Upon this, Enees-el-Jelees looked towards the sheykh, and said to him, O sheykh Ibráheem, see how this man hath treated me.—O my mistress, said he, what aileth him? She rejoined, Always doth he treat me thus: he drinketh a while, and then sleepeth, and I remain alone, and find no one to keep me company over my cup. If I drink, who will serve me? And if I sing, who will hear me?—The sheykh, moved with tenderness and affection for her by her words, replied, It is not proper that a cup-companion be thus. The damsel then filled a cup, and, looking at the sheykh Ibráheem, said to him, I conjure thee, by my life that thou take it and drink it; reject it not, but accept it, and refresh my heart. So he stretched forth his hand, and took the cup, and drank it; and she filled for him a second time, and handed it to him, saying, O my master, this remaineth for thee. He replied, By Allah, I cannot drink it: that which I have drunk is enough for me. But she said, By Allah, it is indispensable:—and he took the cup, and drank it. She then gave him the third; and he took it, and was about to drink it, when, lo, Noor-ed-Deen raised himself, and said to him, O sheykh Ibráheem, what is this? Did I not conjure thee a while ago, and thou refusedst, and saidst, Verily, for thirteen years I have not done it?—The sheykh Ibráheem, touched with shame, replied, By Allah, I am not in fault; for she pressed me. And Noor-ed-Deen laughed, and they resumed their carousal, and the damsel, turning her eyes towards her master, said to him, O my master, drink thou, and do not urge the sheykh Ibráheem; that I may divert thee with the sight of him. So she began to fill and to hand to her master, and her master filled and gave to her, and thus they continued to do, time after time; till at length the sheykh Ibráheem looked towards them and said, What meaneth this? And what sort of carousal is this? Wherefore do ye not give me to drink, since I have become your cup-companion?—At this they both laughed until they became almost senseless; and then drank, and gave him to drink; and they continued thus until the expiration of a third of the night, when the damsel said, O sheykh Ibráheem, with thy permission shall I rise and light one of the candles which are arranged here?—Rise, he answered; but light not more than one candle. But she sprang upon her feet, and, beginning with the first candle, proceeded until she had lighted eighty. She then sat down again; and presently Noor-ed-Deen said, O sheykh Ibráheem, in what favour am I held with thee? Wilt thou not allow me to light one of these lamps?—The sheykh answered, Arise, and light one lamp, and be not thou also troublesome. So he arose, and, beginning with the first lamp, lighted all the eighty; and the saloon seemed to dance. And after this, the sheykh Ibráheem, overcome by intoxication, said to them, Ye are more frolicksome than I:—and he sprang upon his feet, and opened all the windows, and sat down again with them, and they continued carousing and reciting verses; and the place rang with their merriment.
Now God, the All-seeing and All-knowing, who hath appointed a cause to every event, had decreed that the Khaleefeh should be sitting that night at one of the windows looking towards the Tigris, by moonlight; and he looked in that direction, and saw the light of lamps and candles reflected in the river, and, turning his eyes up towards the palace in the garden, he beheld it beaming with those candles and lamps, and exclaimed, Bring hither to me Jaạfar El-Barmekee! In the twinkling of an eye, Jaạfar stood before the Prince of the Faithful; and the Khaleefeh said to him, O dog of Wezeers, dost thou serve me and not acquaint me with what happeneth in the city of Baghdád?—What, asked Jaạfar, is the occasion of these words? The Khaleefeh answered, If the city of Baghdád were not taken from me, the Palace of Diversion were not enlivened with the light of the lamps and candles, and its windows were not opened. Wo to thee! Who could do these things unless the office of Khaleefeh were taken from me?—Who, said Jaạfar (the muscles of his side quivering from fear), informed thee that the lamps and candles were lighted in the Palace of Diversion, and that its windows were opened? The Khaleefeh replied, Advance hither to me, and look. So Jaạfar approached the Khaleefeh, and, looking towards the garden, beheld the palace as it were a flame of fire, its light surpassing that of the moon. He desired, therefore, to make an excuse for the sheykh Ibráheem, the superintendent, thinking, from what he beheld, that the event might have occurred through his permission: and accordingly he said, O Prince of the Faithful, the sheykh Ibráheem last week said to me, O my master Jaạfar, I am desirous of entertaining my children during my life and the life of the Prince of the Faithful.—And what, said I, is thy design in saying this? He answered, It is my wish that thou wouldst obtain for me permission from the Khaleefeh that I may celebrate the circumcision of my sons in the palace. So I said, Do what thou wilt with respect to the entertainment of thy sons, and, if God will, I shall have an interview with the Khaleefeh, and will acquaint him with it. And he left me thus; and I forgot to acquaint thee.—O Jaạfar, said the Khaleefeh, thou wast guilty of one offence against me, and then thine offence became two: for thou hast erred in two points: the first, thy not acquainting me with this affair; and the second, thy not accomplishing the desire of the sheykh Ibráheem; for he did not come to thee and address thee with these words but to hint a request for some money by the aid of which to effect his design, and thou neither gavest him anything nor acquaintedst me that I might give him.—O Prince of the Faithful, replied Jaạfar, I forgot.
