Although he assured them that all this was true, yet the people, who listened to him, only laughed at what he said, which so confused him, that he did not know himself what to think of all that had happened. At length he arose, and walked into the city, and the crowd followed him, crying out, “A madman! a madman!” On hearing this, some ran to the windows, others came out at their doors, and some joining those who had surrounded Bedreddin, cried out also in the same manner, “A madman!” without knowing why. Being much embarrassed by this occurrence, he came to the house of a pastry-cook, who was opening his shop, and entered it, to escape from the hooting of the mob, who followed him.
This pastry-cook had formerly been the chief of a troop of wandering Arabs, who attacked caravans, and although he was established at Damascus, where no one had any reason to complain of his conduct, yet was he feared by all, who had any knowledge of him. The first look, therefore, which he cast on the populace that followed Bedreddin, dispersed them. The pastry-cook, seeing the coast clear, began to question the young man, inquiring who he was, and what had led him to Damascus. Bedreddin did not conceal either his birth, or the death of the grand vizier, his father; and then proceeded to relate how he had left Balsora, and in what manner, after falling asleep on the tomb of his father, he had, on waking, found himself at Cairo, where he had married a lady. Lastly, he expressed his surprise at seeing himself in Damascus, without being able to comprehend any of these miracles.
“Your history is very astonishing,” said the pastry-cook, “but if you will follow my advice, you will not disclose to any one the circumstance you have related to me; and you will wait patiently, until Heaven shall be pleased to put a period to the misfortunes with which it thinks proper to afflict you. You may remain with me till such a change takes place, and as I have no children, I will acknowledge you as my son, if you consent. After I have adopted you, you may go freely about the city, and will no longer be exposed to the insults of the populace.”
Although this adoption conferred no great honour on the son of a grand vizier, Bedreddin nevertheless accepted the proposal of the pastry-cook; judging very properly, that it was the only step he could take in his present situation. The pastry-cook procured him a dress, and taking witnesses with him, went before a cadi, to declare, that he acknowledged him as his son; after which Bedreddin resided with him, taking only the simple name of Hassan, and learned the art of making pastry.
Whilst this was passing at Damascus, the daughter of Schemseddin Mohammed awoke; and not finding Bedreddin by her side, concluded, that he had risen softly, not to interrupt her slumbers, and that he would soon come back again. She was waiting his return, when the vizier Schemseddin Mohammed, her father, much affected by the affront he conceived had been put upon him by the sultan of Egypt, came and knocked at the door of her apartment, that he might bewail with her the unhappy destiny she had been forced to submit to. He called her by her name, and she no sooner heard his voice than she got up to open the door to him. She kissed his hand, and received him with an air of so much satisfaction, that the vizier, who expected to find her bathed in tears, and as much afflicted as he felt himself, was extremely surprised. “Unhappy girl,” cried he, in an angry tone, “is it thus you appear before me? After the horrid sacrifice you have just completed, can you present yourself to me with a countenance which bespeaks content?” When the bride perceived her father’s displeasure at the joy which brightened her features, she replied, “My lord, I entreat you not to reproach me so unjustly. It is not that monster, the hunchback, who is more detestable in my eyes, than death itself, to whom I have been married; all the company treated him with such derision and contempt, that he was obliged to go away and hide himself, and make room for a charming young man who is my true husband.”—“What story are you relating,” interrupted the grand vizier, “has not the hunchback slept with you to-night?”—“No, my lord,” returned she, “I have slept only with the young man I was speaking of, who has large eyes, and fine black eyebrows.” At these words Schemseddin lost all patience, and put himself in a violent rage with his daughter. “Ah, foolish girl,” said he, “will you make me lose my senses, by relating such falsehoods?”—“It is you, father,” replied she, “who almost drive me out of my senses by your incredulity.”—“Is it not true then,” continued the vizier, “that the hunchback,—”—“Ah, let us talk no more of the hunchback,” interrupted she, “evil attend the hunchback! must I for ever hear nothing but the hunchback’s name repeated in my ears? I again tell you,” added she, “that he has not passed the night in my chamber; but my dear husband, whom I have mentioned to you, was the person, and indeed he cannot now be at any great distance from hence.”
