When night had set in the lady called to the slave-boy: “Hyacinth, take the superintendent on thy back and carry him to the convent in the place of that Kalandar, and should he wish to return home in the morning do not allow him.” The lad obeyed; and towards morning the superintendent recovered his senses a little, but as the opiate had made his palate very bitter he became extremely thirsty. He fancied he was in his own house and bawled out: “Narcissus,[246] bring water.” The other Kalandars awoke, and after hearing several shouts of this kind they concluded he was under the effects of bhang and said: “Poor fellow! The narcissus is in the garden. This is the convent of sufferers, and there are green garments enough here. Arise and sober thyself; for the morning and harbinger of benefits, as well as of the acquisition of victuals for subsistence, is approaching.” When the superintendent heard these words he thought they were in a dream, for he had not yet fully recovered his senses. He sat quietly, but was amazed on beholding the vaults and ceiling of the convent. He got up, looked at the clothes in which he was dressed, and at the marks tattooed on his body, and began to doubt whether he was awake or asleep. He washed his face, and perceived that the caravan of his mustachios had likewise departed from the plain of his countenance. In this state of perplexity he went out of the monastery and proceeded to his house. There his wife and servants had made their arrangements and were expecting his arrival. Approaching the door and knocking for admission, Hyacinth demanded: “Whom seekest thou, O Kalandar?” “I want to enter the house.” Quoth the slave-boy: “Evidently thou hast taken thy morning draught of bhang more copiously than usual, since thou hast thus foolishly mistaken the road to thy convent. Depart! This is not the place in which vagabond Kalandars are harboured. This is the mansion of the superintendent of the police, and if the símurgh should look uncivilly at this place from his fastness in the west of Mount Káf,[247] the wings of his impertinence would be at once singed.” The superintendent replied: “What nonsense is this thou art speaking? Get out of my way, for I do not relish thy imbecile prattle.” But when he would have entered, Hyacinth dealt him a blow on the shoulder with a bludgeon, which the superintendent returned with a box on the ear, and they began to wrestle together. Just then the lady and her slave-girls rushed forth from the rear and assailed the superintendent with sticks and stones, shouting: “This Kalandar wishes in broad daylight to force his way into the house of the superintendent, who is unfortunately sick, else he would have hanged the rascal.” By this time all the neighbours were assembled before the house, and on seeing the Kalandar’s shameless proceedings they exclaimed: “Look at that impudent Kalandar, who wants forcibly to enter the house of the superintendent!” Ultimately the crowd amounted to more than five hundred persons, and the superintendent was put to flight, pursued by all the boys of the town, who pelted him with stones.
At a distance of three farsangs from the town was a village, where the superintendent concealed himself in a corner of the mosque. In the evenings he went from house to house and begged for food to sustain life, until his beard grew again and the tattoo marks began to disappear. Whenever any one inquired for the superintendent at his house, the answer was, that the gentleman was sick. After a month had passed, the grief of separation and the misery of his condition had again drawn the superintendent back to the city. He went to the monastery because fear hindered him from going to his own house. His wife happened one day to catch a glimpse of him from a window, and perceived him sitting in the same dress with a company of Kalandars. She felt compassion for him, and thought: “He has had enough of this!” Making a loaf and putting an opiate into it, she said to the slave-boy: “When all the Kalandars are asleep, go and place this loaf under the head of the superintendent,” which he did accordingly. When the superintendent awoke during the night and found the loaf, he supposed it had been placed there by one of his companions, and ate part of it and fell into a deep sleep. Some hours afterwards, the slave-boy, as directed by his mistress, went to the convent, and taking the superintendent on his back carried him home.
When it was morning the lady took off the Kalandar’s dress from her husband and clothed him in his own garments, and then began to bake sweetmeats as on the former occasion. After some time the gentleman began to move, and his wife exclaimed: “O superintendent, do not sleep so much. I have told you that we are to spend this day in joy and festivity, and it was not right of you to pass the time in this lazy manner. Lift up your head and see the beautiful sweetmeats I have baked for you.” When the superintendent opened his eyes and saw himself dressed in his own clothes, the rose-bush of his amazement again brought forth the flowers of astonishment, and he cried: “God be praised! What has happened to me?” He sat up, and said: “Wife, things have occurred to me which I can hardly describe.” Quoth the lady: “From your uneasy motions during sleep, it appears that you have had very strange dreams.” “Strange dreams!” echoed the husband. “From the moment I lay down I have experienced the most extraordinary adventures.” The lady rejoined: “Assuredly! Last night you ate food which disagreed with your stomach, and to-day its vapours seem to have ascended into your brains, causing you all this distress.” Said he: “You are right. Last evening I was with a party at the house of Serjeant Bahman, where I heartily partook of a pillau, and it has surely been the cause of all my trouble.”
When the three companions in the lists of deceit had executed their different stratagems, they went according to arrangement to the same bath, in order to state their cases to the old hag who had promised to award the ring to the most cunning of the three ladies; but to their surprise and chagrin they learned that she had departed to another country, thus outwitting them all, and kept the coveted ring for herself.
THE ENVIOUS VAZÍR.
In days of yore and times of old there was a merchant in Yaman of the name of Khoja Bashír, who was adorned with all good qualities. He enjoyed the intimacy of the king’s society, and the star of his good luck was so much in the ascendant with the king’s favour that the splendour of the lamp of his presence was constantly illuming the courtly assembly of royalty, which could never for a moment dispense with it. The king was accustomed to avail himself of his advice in all grave and subtle affairs, and rewarded him with many favours. But his majesty had a Vazír of an envious disposition, the merchandise of whose unhappy temper was neither current nor acceptable in the warehouse of humane qualities. This Vazír hated Khoja Bashír because he was superior to himself in ability and was much in the king’s intimacy. He thus reasoned with himself: “It is probable that the king will become alienated from me and confer the vazírate upon Khoja Bashír. It is every man’s duty to look after his own affairs and endeavour to remove his enemies. While Khoja Bashír continues to drink from the cup of life and dress in the robe of royal favours, the colour of distress will never be removed from the face of the sun of my quietude, nor can my heart rest for a moment in peace. Therefore I must make the utmost efforts and concoct a plan by which Khoja Bashír will not only lose the regard of the king but be either put to death or exiled from this city.” Day and night this purpose was uppermost in his mind, until on one occasion he happened to be alone with the sultan, and availing himself of the opportunity he said to his majesty:
“O king of high lineage and great power,
By thy existence the throne’s glory is honoured!
May the flag of thy prosperity and grandeur always adorn the sphere!
The very dust of thy court brightens the eye of dignity!