The Khaleefeh then said, By my forefathers, I will not pass the remainder of my night but with him, for he is a just man, who frequenteth the sheykhs,[26] and attendeth to the poor, and favoureth the indigent; and I imagine all his acquaintances are with him this night; so I must repair to him: perhaps one of them may offer up for us a prayer productive of good to us in this world and the next; and probably some advantage may accrue to him from my presence, and he will receive pleasure from this, together with his friends.—O Prince of the Faithful, replied Jaạfar, the greater part of the night hath passed, and they are now about to disperse. But the Khaleefeh said, We must go to them. And Jaạfar was silent, and was perplexed in his mind, not knowing what to do. So the Khaleefeh rose upon his feet, and Jaạfar rose and preceded him, and Mesroor the eunuch went with them. The three walked on reflecting, and, departing from the palace, proceeded through the streets, in the attire of merchants; until they arrived at the gate of the garden above mentioned; and the Khaleefeh, approaching it, found it open; and he was surprised, and said, See, O Jaạfar, how the sheykh Ibráheem hath left the gate open until this hour, which is not his usual custom. They then entered, and came to the end of the garden, where they stopped beneath the palace; and the Khaleefeh said, O Jaạfar, I desire to take a view of them secretly before I go up to them, that I may see how the sheykhs are occupied in the dispensing of their blessings and the employment of their miraculous powers; for they have qualities which distinguish them both in their private retirements and in their public exercises; and now we hear not their voices, nor discover any indication of their presence. Having thus said, he looked around, and, seeing a tall walnut tree, he said, O Jaạfar, I would climb this tree (for its branches are near to the windows) and look at them. And accordingly he ascended the tree, and climbed from branch to branch until he came to that which was opposite to one of the windows, and there he sat, and, looking in through this window of the palace, beheld a damsel and a young man, like two moons (extolled be the perfection of Him who created them!); and he saw the sheykh Ibráheem sitting with a cup in his hand, and saying, O mistress of beauties, drinking unaccompanied by merry sounds is not pleasant. Hast thou not heard the saying of the poet?—
Circulate it in the large cup, and in the small; and receive it from the hand of the shining moon:[27] And drink not without merry sounds; for I have observed that horses drink to the sound of whistling.
