When Hatim had read the inscription, he began to meditate within himself whether that information was not sufficient, and if it would not be needless to go further; but on mature reflection, he resolved to enter and examine the place with his own eyes. He took leave of the keeper, and boldly entered the door of the bath. He had advanced but three steps, when, on looking around him, he saw neither the keeper nor the gate of the bath, but a wide and dreary desert. He stood still in astonishment and said to himself, “O Hatim, here is certainly the end of thine earthly pilgrimage.” At length he aroused himself from despairing thoughts and began to wander about the desert. After some time he espied at a distance a human form, and great was his joy at the sight; for he concluded that the place was inhabited at no great distance.
He bent his steps toward the figure, and was delighted to find that it was approaching him. When they came near each other, the strange figure saluted Hatim, and having produced a mirror, presented it to him. Hatim looked at the mirror, and said to the giver, “What is this I see in the mirror? Is it not the bath of Badgard, and are you not the keeper?”—“I am,” was the reply. “Tell me,” said Hatim, “how am I to find the bath?”—“Proceed forward,” said the strange figure, “and you will soon reach it.”
Hatim, rejoiced at this information, asked the man who he was. “I am,” said he, “a hireling connected with the bath: I wander about here waiting the arrival of strangers; when any one comes, it is my office to conduct him into the bath, and attend him while bathing. For my services I expect a handsome reward; so if you be liberal, it will be better for you.”—“Are you the only attendant,” inquired Hatim, “or are there others along with you?”—“There are others also who attend,” replied the man, “but it is my turn to-day.”—“Well,” said Hatim, “I have travelled from afar to enjoy this bath, therefore shew me the nearest way.”
The man of the bath proceeded onwards, and Hatim followed till they had gone nearly a farasang, when a splendid structure surmounted by a lofty dome appeared before them. Arrived at the door the guide entered the building, and motioned to Hatim to follow. Hatim entered, and the attendant conducted him to a marble cistern brimful of pure water, and said to him, “Stand in the water while I pour some of it over your head.”—“Let me first,” said Hatim, “put off my clothes; for I cannot enter the bath dressed as I am.” The man assisted Hatim in undressing; after which he led him into the water, and poured three jars of the liquid over his head. On the application of the third jar of water, Hatim heard a tremendous sound, while thick darkness enveloped the bath. As soon as objects became visible, he looked around him, and to his dismay beheld the large dome converted into a solid mass of rock transparent as crystal and hard as adamant. The floor was covered with water, which gushed from the earth, and had by that time reached the middle of his legs. The bath was every moment filling; and when the water became knee deep, Hatim, in the utmost consternation, searched round and round for an outlet from his prison. His efforts were fruitless; no trace of the door remained; all around him was the same solid, smooth, and transparent rock. Now the water rose to his breast, and like a maniac he rushed backwards and forwards in search of some way of escape. At length the depth of the water was such that his feet no longer reached the bottom. He then kept himself afloat by swimming. While in this state, he could not refrain from saying to himself, “O Hatim, thy friends have uniformly dissuaded thee from this rash undertaking; but thou hast disregarded their admonitions, and hast cast thyself into calamity in spite of every warning. Well, what will be, will be; if in the service of thy Creator thou shouldst lose a thousand lives, it would be nothing.”
Finally Hatim was borne up by the water to the very pinnacle of the dome. As his strength had become exhausted, he eagerly grasped the top of the dome that he might rest a little from his toil. The moment he touched the top a deafening noise like the loudest thunder burst upon his ears, and in an instant he found himself standing in the midst of a desert. He looked around, but nothing met his sight except the bare earth and the silent skies. He advanced, it seemed a matter of no moment which way, congratulating himself on his escape and considering himself clear of the enchantment. For three days and nights he thus proceeded, when he beheld at a distance a palace of lofty structure. He advanced towards it, expecting to find it inhabited, and, on his nearer approach, saw that the palace was surrounded by a beautiful garden. As the door was opened he entered; but he had not ventured far ere he thought it safer to remain without. He therefore made for the gate by which he had entered, but no trace of it could he find. He was now convinced that he had not yet got clear of the enchantment of Badgard.
Hatim, thus helpless, wandered in every direction through the garden, which abounded with flowers of every hue and trees bearing fruit of every sort. As his hunger was extreme, he began to eat of the fruit; but his appetite was not in the least diminished. At last he ventured within the precincts of the palace, which was completely surrounded by statues of marble. The statues stood in straight lines; and the lower half of them seemed fixed in the solid rock which supported them.
Wrapt in wonder at what he saw, Hatim much desired to know the secrets of that mysterious mansion. Meanwhile a bird like a parrot cried to him from within the palace, “O Hatim, why stand you there? Why have you washed your hands of life by journeying hither?” Hatim listened to the voice of the parrot, and was about to enter the house, when he happened to cast his eyes on the inscription over the door, which ran thus: “Know, O mortal, that thou canst not escape hence with life. This is the enchanted palace of the renowned Kaiumarath, who, when hunting in these regions, found a diamond weighing fifty ounces. He showed this superb diamond to his courtiers and attendants, and asked them if they could produce another to match it. They declared that the world did not contain its fellow. Kaiumarath then resolved to preserve it in a place of such safety that no one could rob him of it. For this purpose he built the bath of Badgard. The diamond is preserved in the body of the parrot; and whosoever enters this garden shall never return unless he get possession of the diamond. On the chair within the hall is laid a bow with arrows; let the visitor take it up and shoot three arrows at the parrot, and if he hit it directly through the head he will be able to break the enchantment; if he miss, he at once becomes a statue of marble.”
Hatim read the inscription, cast a look of despair upon the lifeless statues, and exclaimed, “Alas, Hatim! thou too art likely to remain here till the last day. Thou hast too rashly risked thy life and shalt soon add another to the number of these victims. Well, in that case thy troubles will cease, and the silence of death is preferable to the misery of life. But if the Almighty has decreed thy success, then thou wilt yet escape and thy friend be made happy.”
After this soliloquy Hatim entered the hall and lifted the bow and arrows from the chair. He then took his station, applied one of the arrows to the string, and carefully examined his distance. He drew the arrow to his shoulder and shot; but the parrot leaped from the spot where he stood, and clung to the roof of his cage. The arrow had missed; and straightway Hatim’s feet became a mass of marble up to the knees.
The parrot resumed his former station, and said to Hatim, “Desist, rash man, ere worse befall thee.” In the utmost despair Hatim began to consider his dismal situation, and while the tears filled his eyes, he said, “Now indeed is my life ended; but is it not better to die than to live in disgrace? My arrow has missed its aim and I am partly transformed into a block of marble. Let me try another: if I succeed, good; if not, I shall be at rest from the pangs of disappointment.” He seized a second arrow, shot and missed; for the parrot had changed its place as before. Again the parrot called, “Desist rash man, the enterprise is beyond thy might.” Hatim had now become a lifeless statue up to the waist; but he resolved to persevere to the last. “Now,” he said, “my hope of life is indeed small; may God preserve all others from a similar fate. My death is near, but happen what may, I will discharge the third arrow. Whatever the Creator has decreed, must come to pass.”