Schemseddin Mohammed went out immediately to look for him; but instead of finding him, he was in the greatest astonishment at seeing the hunchback fellow standing on his head with his feet in the air, and in the very situation in which the Genius had left him. “What is the meaning of all this?” he asked him, “who placed you in that situation?” The hunchback, who instantly recognised the vizier, answered directly, “Ah, ha, you wish to give me in marriage to the mistress of a buffalo, do you; to one who is in love with a villainous Genius? but I won’t be your dupe, I promise you; so do not think of tricking me in that manner.”
Schemseddin Mohammed thought the hunchback was out of his senses, when he heard him talk in this manner. “Get away from hence,” he cried, “and stand upon your legs.”—“I will take good care how I do that,” answered he, “unless, indeed, the sun be risen. You must know, that as I was coming here yesterday evening, a large black cat suddenly appeared to me, and it kept increasing in size, till it was as large as a buffalo. I shall never forget what it said to me: mind therefore your own concerns, and leave me here.” Instead, however, of going, the vizier took hold of the hunchback by the legs, and obliged him to get up. He was no sooner on his legs than he ran away as fast as ever he could, without stopping once to look behind him. He went directly to the palace, and presented himself before the sultan of Egypt, who was highly diverted at the account he gave of the manner in which the Genius had treated him.
Schemseddin Mohammed then went back to his daughter’s apartment, still more astonished than before, and quite uncertain how to think or act, “Well, dishonoured girl,” said he to his daughter, “can you give me no farther account of this adventure, which both confuses and distracts me?”—“Sir,” she replied, “I cannot tell you any thing more than I have already had the honor of informing you of. But look here,” she added, “here is some part of my husband’s dress, which he has left on this chair, and perhaps this may throw some light upon what you wish to discover.” In saying this, she presented the turban of Bedreddin to the vizier, who took and examined it in every part. “I should conjecture this to be a turban that belonged to a vizier, if it were not made in the fashion of those [16] of Moussoul.” As he was thus feeling it, he thought he perceived something sewn up in the inside of it between the folds. He asked therefore for some scissors, and having unripped it, he discovered a paper folded up. This was in fact the packet which Noureddin Ali had given to his son Bedreddin, on his death-bed, and who had concealed it in this place, as the best method of preserving it. Schemseddin Mohammed having opened the packet, instantly knew the hand-writing of his brother Noureddin Ali, and read the following direction, For my son, Bedreddin Hassan. Before he had time to reflect on those circumstances, his daughter put the purse into her father’s hands, which she had found in Bedreddin’s pocket. He immediately opened it, and saw it filled with sequins, as I have before mentioned; for through the care of the Genius and fairy it constantly remained full, in spite of all the sums that Bedreddin had bestowed on those around him. Upon a sort of ticket, attached to the purse, he read these words; a thousand sequins belonging to the Jew Isaac. And under them the following, which the Jew had written before he had left Bedreddin: Delivered to Bedreddin Hassan, in payment for the cargo which he has sold me of the first vessel that arrives in port belonging to him; and which did belong to Noureddin Ali, his father, of happy memory. He had scarcely finished reading these words, when he uttered a loud cry, and fainted away.
When the vizier Schemseddin Mohammed was recovered from his fainting, by the assistance of his daughter, and the women she had called, “My daughter,” said he, “be not surprised at the accident which has just happened to me; the cause of it is such, that you will hardly give credit to it. The husband, who has passed the night with you, is no other than your cousin, the son of Noureddin Ali. The thousand sequins that are in this purse, remind me of the quarrel I had with my dear brother. This, without doubt, is the wedding present he makes you. God be praised for all these things, and particularly for this wonderful adventure, which so manifestly proves his power.” He then looked at the writing of his brother, and kissed it several times, bathing it with his tears. “Why cannot I,” said he, “see Noureddin himself here, and be reconciled to him, as well as I see his hand, which causes me so much joy?”
He read the packet through, and found the dates of his brother’s arrival at Balsora, of his marriage, and of the birth of Bedreddin Hassan; then comparing these dates with those of his own marriage, and of his daughter’s birth at Cairo, he could not help wondering at the coincidence; and reflecting, that his nephew was his son-in-law, he gave himself up entirely to the emotions of pleasure which all these circumstances gave rise to. He took the packet, and the ticket off the purse, and showed them to the sultan, who forgave what had past; and was so pleased with the history, that he ordered it to be written, that it might descend to posterity.