When the Khaleefeh witnessed this conduct of the sheykh Ibráheem, the vein of anger swelled between his eyes, and he descended, and said, O Jaạfar, I have never seen anything of the miraculous performances of the just such as I have beheld this night: ascend, therefore, thyself also, into this tree, and look, lest the blessings of the just escape thee.[28]—On hearing the words of the Prince of the Faithful, Jaạfar was perplexed at his situation; and he climbed up into the tree, and looked, and saw Noor-ed-Deen and the sheykh Ibráheem and the damsel, and the sheykh Ibráheem had the cup in his hand. As soon as he beheld this, he made sure of destruction; and he descended, and stood before the Prince of the Faithful, and the Khaleefeh said, O Jaạfar, praise be to God who hath made us to be of the number of those who follow the external ordinances of the holy law, and averted from us the sin of disguising ourselves by the practice of hypocrisy! But Jaạfar was unable to reply, from his excessive confusion. The Khaleefeh then looked towards him, and said, Who can have brought these persons hither, and admitted them into my palace? But the like of this young man and this damsel, in beauty and loveliness and symmetry of form, mine eye hath never beheld.—Jaạfar, now conceiving a hope that the Khaleefeh might be propitiated, replied, Thou hast spoken truly, O Prince of the Faithful. And the Khaleefeh said, O Jaạfar, climb up with us upon this branch which is opposite them, that we may amuse ourselves by observing them. So they both climbed up into the tree, and, looking at them, heard the sheykh Ibráheem say, O my mistress, I have relinquished decorum by the drinking of wine; but the pleasure of this is not complete without the melodious sounds of stringed instruments.—O sheykh Ibráheem, replied Enees-el-Jelees, by Allah, if we had any musical instrument, our happiness were perfect. And when the sheykh Ibráheem heard her words, he rose upon his feet.—The Khaleefeh said to Jaạfar, What may he be going to do? Jaạfar replied, I know not.—And the sheykh Ibráheem went away, and returned with a lute; and the Khaleefeh, looking attentively at it, saw that it was the lute of Is-ḥáḳ, the cup-companion; and said, By Allah, if this damsel sing not well, I will crucify you all; but if she sing well, I will pardon them, and crucify thee. So Jaạfar said, O Allah, let her not sing well!—Why? asked the Khaleefeh.—That thou mayest crucify all of us, answered Jaạfar; and then we shall cheer one another by conversation. And the Khaleefeh laughed: and the damsel took the lute, and tuned its strings, and played upon it in a manner that would melt iron, and inspire an idiot with intellect; after which she sang with such sweetness that the Khaleefeh exclaimed, O Jaạfar, never in my life have I heard so enchanting a voice as this!—Perhaps, said Jaạfar, the anger of the Khaleefeh hath departed from him?—Yea, he answered; it hath departed. He then descended with Jaạfar from the tree, and, looking towards him, said, I am desirous of going up to them, to sit with them, and to hear the damsel sing before me.—O Prince of the Faithful, replied Jaạfar, if thou go up to them, probably they will be troubled by thy presence; and as to the sheykh Ibráheem, he will assuredly die of fear. The Khaleefeh therefore said, O Jaạfar, thou must acquaint me with some stratagem by means of which I may learn the truth of the affair without their knowing that I have discovered them. And he and Jaạfar walked towards the Tigris, reflecting upon this matter; and lo, a fisherman stood beneath the windows of the palace, and he threw his net, hoping to catch something by means of which to obtain his subsistence.—Now the Khaleefeh had, on a former occasion, called to the sheykh Ibráheem, and said to him, What was that noise that I heard beneath the windows of the palace?—and he answered, The voices of the fishermen, who are fishing:—so he said, Go down and forbid them from coming to this place. They were therefore forbidden to come thither; but this night there came a fisherman named Kereem, and, seeing the garden-gate open, he said within himself, This is a time of inadvertence, and perhaps I may catch some fish on this occasion:—so he took his net, and threw it into the river, and then recited some verses, contrasting the condition of the poor fisherman, toiling throughout the night, with that of the lord of the palace, who, awaking from a pleasant slumber, findeth the fawn in his possession; and as soon as he had finished his recitation, lo, the Khaleefeh, unattended, stood at his head. The Khaleefeh knew him, and exclaimed, O Kereem!—and the fisherman, hearing him call him by his name, turned towards him; and when he beheld the Khaleefeh, the muscles of his side quivered, and he said, By Allah, O Prince of the Faithful, I did not this in mockery of the mandate; but poverty and the wants of my family impelled me to the act of which thou art witness. The Khaleefeh replied, Throw thy net for my luck. And the fisherman advanced, rejoicing exceedingly, and cast the net, and, having waited until it had attained its limit and become steady at the bottom, drew it in again, and there came up in it a variety of fish that could not be numbered.