Margiana had felt a predilection for Assad from the first moment she cast her eyes on him; and she was delighted to hear that he was a slave. Determined, therefore, to purchase him at whatever price, she asked Assad his name. “Great queen,” replied he, with tears in his eyes, “Does your majesty wish to know the name I formerly bore, or that by which I am now called?”
“What, have you two names?” inquired the queen. “Alas!” resumed the prince, “I have indeed; I was formerly called Assad, or the most happy, but my name now is Motar, or one destined for sacrifice.”
Margiana, who could not understand the true meaning of this reply, supposed he applied it to his present state of slavery; and at the same time discovered he had a ready wit. “As you are a secretary,” said she afterwards, “I conclude you can write very well; let me see some of your writing.” Assad, who was provided with an ink-horn, which was fastened to his girdle, and some paper, for Behram had not forgotten these circumstances, the better to persuade the queen that he was in reality what she believed him to be, withdrew to a little distance, and wrote the following sentences, which bore some relation to his miserable condition.
“The blind man avoids the ditch into which the clear-sighted stumbles. The ignorant man elevates himself to the highest dignities by speeches which signify nothing; while the wise man remains neglected as the dust, though possessed of the greatest eloquence. The mussulman is in the deepest misery, notwithstanding his riches, but the infidel triumphs in the midst of his prosperity. We must not hope that things will change; the Almighty decrees that they should remain in their present state.”
Assad presented the paper to queen Margiana, who did not bestow less commendation on the morality of the sentences, than on the beauty of the writing; in short, nothing more was requisite to inflame her heart and make her feel unfeigned compassion for the unfortunate youth. She had no sooner finished reading it, than she addressed herself to Behram; “Choose which you will do,” said she, “either sell me this slave or give him to me; perhaps you may find it most to your advantage to do the latter.” Behram replied, in a very insolent manner, that he had no choice to make, for that he wanted his slave and should therefore keep him.
Margiana, irritated by this behaviour, said no more to Behram, but taking Assad by the arm, made him walk before her, till they reached the palace, when she sent to acquaint Behram, that she should confiscate all his property, and set fire to his vessel in the middle of the harbour if he attempted to pass the night there. He was obliged to return to his vessel truly mortified; and, to prepare with the utmost diligence for sailing, although the tempest had not entirely subsided.
The queen having, on her return to the palace, ordered supper to be instantly served, conducted prince Assad to her apartment, where she made him sit next her. Assad wished to decline it, saying that so great an honor was not to be conferred on a slave. “On a slave!” exclaimed the queen, “a moment since and you were one, but you are now no longer a slave. Sit down next me, I tell you, and relate your history to me; for I am certain, by what you wrote just now, as well as by the insolence of that merchant, that it must be very extraordinary.”
Prince Assad obeyed; and when he was seated, “Most powerful queen,” said he, “your majesty is not mistaken; my history is indeed extraordinary, and more so perhaps than you can imagine. The grief, the almost inconceivable torments I have undergone, and the cruel species of death to which I was destined, and from which you have delivered me with truly royal generosity, will convince you of the magnitude of your kind office, which will be indelibly impressed on my memory. But before I enter on this detail, which can only excite horror, you must permit me to begin from the earliest date of my misfortunes.”
After this preface, which very much increased the curiosity of Margiana, Assad began by acquainting her of his royal birth, together with that of his brother, prince Amgiad, of their reciprocal friendship, of the odious passion conceived for them by their mothers-in-law, which so suddenly changed into an implacable hatred, and thus became the origin of their singular adventures. He then told her of the anger of the king, his father, of the almost miraculous manner in which their lives had been preserved, and lastly, of the irreparable loss he had sustained in his brother, and the long and cruel imprisonment he was but just relieved from, only to be immolated on the fiery mountain.
When Assad had finished his relation, Margiana, more than ever irritated against the idolaters of fire, said to him, “Prince, notwithstanding the aversion I have always felt against the worshippers of fire, I have nevertheless conducted myself with great humanity towards them; but after the barbarous treatment you have experienced from them, and their execrable design of sacrificing you as a victim to the object of their idolatory, I henceforth declare implacable war against them.” She would have indulged her invectives still further on this subject, had not supper been served; and she sat down to table with prince Assad, charmed with his presence, and delighted to hear him; being already prejudiced in his favor by a rising flame, which she purposed to take an early opportunity of disclosing to him. “Prince,” said she, “you must now make up for all the fasting and bad meals which the pitiless worshippers of fire obliged you to endure. You want nourishment after so many sufferings.” Saying these and other words of the same nature, she helped him repeatedly both to eat and drink; the repast lasted a considerable time, and Assad drank some glasses more than he could well bear. When the table was cleared, Assad wished to breathe the fresh air, and took the opportunity of going out when the queen did not perceive him. He went down into the court, and seeing the gate of the garden open he entered it. Attracted by the various beauties of the spot, he walked about for some time. He at length went towards a fountain, which formed one of the principal ornaments of the garden, and washed his hands and face in it to refresh himself; then sitting down to rest himself on the lawn which bordered it, he insensibly fell asleep.