"And is it not enough," said Massour, "that it should possess an existence thus fragrant and beautiful, that it should enjoy the thick shade, and inhale the delicious freshness of this grove; here peacefully to bloom away its life, here gently to shed its leaves when, pale but not withered, they fall one by one, as vanish, without pain, blessings that have been enjoyed, as glide away the last days of a happy life, softly coloured by remembrance?"
"Wretched happiness," said Zuléiman; "noble flower, thou wilt not accept it! I see thee swell and unfold thy leaves, proud with the thought of shining in the world." And a second time he was about to pluck the flower.
"Stop!" cried Nadir, in his turn seizing the arm of Zuléiman; then for a moment he was silent, his eyes fixed upon the rose; a painful anxiety tormented his heart: he shuddered at the thought of abandoning to such sudden destruction that flower, so brilliant and so happy, while at the same time he sighed to see it waste, useless and unknown, the treasures of its precious existence. "Stop! Zuléiman!" he continued, "let us not thus rashly precipitate things into the abyss of our wills before examining what may be the destiny marked out for them by the Father of beings."
At this moment, a sage was seen approaching. The world had no secrets from him. He understood the language of the birds, and could divine the thoughts of the flowers. He knew what is still more difficult: how to select the narrow path of duty in the intricate ways of life, and to trace out its precise direction; the only rule capable of sustaining the mind of man, and of guiding his will amidst the uncertainties of desire. The three youths addressed him at once: "Father," said they, "enlighten our doubts, unfold to us the destiny of this Rose."
As the sage was about to reply, warlike sounds were heard. Zuléiman sprang forward, seized his arms, and hurried to range himself beneath the standard of the Sophi. Massour, with a smile, inhaled the perfume of the flower which he fancied he had preserved, and returned to the palace of his father, to enjoy the delights of life.
"My son," said the sage to Nadir, "this is the hour in which thy grandsire has need of thy assistance, that he may warm himself in the rays of the morning sun. Let not an old man lose one of those reviving beams." And Nadir hastened to obey the words of the Sage.
In the evening, his mind still perplexed with the same doubt, Nadir returned to the grove. The sage was there; and there, also, was the Rose. Its perfume was beginning to languish; its full-blown leaves seemed to have exhausted the plenitude of existence, and to be expending their last powers. "One night, at most, will terminate its life," said Nadir: "perhaps the morning zephyr is already commissioned to waft away its remains. Tell me, O father! if, in thus wasting on its stem, it has fulfilled the destiny appointed for it by the Most High, and to which it was called by its own nature."
"This morning, my son," resumed the sage, "it might have cast a look of sadness on the obscure retreat to which Providence had condemned it. It might have inquired of the Most High, wherefore that rich fragrance enclosed within its breast; wherefore the ravishing colours with which it is adorned? but at noon there came a traveller, overpowered by fatigue; his eyes, distressed by the dazzling brilliancy of the day, demanded comfort; his sense of smell sought deliverance from the dust of the road; all his senses required refreshment, all his body called for repose. Attracted by the fragrance of the Rose, he penetrated into its retreat; it delighted his eye, and revived his senses; it remained suspended over his head while he slept, lavishing on him its rich perfume till the evening; and he departed, refreshed, happy, and blessing the Rose whose dying fragrance now rises in thankfulness towards the Most High, for the destiny he had assigned it." Nadir also raised his thoughts to heaven, and blessed the Lord of nature for the destiny of the Rose.