With these words he dismissed him, after he had first inquired the marks by which his lost son might be recognized.
When Naima again sat with his friend Saad in the evening, he related to him the gracious and comforting words of the Caliph. Saad perceived that hope was again revived in his friend's heart, and that he confidently trusted to find his son. He thought it therefore his duty to damp this hope, and said,
"Beloved friend, I have once heard a speech, which by its truth sank deeply in my memory: it is, 'Trust not in princes; they are but men.' The moral of which is, that the mightiest on earth are subject to fate. If the Caliph have influence in distant lands, it must be in a confined and narrow limit. That which is but a span distant is under the control of all-governing fate, even from the meanest slave to the Ruler of the Faithful."
But if the power of Haroun al Raschid were bounded by the immensity of fate, yet he did all he could to fulfil the hope he had raised in Naima's heart. He gave a commission to all his servants in his kingdom, high and low, and to his ambassadors in the neighbouring kingdoms, and even sent into distant lands, with the princes of which he was friendly, and on the same day dispatched messengers with the charge to search for Haschem with all diligence, and gave them a description how they might recognize him if they found him. But week after week passed away, month after month, and even a whole year elapsed, without intelligence being received either of the life or death of the lost one. So all hope of finding him now deserted the father for ever.
CHAPTER III.
THE CAPTIVE.
Haschem was not dead; he still lived, but in such retirement that it was impossible to discover his abode. He followed the snow-white bird till evening, without clearly knowing why: he was induced to think he could catch the curious creature, particularly as it flew at such a moderate height from the ground, and so slowly that he hoped quickly to reach it. The tardiness of its flight made him conjecture that it must have a defect in its wing: he often stretched out his hand to it, and drew near it, but the bird again raised its wings, and flew a little in advance. Haschem now felt himself tired, and would have given up the pursuit, but the bird also seemed fatigued; he approached it, but again the bird flew a little farther off. In this chase he reached a hill, which he climbed; he was now in a narrow meadow-valley, which he ran along; twilight came, but the snow-white colour of the bird still lighted him on. At last the pursued bird perched in a thicket; he hastened to it, but when he closed his hand to take his prisoner, it flew away, leaving only one feather of its tail behind, which he had tightly grasped; still he saw it through the twilight flying before him, and he hastened after it. The bird seemed now to quicken its pace; and as he followed and had once nearly caught it, he continued the pursuit with more eagerness: he ran through the high grass, and with his strained sight fixed on this glimmering white object, he saw nothing else. Thus he came unexpectedly to a little dam which lay across his path; he jumped in and tried to climb the other side, but it was so steep that he fell in with some of the crumbling earth: while the water rushed over his head he lost all consciousness. When he came to himself, he lay on the turf, and a tall, grey-headed man, of strange appearance, stood before him, clothed in a long black robe, which reached to his ankles, and was fastened by a glittering girdle of a fiery colour. Instead of a turban, he wore a high pointed cap on his head, at the end of which was a tassel of the same hue as the girdle.
"Has your life returned to you?" he asked: "you deserved to be suffocated in the mud. Come, we must go farther before daylight quite leaves us."
With these words he raised him from the ground, passed his left arm round his body, and flew with him through the air as quickly as an arrow. Haschem again momentarily lost recollection: it is not known how long he remained in this condition. He awoke at last as from a deep sleep; and as he looked around, the first thing he recognized was a cage of gold wire, which hung from the ceiling by a long golden chain, and within was the snow-white bird he had so long followed. He found himself alone with this bird in a hall, the roof of which was supported on pillars of white marble, and the walls were built of smooth pale-green stones. The openings to the windows were skilfully contrived with so many windings and narrow gratings, that even the white bird could have found no space to pass through, even if it had escaped from the cage. Beside one wall stood a crystal urn; and from this fell a stream of clear water, which, passing over the curved brim of the urn, dripped into a white basin beneath, from which it disappeared unseen.
Whilst he observed this, and wondered what had happened to him, and how he came there, he suddenly heard the old man in the black robe enter from behind a curtain. He carried a small golden box in his hand, and approached him with these words: