The Arabian Nights Entertainments, - [best autobiographies to read .txt] 📗

answer but what was accompanied with reproaches and blows, of which I heard the noise. I could not endure to hear the pitiful cries of the princess so cruelly abused. I had already taken off the suit she had presented to me, and put on my own, which I had laid on the stairs the day before, when I came out of the bagnio: I made haste upstairs, the more distracted with sorrow and compassion, as I had been the cause of so great a misfortune; and by sacrificing the fairest princess on earth to the barbarity of a merciless genie, I was becoming the most criminal and ungrateful of mankind. “It is true,” said I, “she has been a prisoner these twenty-five years; but, liberty excepted she wanted nothing that could make her happy. My folly has put an end to her happiness, and brought upon her the cruelty of an unmerciful devil.” I let down the trapdoor, covered it again with earth, and returned to the city with a burden of wood, which I bound up without knowing what I did, so great was my trouble and sorrow.

My landlord, the tailor, was very much rejoiced to see me: “Your absence,” said he, “has disquieted me much, as you had entrusted me with the secret of your birth, and I knew not what to think; I was afraid somebody had discovered you; God be praised for your return.” I thanked him for his zeal and affection, but not a word durst I say of what had passed, nor of the reason why I came back without my hatchet and cords.

I retired to my chamber, where I reproached myself a thousand times for my excessive imprudence: “Nothing,” said I, “could have paralleled the princess’s good fortune and mine, had I forborne to break the talisman.”

While I was thus giving myself over to melancholy thoughts, the tailor came in and said, “An old man, whom I do not know, brings your hatchet and cords, which he found in his way as he tells me, and says he understood from your comrades that you lodge here; come out and speak to him, for he will deliver them to none but yourself.”

At these words I changed colour, and fell a trembling. While the tailor was asking me the reason, my chamber-door opened, and the old man, having no patience to stay, appeared to us with my hatchet and cords. This was the genie, the ravisher of the fair princess of the isle of Ebene, who had thus disguised himself, after he had treated her with the utmost barbarity. “I am a genie,” said he, speaking to me, “son of the daughter of Eblis, prince of genies: is not this your hatchet, and are not these your cords?”

After the genie had put the question to me, he gave me no time to answer, nor was it in my power, so much had his terrible aspect disordered me. He grasped me by the middle, dragged me out of the chamber, and mounting into the air, carried me up to the skies with such swiftness, that I was not able to take notice of the way he conveyed me. He descended again in like manner to the earth, which on a sudden he caused to open with a stroke of his foot, and sunk down at once, when I found myself in the enchanted palace, before the fair princess of the isle of Ebene. But, alas!

what a spectacle was there! I saw what pierced me to the heart; this poor princess was quite naked, weltering in her blood, and laid upon the ground, more like one dead than alive, with her cheeks bathed in tears.

“Perfidious wretch!” said the genie to her, pointing at me, “is not this your gallant?” She cast her languishing eyes upon me, and answered mournfully, “I do not know him, I never saw him till this moment.” “What!” said the genie, “he is the cause of thy being in the condition thou art justly in; and yet darest thou say thou cost not know him?” “If I do not know him,” said the princess, “would you have me lie on purpose to ruin him?” “Oh then,” said the genie, pulling out a cimeter and presenting it to the princess, “if you never saw him before, take this, and cut off his head.” “Alas,” replied the princess, “how is it possible that I should execute such an act? My strength is so far spent that I cannot lift up my arm; and if I could, how should I have the heart to take away the life of an innocent man, and one whom I do not know?” “This refusal,” said the genie to the princess, “sufficiently informs me of your crime.” Upon which, turning to me, “And thou,” said he, “dost thou not know her?”

I should have been the most ungrateful wretch, and the most perfidious of all mankind, if I had not strewn myself as faithful to the princess as she had been to me, who had been the cause of her misfortunes. I therefore answered the genie, “How should I know her, when I never saw her till now?” “If it be so,” said he, “take the cimeter and cut off her head: on this condition I will set thee at liberty, for then I shall be convinced that thou hast never seen her till this moment, as thou gayest.” “With all my heart,” replied I, and took the cimeter in my hand.

Do not think, madam, that I drew near to the fair princess of the isle of Ebene to be the executioner of the genie’s barbarity. I did it only to demonstrate by my behaviour, as much as possible, that as she had strewn her resolution to sacrifice her life for my sake, I would not refuse to sacrifice mine for hers. The princess, notwithstanding her pain and suffering, understood my meaning; which she signified by an obliging look, and made me understand her willingness to die for me; and that she was satisfied to see how ready I was also to die for her. Upon this I stepped back, and threw the cimeter on the ground. “I should for ever,” said I to the genie, “be hateful to all mankind were I to be so base as to murder, not only a person whom I do not know, but a lady like this, who is already on the point of expiring: do with me what you please, since I am in your power; I cannot obey your barbarous commands.”

“I see,” said the genie, “that you both out-brave me, and insult my jealousy; but both of you shall know by my treatment of you of what I am capable.” At these words the monster took up the cimeter and cut off one of her hands, which left her only so much life as to give me a token with the other that she bade me for ever adieu. For the blood she had lost before, and that which gushed out then, did not permit her to live above one or two moments after this barbarous cruelty; the sight of which threw me into a fit. When I was come to myself again, I expostulated with the genie, why he made me languish in expectation of death: “Strike,” cried I, “for I am ready to receive the mortal blow, and expect it as the greatest favour you can show me.” But instead of agreeing to that, “Behold,” said he, “how genies treat their wives whom they suspect of unfaithfulness; she has received thee here, and were I certain that she had put any further affront upon me, I would put thee to death this minute: but I will content myself with transforming thee into a dog, ape, lion, or bird; take thy choice of any of these, I will leave it to thyself.”

These words gave me some hopes of being able to appease him: “O

genie,” said I, “moderate your passion, and since you will not take away my life, give it me generously. I shall always remember your clemency, if you pardon me, as one of the best men in the world pardoned one of his neighbours that bore him a mortal hatred. The genie asked me what had passed between those two neighbours, and said, he would have patience till he heard the story, which I related to him; and I believe, madam, you will not be displeased if I now repeat it.

The Story of the Envious Man, and of him that he Envied.

In a considerable town two persons dwelt in adjoining houses. One of them conceived such a violent hatred against the other, that the hated party resolved to remove to a distance, being persuaded that their being neighbours was the only cause of this animosity; for though he had done him several pieces of service, he found that his hatred was not diminished; he therefore sold his house, with what goods he had left, and retired to the capital city of a kingdom which was not far distant. Here he bought a little spot of ground, which lay about half a league from the city; where he had a convenient house, with a garden, and a pretty spacious court, wherein there was a deep well, which was not in use.

The honest man having made this purchase put on a dervise’s habit, intending to lead a retired life, and caused several cells to be made in the house, where in a short time he established a numerous society of dervises. He soon came to be publicly known by his virtue, through which he acquired the esteem of many people, as well of the commonalty as of the chief of the city. In short, he was much honoured and courted by all ranks. People came from afar to recommend themselves to his prayers; and all who visited him, published what blessings they received through his means.

The great reputation of this honest man having spread to the town from whence he had come, it touched the envious man so much to the quick, that he left his house and affairs with a resolution to ruin him. With this intent he went to the new convent of dervises, of which his former neighbour was the head, who received him with all imaginable tokens of friendship. The envious man told him that he was come on purpose to communicate a business of importance, which he could not do but in private; and “that nobody may hear us, let us,” said he, “take a walk in your court; and seeing night begins to draw on, command your dervises to retire to their cells.” The chief of the dervises did as he was required.

When the envious man saw that he was alone with this good man, he began to tell him his errand, walking side by side in the court, till he saw his opportunity; and getting the good man near the brink of the well, he gave him a thrust, and pushed him into it, without being seen by any one. Having done thus, he returned, got out at the gate of the convent without being known, and reached his own house well satisfied with his journey, being fully persuaded that the object of his hatred was no more; but he found himself mistaken.

This old well was inhabited by fairies and genies, which happened luckily for the relief of the head of the convent; for they received and supported him, and carried him to the bottom, so that he got no hurt. He perceived that there was something extraordinary in his fall, which must otherwise have cost him his life; but he neither saw nor felt anything. He soon heard a voice, however, which said, “Do you know what honest man this is, to whom we