It was about the first hour after noon that the beautiful Babe-bi-bobu, suddenly rising from her recumbent attitude, clapped her pretty little hands, the fingers of which were beautifully tipped with henna, and beckoning to her attendants, retired gracefully from the hall of audience. The surprise and commotion was great, and what made her conduct more particular was, that the only son of the chief brahmin who had first raised the question, and headed the Anti-molist party, was at the moment of the princess’s departure, prostrate before the throne, with his forehead, indeed, to the ground, but his bosom swelling high with hope and ambition. Within a bower of orange trees, in the deep recesses of the royal gardens, to which she had hastened, sat the panting princess. She selected some flowers from those which were scattered round her, and despatched them to her favourite musician and attendant, Acota. Who was there in the whole kingdom of Souffra who could so sweetly touch the mandolin as Acota? Yet, who was there, not only in Souffra, but in all the adjacent countries, who struck such occasional discordant notes as Acota, and that in the ear of the beautiful princess Babe-bi-bobu, who, far from being displeased, appeared to approve of his occasional violence, which not only threatened to crack the strings of the instrument, but the tympanums of those who were near, who longed to escape, and leave the princess to enjoy the dissonance alone, little thinking that the discord was raised that their souls’ harmony might be undisturbed by the presence of others, and that the jarring of the strings was more than repaid to the princess, by the subsequent music of Acota’s voice.
Acota seated himself, at a signal from the princess, and commenced his playing, if such it could be called, thrumming violently, and jarring every chord of his instrument to a tone of such dissonance, that the attendant girls put their fingers into their ears, and pitied the beautiful Babe-bi-bobu’s bad taste in music.
“Ah! Acota,” said the princess, opening upon him all the tenderness of her large and beaming eyes, “how weary am I of sitting on my cushion, and seeing fop after fop, fool after fool, dawdle down upon their faces before me; and, moreover, I am suffocated with perfumes. Strike your mandolin again louder, beloved of my soul—still louder, that I may be further relieved of this unwished-for crowd.”
Thereupon, Acota seized his mandolin, and made such an unaccountable confusion of false notes, such a horrid jarring, that all the birds within one hundred yards shrieked as they fled, and the watchful old chamberlain, who was always too near the princess, in her opinion, and never near enough, in his own, cried out, “Yah—yah—baba senna, curses on his mother, and his mandolin into the bargain!” as his teeth chattered; and he hastened away, as fast as his obesity would permit him. The faithful damsels who surrounded the princess could neither stand it nor sit it any longer—they were in agonies, all their teeth were set on edge; and at last, when Acota, with one dreadful crash, broke every string of his instrument, they broke loose from the reins of duty, and fled in every direction of the garden, leaving the princess and Acota alone.
“Beloved of my soul,” said the princess, “I have at last invented a plan by which our happiness will be secured!” and in a low tone of voice, but without looking at each other, that they might not attract the observation of the chamberlain, they sweetly communed. Acota listened a few minutes to the soft voice of the princess, and then took up his broken-stringed mandolin, and with a profound reverence for the benefit of the old chamberlain, he departed.
In the mean time, a rumour was spread abroad that at sunset a public examination of all the candidates was to take place on the bank of the rapid-flowing river, which ran through a spacious meadow near to the city, in order to reject those candidates who might prove, by any scar or blemish, not to come expressly within the meaning of the old king’s will. Twelve old fakirs, and twenty-four mollahs with spectacles, were appointed as examining officers. It was supposed, as this was a religious ceremony, that all the females of Souffra, who were remarkable for their piety, would not fail to attend—and all the world were eager for the commencement of the examination. O then it was pleasant to see the running, and mounting, and racing, among the young Souffrarian rayahs, who were expected to be examined; and a stranger would have thought that a sudden pestilence had entered the city, from the thousands upon thousands who poured out from it, hastening to the river side, to behold the ceremony. But to the astonishment of the people, almost all the rayahs, as soon as they were mounted, left the city in an opposite direction, some declaring, that they were most surely without scar or blemish, but still they could not consent to expose their persons to the gaze of so many thousands; others declared that they left on account of scars and honourable wounds received in battle; and until that afternoon, the Souffrarians were not aware of how much modesty and how much courage they had to boast in their favoured land; and many regretted, as they viewed the interminable line of gallant young men depart, that the will of the late king should have made scars received in battle to be a bar to advancement; but they were checked by the brahmins, who told them that there was a holy and hidden mystery contained in the injunction of the old king’s will.
“By the beard of the Prophet, it takes a long time to get a husband for this princess of yours, Menouni,” observed the pacha with a yawn.
“Your sublime highness will not be surprised at it, when you consider the conditions of the old king’s will.”