The Arabian Nights Entertainments, - [best autobiographies to read .txt] 📗
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Amene played and sung almost as long upon the same subject, but with so much vehemence, and was so much affected, or rather transported, by the words of the song, that her strength failed her as she finished.
Zobeide, desirous of testifying her satisfaction, said, “Sister, you have done wonders, and we may easily see that you feel the grief you have expressed in so lively a manner.” Amene was prevented from answering this civility, her heart being so sensibly touched at the moment, that she was obliged, for air, to uncover her neck and bosom, which did not appear so fair as might have been expected; but, on the contrary, were black and full of scars, which surprised and affected all the spectators. However, this gave her no ease, for she fell into a fit.
When Zobeide and Safie had run to help their sister, one of the calenders could not forbear saying, “We had better have slept in the streets than have come hither to behold such spectacles.” The caliph, who heard this, came to him and the other calenders, and asked them what might be the meaning of all this? They answered, “We know no more than you do.” “What,” said the caliph, “are you not of the family? Can you not resolve us concerning the two black bitches and the lady that fainted away, who appears to have been so basely abused?” “Sir,” said the calenders, “this is the first time of our being in the house; we came in but a few minutes before you.”
This increased the caliph’s astonishment: “Probably,” said he, “this man who is with you may know something of the matter.” One of the calenders beckoned the porter to come near; and asked him, whether he knew why those two black bitches had been whipped, and why Amene’s bosom was so scarred. “Sir,” said the porter, “I can swear by heaven, that if you know nothing of all this, I know as little as you do. It is true, I live in this city, but I never was in the house until now, and if you are surprised to see me I am as much so to find myself in your company; and that which increases my wonder is, that I have not seen one man with these ladies.”
The caliph and his company, as well as the calenders, had supposed the porter to be one of the family, and hoped he would have been able to give them the information they sought; but finding he could not, and resolving to satisfy his curiosity, the caliph said to the rest, “We are seven men, and have but three women to deal with; let us try if we can oblige them to explain what we have seen, and if they refuse by fair means, we are in a condition to compel them by force.”
The grand vizier Jaaffier objected to this, and shewed the caliph what might be the consequence. Without discovering the prince to the calenders, he addressed him as if he had been a merchant, and said, “Consider, I pray you, that our reputation is at stake. You know the conditions on which these ladies consented to receive us, and which we agreed to observe; what will they say of us if we break them? We shall be still more to blame, if any mischief befall us; for it is not likely that they would have extorted such a promise from us, without knowing themselves to be in a condition to punish us for its violation.”
Here the vizier took the caliph aside, and whispered to him, “The night will soon be at an end, and if your majesty will only be pleased to have so much patience, I will tomorrow morning bring these ladies before your throne, where you may be informed of all that you desire to know.” Though this advice was very judicious, the caliph rejected it, desired the vizier to hold his tongue, and said, he would not wait so long, but would immediately have his curiosity satisfied.
The next business was to settle who should carry the message. The caliph endeavoured to prevail with the calenders to speak first; but they excused themselves, and at last they agreed that the porter should be the man: as they were consulting how to word this fatal question, Zobeide returned from her sister Amene, who was recovered of her fit. She drew near them, and having overheard them speaking pretty loud, said, “Gentlemen, what is the subject of your conversation? What are you disputing about?”
The porter answered immediately, “Madam, these gentlemen beseech you to inform them why you wept over your two bitches after you had whipped them so severely, and how the bosom of that lady who lately fainted away came to be so full of scars? These are the questions I am ordered to ask in their name.”
