“The room being cleared, she seated herself near my pillow. ‘My son,’ said she, ‘you have hitherto persisted in concealing the cause of your illness; nor do I require you to confess it; I have sufficient experience to penetrate into this secret, and I am sure you will not disown what I am going to declare. It is love which occasions your indisposition. I can probably assist your cure, provided you will tell me who is the happy lady that has been able to wound a heart so insensible as yours; for you have the reputation of not liking the ladies, and I have not been the last to perceive it; however, what I foresaw is at last come to pass, and I shall be delighted if I can be of any service in releasing you from your pain.’
“The old lady having finished this speech, waited to hear my answer; but although it had made a strong impression on me, I did not dare to open my heart to her. I only turned towards her, and uttered a deep sigh, without saying a word. ‘Is it shame,’ continued she, ‘that prevents you from speaking, or is it want of confidence in my power to relieve you? Can you doubt the effects of my promise? I could mention to you an infinite number of young people of your acquaintance, who have endured the same pain that you do; and for whom I have obtained consolation.’
“In short, the good lady said so many things to me, that at length I broke silence, and declared to her the cause of my pain. I acquainted her with the place where I had seen the object that had given birth to it; and related all the circumstances of the adventure. ‘If you succeed,’ continued I, ‘and procure me the happiness of seeing this enchanting beauty, and of expressing to her the passion with which I burn, you may rely on my gratitude.’—‘My son,’ replied the old lady, ‘I know the person you mention; she is, as you justly suppose, the daughter of the principal cadi in this city. I am not surprised that you should love her; she is the most beautiful, as well as most amiable lady in Bagdad; but what grieves me is, she is very haughty, and difficult of access. You know, that many of our officers of justice are very exact, in making women observe the harsh laws which subject them to so irksome a restraint; they are still more strict in their own families, and the cadi you saw is himself alone more rigid on this point than all the others put together. As they are continually preaching to their daughters the enormity of the crime of showing themselves to men, the poor things are in general so cautious of being guilty of it, that, when necessity obliges them to walk in the streets, they make no use of their eyes, but to guide them on their way; I do not say, that this is absolutely the case with the daughter of the principal cadi; yet I am much afraid of having as great obstacles to overcome on her side, as on her father’s. Would to Heaven you loved any other lady! I should not have so many difficulties, as I foresee, to surmount. I will nevertheless employ all my address; but it will require time to succeed. At any rate take courage, and place confidence in me.’
“The old lady left me, and as I reflected with anxiety on all the obstacles she had represented to me, the fear that she would not succeed possessed me, and increased my disease. She returned the following day, and I soon read in her countenance, that she had no favourable intelligence to announce. She said, ‘My son, I was not mistaken; I have more to surmount than merely the vigilance of a father; you love an insensible object, who delights in letting those burn with unrequited passion, who suffer themselves to be charmed with her beauty; she will not allow them the least relief; she listened to me with pleasure, whilst I talked to her only of the pain she made you suffer; but no sooner did I open my mouth, to persuade her to allow you an interview, than she cast an angry look at me, and said, ‘You are very insolent to attempt to make such a proposition; and I desire you will never see me more, if it be only to hold such conversations as this!
“‘But let not that afflict you,’ continued the old lady, ‘I am not easily discouraged, and provided you do not lose your patience, I hope at last to accomplish my design.’ Not to protract my narration (said the young man) I will only say, that this good messenger made several fruitless attempts in my favor, with the haughty enemy of my peace. The vexation I endured, increased my disorder to such a degree, that the physicians gave me over. I was, therefore, considered as a man who was at the point at death, when the old lady came to give me new life.
“That no one might hear her, she whispered in my ear; ‘Think of the present you will make me for the good news I bring you.’ These words produced a wonderful effect; I raised myself in my bed, and replied with transport, ‘The present will not be deficient; what have you to tell me?’—‘My dear sir,’ resumed she, ‘you will not die this time, and I shall soon have the pleasure of seeing you in perfect health, and well satisfied with me; yesterday being Monday, I went to the lady you are in love with, and found her in very good humour; I at first put on a mournful countenance, uttered an abundance of sighs, and shed some tears. ‘My good mother,’ said she, ‘what is the matter? Why are you in such affliction?’—‘Alas! my dear and honorable lady,’ replied I, ‘I am just come from the young gentleman I spoke to you of the other day; it is all over with him; he is at the point of death, and all for love of you; it is a great pity, I assure you, and you are very cruel.’—‘I do not know,’ said she, ‘why you should accuse me of being the cause of his death: how can I have contributed to his illness?’—‘How?’ replied I, ‘did I not tell you, that he seated himself before your window, just as you opened it to water your flowers? He beheld this prodigy of beauty, these charms, which your mirror reflects every day; from that moment he has languished for you, and his disease is so augmented, that he is now reduced to the pitiable state I have had the honor of describing to you. You may remember, madam,’ continued I, ‘how rigorously you treated me lately, when I was going to tell you of his illness, and propose to you a method of relieving him from his dangerous condition; I returned to him after I left you, and he no sooner perceived, from my countenance, that I did not bring a favorable account, than his malady redoubled its violence. From that time, madam, he has been in the most imminent danger of death; and I do not know, whether you could now save his life, even if you were inclined to take pity on him.’
“‘This was what I said to her,’ added the old lady. ‘The fear of your death staggered her, and I saw her face change colour. ‘Is what you say to me quite true,’ said she, ‘and does his illness proceed only from his love of me?’—‘Ah, madam,’ replied I, ‘it is but too true: would to heaven it were false!’—‘And do you really think,’ resumed she, ‘that the hope of seeing and speaking to me could contribute to diminish the peril of his situation?’—‘It very likely may,’ said I, ‘and if you desire me, I will try this remedy.’—‘Well then,’ replied she, sighing, ‘let him hope that he may see me; but he must not expect any other favors, unless he aspires to marry me, and my father gives his consent!’—‘Madam,’ said I, ‘you are very good; I will go directly to this young gentleman, and announce to him, that he will have the pleasure of seeing and conversing with you.’—‘I do not know,’ said she, ‘that I can fix a more convenient time to do him this favor than on Friday next, during the mid-day prayer. Let him observe when my father goes out to attend at the mosque; and then let him come immediately before this house, if he is well enough to go abroad. I shall see him arrive, from my window, and will come down to let him in. We will converse together while the prayer lasts, and he will retire before my father returns.’
“‘This is Tuesday,’ continued the old lady, ‘between this and Friday you will be sufficiently recovered to encounter this interview.’ Whilst the good lady was talking, I felt my disorder diminish, or rather by the time she had concluded her discourse, I found myself quite recovered. ‘Take this,’ said I, giving her my purse, which was quite full, ‘to you alone I owe my cure; I think this money better employed than all I have given to the physicians, who have done nothing but torment me during my illness.’
“The lady having left me, I found myself sufficiently strong to get up. My relations, delighted to see me so much better, congratulated me on my recovery, and took their leave.
“Friday morning being arrived, the old lady came whilst I was dressing, and making choice of the handsomest dress my wardrobe contained. ‘I do not ask you,’ said she, ‘how you find yourself; the occupation you are engaged in sufficiently convinces me of what I am to think; but will not you bathe before you go to the principal cadi’s?’—‘That would take up too much time,’ replied I, ‘I shall content myself with sending for a barber to shave my head and beard.’ I then ordered one of my slaves to seek one who was expert in his business, as well as expeditious.