Kluma reached her home at night, where she was told that her parents had given their commands that she should remain constantly in her room, and never expose herself to the risk of being seen by the Prince, who was as yet ignorant of her assistance. This was sad news to poor Kluma, and she began to despair of ever seeing the Prince again, as now matters were in progress for the marriage, which was soon to be celebrated between her sister and the prince, and they would probably depart ere she would be released. But she made no resistance, only followed the attendant who was instructed to lead her to imprisonment. As she passed through the hall, the servants were struck with wonder at the amazing change which had taken place in Kluma, and that she had become the most beautiful of the princesses. Day by day, as they attended her, they became accustomed to the change, and spoke of her among themselves, as if she had always been, as now, pre-eminent.
All this long time, for a month at least, Kluma had not seen her parents and sister (who only wished her to keep out of sight, and beyond this, cared very little what became of her), nor even had she caught a passing glimpse of the Prince, from whom they concealed all knowledge of her existence. The pains they took to accomplish their wishes, in this respect, was the very cause of bringing Kluma to his notice. One of the servants, in waiting on him, who, like all the rest, was attached to Kluma, and indignant at her being deprived of her liberty, let fall some hints one day that awakened the curiosity of the Prince, about the beautiful daughter of the King, who was confined in the palace, and, being urged, told the whole story of her wrongs, that it was Kluma and not Cerulia who had saved his life, and whose voice he so loved to hear. The Prince, enraged at the deceit that had been practised upon him, immediately sent for the King and Queen, and demanded that they should produce their other daughter, who was a prisoner in the palace, or he would leave their kingdom at once, and return home alone. They were very much alarmed, and tried to appease his wrath, by making a confession of the fraud that they had practised on him, but represented that it was on account of the perfect hideousness of Kluma, and that she was not even fit to be presented to him; but, as they had already deceived him, and the servant had expatiated largely on her great attractions, he persisted in his desire to see her. The Princess Cerulia, in a rage at the implied slight to herself, and thinking to mortify the Prince and Kluma at the same time, proposed that she should be sent for, and the King, thinking it the best mode of ending this importunity of the Prince, and of convincing him of the truth, consented to its being done. She was accordingly conducted, trembling and agitated, into their presence. The Princess Cerulia haughtily and triumphantly turned her eyes, first upon the Prince, then upon Kluma, when lo! she stood glowing before them, in unsurpassed loveliness. The King and Queen were no less amazed, not knowing how this wonderful change had been wrought. As for the Prince, he needed no second look to know that to this Princess his heart should be given. He thanked her for his life, which she had saved to him, and when she answered he knew the voice he had so longed to hear again. The King, seeing that there was still a hope of his claiming the Prince for his son-in-law, came forward, and tendered the hand of Kluma, which the Prince graciously accepted, as by this time he was completely captivated.
Words cannot describe the rage of the Princess Cerulia when she saw Kluma thus openly preferred to herself, and her mortification knew no bounds, when, after an imposing pageant, and bridal ceremony (at which she was forced to appear as chief bridesmaid), she saw Kluma depart, as the bride of the Prince Talyon, to the kingdom of his father, to which he was heir, and where they lived in happiness many long years; and Kluma still grew more lovely in the eyes of her husband, for the mist was never dissipated as long as she lived, by the rude breath of anger or malice.
V.
THE RICH PERSIAN AND THE STATUE.
THERE was once a rich Persian, named Bolamah, whose father had left him in possession of such vast amounts of treasure that he exceeded even the greatest Princes of the country in wealth. Bolamah had a splendid palace, full of all that could delight the senses, and furnish food for the mind; such statuary and rich paintings was never before seen; such magnificent gardens, grottoes and fountains; beside this, he was exceedingly handsome in person and accomplished in mind and manners. Of course, he was surrounded by flatterers, who paid court to him, because, in return, he heaped benefits upon them, and, so accustomed was he to praise, that insensibly it became necessary to his happiness, and those who were most fulsome in their adulation were the surest of gaining his favor.
He had, however, one true friend, who esteemed Bolamah next to himself; and if any make profession of greater friendship than that, we ought to suspect their sincerity. This friend, called Cobez, was poor but honest, and much attached to Bolamah, who was fond of him also. For a long time after his father’s death, Bolamah found plenty of employment in perfecting and adorning his palace, and Cobez was always appointed to oversee the execution of the plans that the fine taste of his patron suggested. By their joint efforts the palace of Bolamah was so noted for its elegance that many came from afar to see it, and were enchanted, and did homage to the fortunate owner, who was the proudest of men. When he reached his thirtieth year he felt that his happiness would be more complete if he had a wife, to be with him constantly, and to share the grandeur and luxury that surrounded him. He opened, as usual, his mind to Cobez, and promised to bestow on him a magnificent reward, if he would procure him a suitable companion. Cobez readily enough accepted the commission, first revolving in his mind what sort of woman would be most likely to please Bolamah. In regard to her beauty, that matter was settled at once—it was indispensable; and in Persia, where the women have a world-wide reputation for personal attractions, it was no hard matter to find plenty which would charm the eye. “But,” thought he, “Bolamah, who is so learned and accomplished himself, will require that his wife also, in the same manner, excel all others; and to find beauty and talent combined would be a difficult task.” Nevertheless, he determined to undertake it, and gain the reward if he was able, for Cobez was in love, and would have asked no one to choose a wife for him while pretty little black-eyed Manilla lived with her old father, by the side of the same river that passed through the splendid grounds of Bolamah, yet did not disdain to make its gladdest music in rushing by their little cot, that stood in the humblest vale.
