He led him through a door into a narrow passage, at the end of which they descended twenty steps. Then he opened a small metal trap-door, and Haschem again descended twenty steps more. They came to a similar door; and after descending twenty more steps to another, and so on, till after passing the ninth door, they found themselves in the open air.
"Remain here till you are called," said the old man, who went back into the building through the same doors, which he shut after him.
Haschem was very curious to examine more closely the building in which he had been imprisoned: he therefore went round it, and narrowly observed it. It was a tower of nine storeys, each about fifteen feet in height. The tower had nine angles and nine flat walls; in each storey were three windows, so contrived that for every two walls without a window, the third had one. These windows were not directly over one another in the storeys, but alternate; so that only three appeared in each wall. This distribution of regularity and order reigned throughout the whole building. The walls were made of large pieces of gold, quite as smooth as glass, like large stones; and these were so skilfully put together that, even when closely looked at, the joints could not be discovered. The lattices of the windows were all of gold, like those in the upper hall, and the lower doors through which he had passed were of a yellow metal, inclining to green.
All these considerations were not calculated to lessen his conviction that no man could possibly find him out in such a prison. Suddenly a new hope awoke in him.
"I am no longer shut up in the tower," said he to himself; "here I am in the open air, in a garden: I can clamber and jump like a monkey. I may possibly find some outlet from this garden, by which I can escape."
He immediately turned from the tower, and hastened through the gardens, seeking freedom; but he soon discovered that this hope was vain. With a few steps he reached the end of the garden, and stood before a gate of lattice-work of strong smooth iron bars, so close together that he could scarcely pass his arm through. He tried to climb it by holding by the upper bars with his hands; but his feet slipped on the smooth iron, and he hurt his knee so much that, in consequence of not being able to bear the pain, he fell backwards on the earth. He now examined the lattice closely to see if there were no means of escape; but all was in vain—everywhere the bars were high, thick, and like polished glass. Mournfully he wandered round the garden: the sun's rays darting down scorched up the grass, and he sought some shade where he might screen himself from their influence. He lay down on a neighbouring mossy bank, and meditated anew on his fate. Besides his own grief at his imprisonment, the thought of his father's sorrow at his loss pained him. The exhaustion consequent on his tears and loud lamentations, joined with the noontide heat, at last caused him to fall into a deep sleep. When he awoke, the table covered with meats was again before him: he ate, and wandered anew mournfully through the garden, meditating whether he could not make a ladder from the trees around him, to aid him in his escape over the lattice. But there was something wanting for this work: he had not even a dagger or a pocket-knife. During these thoughts the old man appeared, and said,
"Evening is drawing on. Follow me in."
He led him again to the upper room of the tower, and locked the metal door upon him.
There was no change observable in his prison—only the bird seemed harassed and mournful: it sat quiet and still on the lowest perch; its plumage was rough, and its eyes dull.
"Poor creature," said Haschem, "what is the matter? Are you ill?"