The khoja, obedient man, did his best to follow instructions, and a very dishevelled Seyyid succeeded in escaping into the street.
Khoja[112] Nazr-ed-din is a sort of Oriental Joe Miller, upon whom any story can be fathered, from Stamboul to Kandahar. But how completely the “Arabian Nights” atmosphere survives in Urmi to this day may be judged from the following story, which was told to us as a true one,[{210}] and which the narrator at any rate believed implicitly. Let us call it,
The Story of Haji Kas, and how his own Son bought him
There lived of late in the city of Urmi a Seyyid of the Seyyids, whose name was Haji Kas. And he was a rich man and a powerful, who had thrice performed the Pilgrimage to Mecca; and who was a friend to the governor and the kadi, and had in repute among the mollahs and imaums.
Now it is said by the Poet (upon whom be peace), “if thy neighbour hath made the Pilgrimage once, beware of him; if twice remove into the next street.” And Haji Kas had three times made the Pilgrimage. Wherefore all men feared him greatly, for he regarded neither God nor man.
Now there was a certain householder in the city who had a garden which Haji Kas coveted; and forasmuch as he would not sell, Haji Kas reviled him and persecuted him, and brought false accusation against him before the kadi in the courts of law. So that householder went to his house sorrowful and sore vexed; and sat him down in an inner chamber, and ate not, and covered his face.
Howbeit that householder had a wife, and she was a fair woman and a wise; and when she saw her husband sorrowing, she said unto him, “What aileth thee, O my lord, that thou eatest nothing and art sad?” And he answered, “Because of Haji Kas the Seyyid; for he seeketh to take from me my garden, and hath brought false accusation against me; and moreover the kadi hath eaten bribes at his hand.” And the woman laughed, and said, “Truly, thou doest ill to fret thyself for such a matter. Leave Haji Kas to me. I will give thee vengeance on Haji Kas.”
So the woman arose in the morning, and donned her fairest raiment, and perfumed herself with musk, and painted her eyes with kohl; and she took her veil, and went forth, and came to the street where Haji Kas dwelt. And as the Seyyid passed by, she drew aside her veil and ogled him, and said, “O Moslem, canst thou tell me the dwelling-place of Haji Kas?” And Haji Kas answered, “I am he. What wouldst thou with me?” And she drew aside her veil[{211}] further, and smiled, and said, “Thy servant is a woman of Teheran,[113] and married to a man of Urmi. And my husband hath gone on a journey, and hath sent me a writing of divorcement. And behold my neighbours said unto me, ‘Seek not advice of any in this matter, save only of the upright Haji Kas.’”
(The narrator dwelt on the flirtation lovingly, and at great length, but here we are obliged to curtail it.)
Then Haji Kas lighted down from his horse, and took her by the hand and said, “O my lady of beauty, verily in this matter thy neighbours counselled thee well.” But the woman drew away from him, and veiled herself, and answered, “It is not meet that we talk together in the street at this time. Come to my house at sundown, and I will give thee welcome; and there shalt thou instruct me in all that it behoves me to do.”