Cobez knew if he could gain the reward that Bolamah offered it would make him rich as he desired for the rest of his life; he could then marry his little Manilla, and make sure that she was his own; and he felt that he could never rest easy till this was done, for she was beset by all the neighboring swains; and, though she had given him her troth, he could not help feeling anxious and uneasy when others, richer than himself, were pressing their suits with such ardor. Cobez, therefore, sought earnestly to find out some woman to present to Bolamah, and one fine morning, setting out on a journey, he resolved not to come back till he had accomplished his object. After having been gone for a long time, and hearing of many whom he thought would be likely to please, but, on searching them out, finding himself always disappointed, he one day heard of a very beautiful woman, of whose voice such wonders were told that he determined to hear her for himself; accordingly he travelled to the place where this singing bird (whose name was Natinga), resided. He found her with a crowd about her, who were listening breathlessly while she poured forth from her swelling throat such a melody that poor Cobez sat down overpowered and listened, forgetting for the time his errand, Bolamah, Manilla, everything, so completely was his soul ravished from him. When she had ceased he recovered himself enough to perceive that she was as finely formed and handsome a woman as one could wish to see, and he felt sure, if Bolamah could only hear her sing, he would marry her at once, and thus have her where he could always be listening to the music of her voice.
He found no great trouble in persuading Natinga to go with him. She was poor, and, like her sex, fond of luxury and splendor, and Cobez had not been behindhand in picturing the brilliant future that lay before her, if she would leave her home and follow him. She bade adieu to her parents and friends, and set off with Cobez, but in parting felt sorrowful enough, as she remembered how proud they all had been of her; but when, after three days, she came in sight of a stately palace, and Cobez told her that, in all probability, it would be her future home, she banished her regrets, and bore herself through the gateway, on her camel, with as proud an air as a queen about to receive the homage of her subjects. Bolamah met them at the door, and conducted them to the apartments that he had appropriated to the use of his future wife. “Here,” thought Natinga, “one can but be happy.” And no wonder she thought so, for everything a woman could fancy or desire was there; the softest carpets, in which the feet sank as into mossy turf; couches of velvet and down; fountains, with gay birds dipping their tiny beaks into the spray; flowers, whose odors almost palled on the senses by their richness. Poor Natinga was at first bewildered, and Cobez feared she would not be collected enough to do her best before Bolamah at night, which he had appointed as the time when he should first listen to her music. But at evening, seated on a balcony overlooking a scene of beauty, made visible by the moonlight, she was so excited and inspired that she poured forth, as if from her very soul, such notes as Cobez had never heard from her before. Bolamah, completely ravished, declared passionately that this was the woman of all others to be his chosen companion; and the hearts of the three that evening were full of joy: Bolamah, at having such a lovely and accomplished being for his bride, Natinga, with her new-found splendor, and Cobez, that he had gained the reward that was to do so much for him. Bolamah was so proud of Natinga and her genius that he sent invitations to all the wealthy gentlemen of distinction, with their families, to come to a great feast that he was preparing, and which was to last for a whole month, and terminate with his marriage. He caused a sort of throne to be erected for himself and Natinga at the end of a splendid hall, or court, where, with a harp of gold in her hand, she performed and sang before the assembly, who were in raptures. Their applause at first pleased Bolamah, but he soon found that he was cast into the shade by the superiority of Natinga; that when he took the harp his own performance did not please even himself, and only called forth such meager applause as the politeness of his guests forced from them. And, day by day, as they became more charmed with Natinga’s music, and poured forth the flattery at her shrine that he had been wont to receive himself, he grew more disquieted, and laid the consequences of his own vanity to the account of poor Natinga. He began to fancy that her music was harsh and discordant, that it grated upon his ear, and he grew sullen and ill-humored towards her, while she, poor thing, never imagining the cause of his unhappiness, went on trying to please him by even outdoing herself, which, of course, only rendered her the more odious to him.
At last his distaste became so evident that Cobez perceived something was wrong, and shortly after, Bolamah told him that he must take her out of his sight, and endeavor to procure for him a wife whose tastes should better accord with his own. Cobez was very sorry to hear this, indeed much more grieved than Natinga herself, when she came to be told of it, for her life had latterly been made so unpleasant, by Bolamah’s harshness, she was only too glad to be permitted to go back again to the kind friends who had been so proud of her, more especially so, as Bolamah in his anxiety to get rid of her, had to make amends to her for her disappointment, by loading her with valuable presents, and graciously bidding her farewell.
Cobez conducted her again to her native place, where the whole town, when they heard that she was returning to them, came out to receive her, and carried her triumphantly to her own little home—to her parents, where her song was soon heard “ringing up the sky,” as would a wild bird’s, who had been confined in a golden cage, when it felt itself free, and again in the little nest of its infancy.