CHAPTER III.
MAIMUNA, AND DANESH.
My beautiful Zeib Alnissa was a wonderful woman. On the day of our wedding, which was celebrated with truly Asiatic splendor, when meal-time came, and I took my seat at the head of the table, she could not be induced to sit by my side; but seated herself at the extreme lower end of the board. This custom, she said, we should have to observe, until we received my first wife's consent to our marriage, which would give my second the right to repeat the Bazawa grace before food. Until my new wife was entitled to perform this ceremony we were not allowed to drink from the same cup; were not permitted to clasp hands, or look into each other's eyes. I might not have respected all these rigid laws, which kept me separated from my beautiful bride, had not Zeib Alnissa herself understood how to compel me to respect them.
The Siva religion prohibits the use of wine, which is to be regretted; for, in that tropic zone, grow hundreds and hundreds of different sorts of fruits, which would yield nectarious beverages, the taste of which would cause one to forget all about wine, and disgust one with beer. Tons of deliciously sweet and aromatic sap flow from the pierced palm, and the agave, and its effect on the human senses is nothing like the stupor which results from drinking our liquors; it is rather a state of exaltation.
My charming bride understood well how to entertain me with tales of her native palm forests. She related the history of Prince Kamir Essaman, and the Princess Bedur. She told me how the prince, who lived in India, and the princess, whose home was in Persia, were brought together while they slept, by the two friendly genii, Maimuna and Danesh, who bore the sleeping lovers on their pinions to the place of meeting, and then back to their homes again. It was an interesting tale, but I grew very sleepy while listening to it. I am convinced that the spicy potion Zeib Alnissa prepared for me caused the drowsiness, and I only remember that, as I sank back on my pillow, she placed the prohibitory unsheathed sword between herself and me.
The moment I closed my eyes in sleep I quitted this earth. I could hear the rustle of wings as I was borne swiftly through the clouds, which parted with a sound like thunder—as when they are rent by lightning. By the light of the stars I could see that I was lying on the wings of the Jinnee, Danesh.
He was of gigantic form; his wings, like those of a bat stretched from horizon to horizon; his hair looked like bamboo rods, and his beard like palm leaves.
So swift was our flight that the moon changed from full to last quarter above us. A meteor raced to overtake us, but, when it came abreast with Danesh, he thrust out his foot, and gave it a kick that burst it, and sent myriads of sparks flying in all directions. Looking downward, I saw China, which I recognized by its porcelain towers, and long canals. Then Thibet, with the snow-clad summits of the Himalayan range, and the great Mongolian plain.
At last we arrived over Mount Ararat. I knew where I was, by the tongues of flame which encircled the mount like a wreath. They were the altars of the fire-worshipping Parsees—the source of Baku's eternal fires; and Danesh was one of the great spirits of the flame-adoring heathen. On the summit of Mount Ararat was a magnificent palace—to describe its splendors is impossible to the human tongue! Its walls were covered with the names of those persons who have been happy, and have thanked God therefor. The letters in which the names are written are so radiant, they make night as light as day.
Here, in a sumptuous apartment, with silken hangings, and glittering with gems, Danesh laid me gently down on a divan; and immediately began to laugh in a tone that sounded like thunder.