The Perwāna and other courtiers crowded forward to receive Jelāl with honour, and kissed His Lordship’s blessed hands with reverence, expressing regret that he had been put to inconvenience by his condescension. He returned compliment for compliment, and was shown upstairs.
On reaching the assembly room, he saw that the grandees had occupied the whole of the sofa, from end to end. He saluted them, and prayed for God’s grace to be showered upon them; seating himself then in the middle of the floor. Husāmu-’d-Dīn immediately rose from his seat, descended from the sofa, and took a place by the side of Jelāl.
The grandees of the assembly now arose also, excepting those who, in spite and pride, had formed the confederacy mentioned above. These kept their seats. Some of them were of the greatest eminence in learning; and one, especially, was not only very learned, but also eloquent, witty, and bold.
He, seeing what had taken place, and that all the men of rank had quitted the sofa, to seat themselves on the floor, asked in a jocose manner: “Where, according to the rules of the Order, is the chief seat in an assembly?”
Some one answered him: “In an assembly of the learned, the chief seat is in the middle of the sofa, where the professor always sits.” Another added: “With recluses, the cell of solitude is the chief seat.” A third said: “In the convents of dervish brethren, the chief seat is the lower end of the sofa, where, in reality, people put off their shoes.”
After these remarks, some one present, as an experiment, asked Jelāl, saying: “In your rule and opinion, where is the chief seat?” His answer was: “The chief seat is that where one’s beloved is found.” The interrogator now asked: “And where is your beloved?” Jelāl replied: “Thou must be blind, not to see.”
Jelāl then arose, and began to sing. Many joined; and the singing became so enthusiastic, that the nobles rent their garments.
It so happened that, after Jelāl’s death, this interlocutor of his went to Damascus, and there became blind. Friends flocked to visit him, and to condole with him. He wept bitterly, and cried aloud: “Alas, alas! what have I not suffered? That very moment, when Jelāl gave me that fatal answer, a black veil seemed to fall down over my eyes, so that I could not distinguish objects clearly, or their colours. But I have hope and faith in him, that, out of his sublime generosity, he will yet take pity on me, and pardon my presumption. The goodness of the saints is infinite; and Jelāl himself hath said: ‘Despair not because of one sin; for the ocean of divine mercy accepteth penitence.’”
The foregoing incident is also related with the following variation:—
Shemsu-’d-Dīn of Tebrīz had just then returned to Qonya, and was among those who accompanied Jelāl to the Perwāna’s palace, sitting down near him on the floor. When the question was put: “Where is your beloved?” Jelāl arose, and cast himself on the breast of Shems. That occurrence it was that made Shems, from that time forward, a man of mark in all Qonya.