Quoth I to myself, "Verily, if the owner of this voice be fair, she unites beauty of person and eloquence and sweetness of voice." Then I drew near the door, and raising the curtain little by little, beheld a damsel, white as the moon, when it rises on its fourteenth night, with joined eyebrows and languorous eyelids, breasts like twin pomegranates and dainty lips like twin corn-marigolds,[FN#28] mouth as it were Solomon's seal and teeth that sported with the reason of rhymester and proser, even as saith the poet:
O mouth of the beloved, who set thy pearls arow And eke with
wine fulfilled thee and camomiles like show,
And lent the morning-glory unto thy smile, and who Hath with a
padlock sealed thee of rubies sweet of show?
Whoso but looks upon thee is mad for joy and pride. How should
it fare with him, who kisseth thee, heigho!
And as saith another:
O pearls of the teeth of my love, Have ruth on cornelian and spare To vie with it! Shall it not find You peerless and passing compare?
In fine, she comprised all manner of loveliness and was a ravishment to men and women, nor could the beholder satisfy himself with the sight of her beauty; for she was as the poet hath said of her:
If, face to face, she do appear, unveiled, she slays; and if
She turn her back, she makes all men her lovers far and
near.
Like the full moon and eke the sun she is, but cruelty And
inhumanity belong not to her nature dear.
The garden-gates of Paradise are opened with her shift And the
full moon revolveth still upon her neck-rings' sphere.
As I looked at her through the opening of the curtains, she turned and seeing me standing at the door, said to her maid, "See who stands at the door." So the maid came up to me and said, "O old man, hast thou no shame, or do gray hairs and impudence go together?" "O my mistress," answered I, "I confess to the gray hairs, but as for unmannerliness, I think not to be guilty of it." "And what can be more unmannerly," rejoined her mistress, "than to intrude thyself upon a house other than thy house and gaze on a harem other than thy harem?" "O my lady," said I, "I have an excuse." "And what is thine excuse?" asked she. Quoth I, "I am a stranger and well-nigh dead of thirst." "We accept thine excuse," answered she and calling one of her maids, said to her, "O Lutf, give him to drink in the golden tankard."
So she brought me a tankard of red gold, set with pearls and jewels, full of water mingled with odoriferous musk and covered with a napkin of green silk; and I addressed myself to drink and was long about it, casting stolen glances at her the while, till I could prolong it no longer. Then I returned the tankard to the maid, but did not offer to go; and she said to me, "O old man, go thy way." "O my lady," replied I, "I am troubled in mind." "For what?" asked she; and I answered, "For the uncertainty of fortune and the vicissitudes of events." "Well mayst thou be troubled thereanent," replied she, "for Time[FN#29] is the mother of wonders. But what hast thou seen of them that thou shouldst muse upon?" Quoth I, "I was thinking of the former owner of this house, for he was my good friend in his lifetime." "What was his name?" asked she. "Mohammed ben Ali the Jeweller," answered I; "and he was a man of great wealth. Did he leave any children?" "Yes," said she; "he left a daughter, Budour by name, who inherited all his wealth." Quoth I, "Meseems thou art his daughter?" "Yes," answered she, laughing; then added, "O old man, thou hast talked long enough; go thy ways." "Needs must I go," replied I; "but I see thou art out of health. Tell me thy case; it may be God will give thee solace at my hands." "O old man," rejoined she, "if thou be a man of discretion, I will discover to thee my secret; but first tell me who thou art, that I may know whether thou art worthy of confidence or not; for the poet saith:
None keepeth secrets but the man who's trusty and discreet: A
secret's ever safely placed with honest fold and leal;
For me, my secrets I preserve within a locked-up house, Whose
key is lost and on whose door is set the Cadi's seal."
"O my lady," answered I, "an thou wouldst know who I am, I am Ali ben Mensour of Damascus, the Wag, boon-companion to the Khalif Haroun er Reshid." When she heard my name she came down from her seat and saluting me, said, "Welcome, O Ibn Mensour! Now will I tell thee my case and entrust thee with my secret. Know that I am a lover separated from her beloved." "O my lady," rejoined I, "thou art fair and shouldst love none but the fair. Whom then dost thou love?" Quoth she, "I love Jubeir ben Umeir es Sheibani, Prince of the Benou Sheiban;"[FN#30] and she described to me a young man than whom there was none handsomer in Bassora. "O my lady," asked I, "have letters or interviews passed between you?" "Yes," answered she; "but his love for me was of the tongue, not of the heart; for he kept not his covenant nor was faithful to his troth." "And what was the cause of your separation?" asked I.