“You would act then with a fool’s discretion; for brave men should be honourable, and ’tis an honourable act to proclaim rogues, who are the bane of society:—not to proclaim them would be an act of treachery against honest men.”
“In truth, I did not take thee for an honest man, though I did for a brave one; but I suspect thee to be neither, and only fit to rub a horse’s crupper, and perform the slave’s drudgery. So be it, thou shalt soon know thy vocation.”
“These bonds are thy security,” said the traveller, raising his hands, which were still tied with the turban. “Cowards are always brave, when they are beyond the reach of danger. Does it become thy manhood to insult a maimed and unarmed man?”
This appeal, though it galled the pride, roused the better spirit of the robber, and he said:—“Well! our notions of valour may be like our notions of honesty; therefore, let both be a divided question; but, since you decline joining your fortune with ours, you must settle our demand for home and nourishment, and as you seem to have no gold of your own, we must turn you into a disposable commodity, and get something for our trouble and care of you.”
The stranger now proceeded with his captors, and, after a march of some hours, they reached a village bordering upon the forest. It consisted of a few miserable huts, and its inhabitants were of the lowest class. Shortly after their arrival, a merchant made his appearance, who purchased the prisoner from the robbers; and he was left with a stranger in the new and unenviable character of a slave. This was anything but a realization of his dream; it however satisfied him, if he harboured a different conviction before, that dreams are the mere fantastic creations of an excited brain, and he felt ashamed of having allowed so flimsy an illusion to obtain one moment’s influence over his mind.
There was nothing to be gained by despondency, and he resolved to submit to his destiny, with a secret trust in God, and a determination to direct the tenour of his life according to the pure suggestions of a rigid and inflexible conscience. So soon as he had become the merchant’s property, the latter examined his wound, and, having carefully dressed it, as carefully felt his chest and limbs, in order to form some idea of the texture of his muscles. This preliminary settled, he expressed himself well satisfied with his purchase. The merchant was a little shrivelled man, with a light brown complexion, exhibiting a dull ochreous tinge, as if in him the whole biliary structure were placed in his head. He had a thin straggling beard, so scattered over the corrugated surface of his sharp-pointed chin, as to give him the appearance of a senile hag, rather than that of a venerable slave-dealer. He was accompanied by several athletic attendants, who amply made up in bone and sinew for the deficiency of their master in both particulars.
Having asked his new slave a few questions respecting his former habits of life, and thus ascertained that he had been accustomed to those hardy exploits likely to have inured his body to endurance, calculating that he should make a handsome profit by his bargain, the thrifty chafferer ordered him to be carefully attended to. After a day’s rest at the village, the merchant directed his route towards Khorassan, whither they arrived, after a laborious journey. The slave was lodged at the house of his purchaser, who fed him well, and used him with sufficient kindness, in order to bring him into the best possible condition for sale. He took care to have it rumoured that he had a stout handsome fellow to dispose of, such as could not be matched in all Persia; in consequence, many persons, willing to purchase, came to see the marvel; but, finding that the description was not exactly borne out by the reality, and the sum demanded being more than they could afford, or were willing to pay, they declined entering upon a bargain.
The merchant began to grow impatient; and, as he was daily incurring an expense without profit, he thought it would be better to abate something of his demand and conclude an immediate sale, than to throw away more money upon the doubtful chance of obtaining a better price. An expedient, however, struck him. Conceiving that bondage could be desirable to no man, it occurred to him that the object of his anxiety and late disappointment might have the means of purchasing his own freedom. When this bright conclusion came across his mind, delighted with the excessive novelty of the thought, he argued that a man ought to pay more for his own liberty than another for the privilege of withholding it from him, because it was a far greater benefit to the one than to the other; and he consequently determined to raise his demand in proportion. With a portentous smile quivering upon his features, he approached the object of his anticipated gain, and said—
“Would you not be glad to enjoy your freedom?”
“You may as well ask a starving man if he loves rice.”