"The attachment shown me by Asphand," said he, "removes my fears concerning the resentment which I might suppose him to possess: here are his letters; read them, and you will see how well he is pleased with this alliance. Besides, the magnificence of his presents exceeds even the force of his expressions."
The old minister, after reading the letters, continued thoughtful, and with downcast eyes.
"Are you not satisfied with what you have read?" said the King.
"A dangerous reptile," replied the minister, "when it means to introduce itself anywhere, does not try to frighten by its odious hissings: it creeps in artfully under the folds of its flexible and thin body; its scales are glittering and smooth; its looks are soft and fawning, and it takes care to conceal its treacherous and venomous sting. The letters of Asphand are studied: doubt not that you have offended; and the pretended softness of his expressions only conceals a scheme of revenge, the consequences of which you ought to guard against and prevent."
Bohetzad, entirely occupied with his love, and supposing that the minister who thus spoke to him was influenced by motives of jealousy, paid no regard to the advice, which proceeded from attachment, zeal, and prudence, but allowed himself to be blinded concerning the conduct of Asphand. The latter, in prosecution of his plan, and under pretence of appeasing some rumours in certain parts of the kingdom, left the capital, in a few months after, with his whole retinue. As soon as he saw himself out of the reach of power, he communicated to the governors of the provinces the affront which he had received; he excited them to revolt, by inspiring them with a fear that they would all meet with a treatment similar to that which he had received; and to determine them, he calumniated, in every instance, the person and government of Bohetzad.
On receiving the messengers of the Grand Vizier, the grandees of the kingdom, enraged against a Prince whose administration was held forth in such odious colours, concerted together, from one province to another, and assured Asphand that, upon the first signal given by him, they would take the field with the troops under their command. The Vizier at the same time warned the Princes who remained at Issessara to hold themselves in readiness against the day on which he should come to complete his revenge, and to free the State from a tyrant who was sunk in effeminacy.
The plot was executed before Bohetzad had the smallest suspicion of it. The city of Issessara was completely invested by the army of Asphand. On receiving this news, the King armed in haste; he ordered the troops who were about his person to follow him; but they had been gained over, and were devoted to his enemy. He saw no safety for himself but in flight. He saddled, with his own hands, one of his finest coursers; and, taking Baherjoa behind him, endeavoured to gain the desert. He made a passage for himself through the midst of his mutinous subjects, whom he trod under his feet. The young hero, whose courage seemed only to be increased by love, burst like a torrent through a troop of those who wished to interrupt his passage; his invincible spear spared none of the rebels; and his horse, as vigorous as swift, soon carried him out of sight of his enemies.
He was now in the midst of the desert; and, night obliging him to allow some repose to his wife, fatigued with so violent an expedition, he stopped at the foot of a frightful mountain. On this spot the Queen, exhausted with weariness, gave birth to her first-born child, and the Prince received in his arms a young boy, no less beautiful than his mother.
The tender pair loaded him with caresses, and soon forgot, in their new joy, the fatigue, uneasiness, and horror of their situation. The child was wrapped in a part of the Queen's robes; and, in this solitude, they enjoyed a profound sleep. The returning day invited them, however, to pursue their journey. The affectionate mother nursed her infant tenderly, but it pined away, and the mother herself was in danger. Bohetzad then saw himself under the cruel necessity of sacrificing nature to duty. He perceived a limpid fountain, on the borders of which there was a green bank, defended from the rays of the sun by the neighbouring willows. Here the unhappy parents abandoned to the care of Providence the object of their affection, having first watered it with their tears.
"Great Allah!" said the afflicted mother, "Thou who formerly watched over the young Ishmael, take care of this innocent creature. Send the preserving angel to him. We have no hope but in Thy succour."