaves to set them at liberty, but at the same time to remain where they were. “They,” said she, “who shall recount their history to me, and explain the motives which brought them to this house, shall suffer no harm, but shall have permission to go where they please; but such as shall refuse to give us that satisfaction, shall not be spared.” The three calenders, the caliph, the grand vizier Giafar, the eunuch Mesrour, and the porter, were all on the carpet in the middle of the hall before the three ladies, who sat on a sofa, with the slaves behind them, ready to execute any orders they might receive.
The porter, understanding that he had only to relate his history in order to be delivered from so great a danger, spoke first. “You are already acquainted, madam,” he said, “with my history and what brought me to your house. What I have to relate, therefore, will soon be finished. Your sister engaged me this morning at the place where I take my stand in quality of a porter, by which I endeavour to gain a living. I followed her to a wine-merchant’s, to an herbseller’s, to an orange-merchant’s, and to those who sell almonds, nuts, and other dried fruits. We then went to a confectioner’s, and to a druggist’s, from thence with my basket on my head as full as it well could be, I came here, where you had the goodness to suffer me to remain till now, a favor I shall never forget. This is the whole of my history.”
When the porter had concluded, Zobeidè, very well satisfied with him, said, “Save thyself and begone, nor ever let us see thee again.”—“I beg of you, madam,” replied he, “to let me remain a little longer. It would be unfair that I should not hear their histories after they have had the pleasure of hearing mine.” In saying this, he took his place at the end of the sofa, truly delighted at finding himself free from the danger which so much alarmed him. One of the calenders next spoke, and addressing himself to Zobeidè, as the principal person who had commanded them to give an account of themselves, began his history as follows.