Nourgehan formed a counsel of the most worthy men of the empire, ordained wise and prudent laws, and departed to visit his provinces, with a resolution of releasing his people from any possible abuse of an authority which is always dangerous, when those who exercise it are at too great a distance from the Sovereign. This Prince, endowed with every virtue, had no other wish than that of deserving after his death the noble epitaph of that Persian monarch who has graved upon his tomb, "Weep! for Shah Chuja is dead!"
Nourgehan, visiting all the provinces of his kingdom, had already gone through the greatest part of them, and remedied numberless disorders, when his curiosity engaged him in a journey into Tartary, his neighbouring kingdom. Finding himself so near their country, he had a desire also to see and know the manners of these Tartars, who were more civilized than others, for they had cities and fixed habitations: their women also are not shut up like those of the other Asiatics. The Tartars came to meet the Emperor of the Moguls. Some of them performed courses on their swiftest horses to do him honour, others, accompanied with their women, formed a kind of dance which, though a little savage, was not destitute of grace. In the number of the Tartar women who presented themselves before him, Nourgehan was struck with the beauty of a young person of eighteen, named Damake.[10] She possessed great beauty; an inexpressible sense and modesty was visible in her countenance. Nourgehan did homage to so many charms, and caused a place in his harem to be proposed to her, but she refused it. Love but too often causes the greatest change in the worthiest characters. The Prince, so wise, and till then so moderate, led away by his passion, joined menaces to his entreaties; he even went so far as to threaten that he would bring a formidable army thither to obtain a beauty whose refusals did not permit him to hope to win her otherwise. He made this rash speech to Damake alone; for if the Tartars, who are a people most jealous of their liberty, had had the least knowledge of it, war would have been that moment declared. But Damake answered him with the utmost sweetness, without showing the least fear, and without losing that respect which she owed to a Sovereign; and it was with the gentle and yet resolved tone that courage and truth always inspire, that she related this little history to him:
[10] Joy of the heart.
"One of the great Lamas," said she, "of whose supreme authority in this country you are not ignorant, fell in love, in this very place, with a maiden of my tribe. She not only refused all that he offered to her, but she would not accept the proposal he made to marry her. The love she felt for a musician was the sole cause of her refusal, which she confessed to the Lama, with a hope of appearing unworthy of his attachment. But that Prince—for they are looked upon as such—distracted with anger and sorrow, caused his unworthy rival to be put to death, and under the pretext of her being agreeable to the Grand Lama, it was not difficult to have her carried off. For you are sensible, my lord, that in this country every one trembles at the very name of him, whom we look upon as a god. But the Lama enjoyed not much satisfaction from his cruelty and injustice; for after she had promised to marry him, in order to obtain a greater liberty, she precipitated herself from the top of a rock, which can be perceived from hence, and which is always shown in the country as a proof of the constancy and resolution of which the Tartar virgins are capable. It is not," continued Damake, "love for another that makes me refuse the offers of your Majesty. My heart to this hour is free; but, my lord, learn to know it thoroughly. It is noble, and perhaps worthy of the favour you condescend to honour me with. My weak charms have seduced you; but a woman who has no other merit than beauty, in my opinion, is of little value."
"Perhaps," returned Nourgehan, "the difference of our religions is an obstacle to my happiness?"
"No, my lord, I am a Mussulman," resumed Damake. "Can you imagine I could submit to the ideas that are given us of the Grand Lama? Can we believe that a man is immortal? The artifice that is made use of to persuade us of it is too gross. In one word, my eyes are too much enlightened for me to hesitate between the ideas inculcated by these priests, and those by which the divinity of God is preached by his most sacred Prophet. No, my lord," continued she, "I am sensible of the risk I shall run by your goodness to me. Time causes the nightingale to perish and the rose to fade. The moon shines during the night; but its lustre fades when the day approaches. Can I expect, therefore, that time should spare me? Yet, notwithstanding these reflections, I confess, my lord, I should be flattered with the thought of pleasing a man whose virtues I esteem above his greatness. But I should wish to please him by other qualities: I should wish to have rendered myself worthy of him by services so considerable, that even a marriage thus unsuitable, far from exposing him to reproaches, should only serve to make his choice more applauded."
Nourgehan, charmed at finding such uncommon sense and such delicate sentiments in an object whose figure alone would have rendered her amiable, admired her virtue, gave her his royal promise never to constrain her inclinations, and resolved never to depart from her. He sent a numerous train of slaves and camels to the beauteous Damake, who followed him with all her family. She would never have consented to this step if she had been obliged to abandon her family, to whom she was fondly attached. The King saw her every day, and could not exist a moment without wishing to see her, or without admiring her when he did see her. In the meantime the discourses of the Court and of the populace reached the ears of Damake. She knew the evil opinion they had of her. To repair this wrong she conjured Nourgehan to assemble all the learned men of his kingdom, that she might answer their questions, and afterwards propose some to them. Nourgehan, who dreaded lest a person so young as Damake should expose herself too hastily, and return with confusion from such a dispute, used his utmost efforts to dissuade her from her request; for the fear and concern that is felt for those whom we love is most certainly far stronger than that which interests us for ourselves. His remonstrances were in vain.
Learned men were assembled to the number of twelve; and in the audience that was given them, the King was placed upon an elevated throne, in his habits of ceremony. Damake was seated lower, opposite to him, leaning upon a sofa, dressed with the greatest plainness, but shining with every charm of youth and every gift of nature, surrounded by the twelve sages, venerable by their extreme age and their flowing beards, leaning upon a large table, round which they and she were seated. The sages, who knew not with what design Nourgehan had assembled them, were extremely astonished when he made known to them the project of Damake. They looked upon the adversary who was presented to them, and kept silence, not doubting that the King did it with the design of showing them contempt. Nourgehan said to them,
"I perceive your thoughts, but I have given my royal promise, and it is your duty to acquit me of it. Propose boldly the hardest questions to this lady, who has engaged to resolve all the difficulties that your great learning gives you the opportunity of proposing to her."
The first sage demanded, "What is that which takes the colour of those who look upon it, which men cannot do without, and which of itself has neither form nor colour?"