The caliph in the evening entered Schemselnihar’s palace to the sound of instruments, which were touched by the females belonging to the Favorite, when a collation was instantly served up. The caliph took Schemselnihar by the hand, and made her sit near him upon a sofa. To comply with this action had such a violent effect upon her feelings, that in a few moments after we saw her expire. She was in fact hardly seated, before she fell backwards. The caliph thought that she had only fainted, nor had we at first any other idea. We gave her every assistance in our power; but she never breathed again. This then was the manner in which we suffered our great loss.
“The caliph honored her with his tears, which he was unable to restrain; and before he retired to his apartment he gave orders that all the musical instruments should be absolutely destroyed, which was accordingly done. I remained near the body the whole night, and both washed and prepared it for burial with my own hands, almost bathing it with my tears. It was the next day interred, by the command of the caliph, in a magnificent tomb, which he had before ordered to be built in a spot that Schemselnihar had herself chosen. And since,” added the slave, “you have told me the body of the prince of Persia is to be brought to Bagdad, I am determined that it shall be placed in the same tomb with that of the Favorite.”
The jeweller was very much astonished at this resolution of the confidant. “You do not surely recollect,” said he, “that the caliph will never suffer it.”—“You may believe the thing impossible,” replied she, “but I assure you, it is not. And you will agree with me, when I have informed you that the caliph has given their freedom to all the slaves that belonged to Schemselnihar, with a pension to each of them sufficient to support themselves; and that he has moreover appointed me to take care of, and watch her tomb, with a considerable salary both for its repair and my subsistence. Besides, the caliph, who is not ignorant of the mutual attachment of Schemselnihar and the prince of Persia, as I have already told you, and who is not now offended or hurt at it, will never have any objection to it.” In answer to this, the jeweller had nothing to say; he only requested the confidant to conduct him to the tomb, that he might offer up his prayers there. When he arrived, he was greatly surprised at seeing a crowd of people of both sexes, who had collected there from all parts of Bagdad. He could not even get near it; and could only pray at some distance. When he had finished his prayers, he said to the confidant in a satisfactory tone of voice, “I do not now think it impossible to accomplish what you so properly planned. We have only to make known the various facts we are acquainted with, concerning the Favorite and the prince of Persia, and particularly the death of the latter, which took place almost at the same instant with that of Schemselnihar.” Before his body arrived, all Bagdad agreed in demanding, that they should not be separated in the grave. The scheme succeeded, and on the day in which it was known the body would arrive, a multitude of people went out even twenty miles to meet it.”
The confidant waited at the gate of the city, where she presented herself before the mother of the prince of Persia, and requested her in the name of all the inhabitants, who so ardently desired it, to allow the bodies of the two lovers, whose hearts formed but one, from the commencement of their attachment to the last moment of their lives, to be united in one tomb. The lady agreed to it; and the body was carried to the tomb of Schemselnihar, an immense number of people of all ranks following it; and then placed by her side. From that time all the inhabitants of Bagdad, and even strangers from all parts of the world, where mussulmen are known, have never ceased from feeling a great veneration for that tomb, and going to offer up their prayers at its foot.
“This, sire,” said Scheherazadè in this place, “is what I had to relate to your majesty concerning the amours of the beautiful Schemselnihar, the Favorite of the caliph Haroun Alraschid, and the amiable Ali Ebn Becar, prince of Persia.”
When Dinarzadè perceived the sultana, her sister, had concluded her speech, she thanked her most kindly for the pleasure she had afforded her by the recital of so interesting a history: “If the sultan,” replied Scheherazadè, “would suffer me to live till to-morrow, I would relate to him the history of prince Camaralzaman, [14] which he would find still more agreeable.” She was then silent; and Schahriar, who could not yet determine to give orders for her death, deferred it, in order to listen to the new story, which the sultana began to relate, on the following night.
THE HISTORY
OF THE AMOURS OF CAMARALZAMAN, PRINCE OF THE ISLE OF THE CHILDREN OF KHALEDAN, AND OF BADOURA, PRINCESS OF CHINA.
About twenty days sail from the coast of Persia, sire, there is, in the open sea, an island, which is called the Isle of the Children of Khaledan. This island is divided into several large provinces, with many large flourishing and well-peopled towns scattered over them, and forms altogether a very powerful kingdom. It was formerly governed by a king, named Schahzaman, who had four wives, as was the custom; all daughters of kings, and sixty concubines.
Schahzaman esteemed himself the happiest sovereign on the whole face of the earth, on account of the tranquillity and prosperity of his reign. One thing alone affected his happiness; he was already far advanced in years, and he had no children, notwithstanding he had so great a number of wives. He could not account in any way for this circumstance; and in the moments of his affliction he considered it as the greatest misfortune that could befal him, to die without leaving a successor to the throne, who was descended from him. He, for a considerable time, concealed the tormenting anxiety that preyed upon him; and he suffered so much the more as he endeavoured to assume an air of cheerfulness. At length he broke silence; and one day having complained of his misfortune in the bitterest terms of sorrow, in a private conversation he had with his grand vizier, he asked him if he knew of any means to remedy so great an evil.