At these words, Zobeide put on a stern countenance, and turning towards the caliph and the rest of the company, “Is it true, gentlemen,” said she, “that you desired him to ask me these questions?” All of them, except the vizier Jaaffier, who spoke not a word, answered, “Yes.” On which she exclaimed, in a tone that sufficiently expressed her resentment, “Before we granted you the favour of receiving you into our house, and to prevent all occasion of trouble from you, because we are alone, we imposed the condition that you should not speak of any thing that did not concern you, lest you might hear that which would not please you; and yet after having received and entertained you, you make no scruple to break your promise. It is true that our easy temper has occasioned this, but that shall not excuse your rudeness.” As she spoke these words, she gave three stamps with her foot, and clapping her hands as often together, cried, “Come quickly:” upon this, a door flew open, and seven black slaves rushed in; every one seized a man, threw him on the ground, and dragged him into the middle of the room, brandishing a cimeter over his head.
We may easily conceive the caliph then repented, but too late, that he had not taken the advice of his vizier, who, with Mesrour, the calenders and porter, was from his ill-timed curiosity on the point of forfeiting his life. Before they would strike the fatal blow, one of the slaves said to Zobeide, and her sisters: “High, mighty, and adorable mistresses, do you command us to strike off their heads?” “Stay,” said Zobeide, “I must examine them first.” The frightened porter interrupted her thus: “In the name of heaven, do not put me to death for another man’s crime. I am innocent; they are to blame.” “Alas!” said he, weeping, “how pleasantly did we pass our time! those blind calenders are the cause of this misfortune; there is no town in the world but suffers wherever these inauspicious fellows come.
Madam, I beg you not to destroy the innocent with the guilty, and consider, that it is more glorious to pardon such a wretch as I am, who have no way to help myself, than to sacrifice me to your resentment.”
Zobeide, notwithstanding her anger, could not but laugh within herself at the porter’s lamentation: but without replying to him, she spoke a second time to the rest; “Answer me, and say who you are, otherwise you shall not live one moment longer: I cannot believe you to be honest men, or persons of authority or distinction in your own countries; for if you were, you would have been more modest and more respectful to us.”
The caliph, naturally warm, was infinitely more indignant than the rest, to find his life depending upon the command of a woman: but he began to conceive some hopes, when he found she wished to know who they all were; for he imagined she would not put him to death, when informed of his quality; therefore he spoke with a low voice to the vizier, who was near him, to declare it speedily: but the vizier, more prudent, resolved to save his master’s honour, and not let the world know the affront he had brought upon himself by his own imprudence; and therefore answered, “We have what we deserve.” But if he had intended to speak as the caliph commanded him, Zobeide would not have allowed him time: for having turned to the calenders, and seeing them all blind with one eye, she asked if they were brothers. One of them answered, “No, madam, no otherwise than as we are calenders; that is to say, as we observe the same rules.” “Were you born blind of the right eye,” continued she? “No, madam,” answered he; “I lost my eye in such a surprising adventure, that it would be instructive to every body were it in writing: after that misfortune I shaved my beard and eyebrows, and took the habit of a calender which I now wear.”
Zobeide asked the other two calenders the same question, and had the same answers; but the last who spoke added, “Madam, to shew you that we are no common fellows, and that you may have some consideration for us, be pleased to know, that we are all three sons of sultans; and though we never met together till this evening, yet we have had time enough to make that known to one another; and I assure you that the sultans from whom we derive our being were famous in the world.”
At this discourse Zobeide suppressed her anger, and said to the slaves, “Give them their liberty a while, but remain where you are. Those who tell us their history, and the occasion of their coming, do them no hurt, let them go where they please; but do not spare those who refuse to give us that satisfaction.”
The three calendars, the caliph, the grand vizier, Jaaffier, the eunuch Mesrour, and the porter, were all in the middle of the hall, seated upon a carpet in the presence of the three ladies, who reclined upon a sofa, and the slaves stood ready to do whatever their mistresses should command.
The porter, understanding that he might extricate himself from danger by telling his history, spoke first, and said, “Madam, you know my history already, and the occasion of my coming hither; so that what I have to say will be very short. My lady, your sister, called me this morning at the place where I plyed as porter to see if any body would employ me, that I might get my bread; I followed her to a vintner’s, then to a herb-shop, then to one where oranges, lemons, and citrons were sold, then to a grocer’s, next to a confectioner’s, and a druggist’s, with my basket
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