Short Fiction, Ivan Bunin [reading women .TXT] 📗

They wanted to test the prophet, but he understood, and answered them unwaveringly:

“Goodly is the glory of those that merit glory. But that which has earned diminution, must be diminished. For even the most glorious of men would rejoice only in the true measure of glory.”

Thereupon the angels, struck by the wisdom of the prophet, did exclaim, as they arose from their places:

“Truly, God Himself shall console thee! We can but bow down before thee.”

They were dark, and they were standing in a dark tent. But their eyes shone, and the prophet beheld the starry radiance of their eyes. They retreated into the night, like shades, barely stooping at the doorway of the tent. As for the prophet, he remained alone in the midst of the night and the desert, lying upon the earth. And when the sun had arisen from behind the craggy mountains, and it grew light and hot within the tent, the prophet, feeling a great longing to rest amid coolness, did forsake his couch, and did bend his steps toward a vale in the mountains, seeking shade. But there was none even in the vale by now. However, in the inmost recesses of one mountain he came upon a cavern. And behold, two captives were hacking away with sharp picks at the entrance into this cavern. The stones at the entrance were as white as the snow upon mountain-tops, and were hot from the sun. And the black hair of the copper-faced captives, as well as the cloths about their loins, were wet with perspiration. But two fresh fruits, two apples, were lying upon a stone near the cavern, while in the cavern itself it was dark and cool. And the labourers, lowering their picks, spake, saying:

“We greet thee, lord and chieftain, in the name of God, the Merciful, the Compassionate. Lo, we have finished our labour.”

And the prophet asked them:

“Who are ye, and what were ye doing?”

To which they did answer:

“We were preparing a treasure-chamber for the king. Enter, look about thee, and rest from thy journey and the heat. Refresh thy lips with the fruits, and tell us which is the sweeter and riper one.”

And, having entered the cavern, the prophet did sit down upon a stone couch nigh one of its walls, and did feel the shade and the coolness. And, having bitten of the first fruit, he spake:

“Verily, this is life itself: I am drinking water from a spring, I scent the pleasant odours of the flowers of the fields, and I feel the taste of aspen honey. I am vigorous, and I am strong.”

And, having bitten of the second, he exclaimed:

“Verily, there is nothing to compare with this: I am drinking the wines of paradise, sealed with a seal of musk, blended with the water of a wellspring that quencheth the thirst of those who draw nigh to The Eternal. I scent the fragrance of a celestial garden, and feel the taste of the honey of its flowers⁠—nor hath this honey any bitter tang. And lo, a blessed drowsiness befogs my head. Awake me not, O ye captives, till that my time be fulfilled.”

And the captives⁠—they were angels, the captives of God⁠—quietly went on, as his speech died away:

“Till that the sun,” uttered the first, reading the Sura, the Canticle, of the Great Tidings⁠—“till that the sun be bent, till that the stars rain down from the sky, and the mountains remove from their place, and the she-camels be abandoned, and the seas do boil up.⁠ ⁠…”

“I am S’in,” uttered the second, reading the Sura for the Departing. “Glory be to Him that reigneth over all the universe! Ye all shall return to Him!⁠ ⁠…”

And, hearing their whispers, but without catching their words, the prophet did lie down upon the couch, and did repose in the sleep of death, knowing not thereof. And the angels did wall up the entrance to the sepulchral cavern, and did depart to the Master Who had sent them. And the prophet was joined to his people, having had his fill of days, and without perceiving the end thereof. Never a man, even to this day, has yet contemplated his tomb in the mountains of Moab. But his wisdom is imprinted in the memory of all peoples, and is recorded in Heaven in Ghilliun, the Book Eternal.

The Sheikh Saadi⁠—may his name be blessed!⁠—the Sheikh Saadi⁠—many of his pearls have we strung side by side with our own, upon the string of a good style!⁠—hath told us of a man who had tasted the bliss of drawing nigh The Beloved. This man had been lost in contemplation; but when he had come back to the everyday world, he was asked with a kindly mockery: “But where are the flowers from the garden of your reverie?” And the man made answer: “I desired to bring back the whole skirt of my coat full of roses for my friends; but, when I had drawn nigh the rosebush, I was so intoxicated by its fragrance that I did release it out of my hands.”

Let him that can connect the story of the poet with our own.

Peace and joy be the portion of all that dwell upon this earth!

My life has been a well-spent one; I got everything I went after. I even own real property⁠—my little old man right after the wedding signed the house over in my name; and I keep horses, and two cows, and we have a business all our own. Of course, not a regular shop, now, but just a little store, as they say⁠—but then, in our village, it will pass. I always was successful, but then I have a persistent character, at that.

As to all sorts of work, it was still my daddy that learned me. Though he was a widower, and took to drink, he wasn’t far behind me in being awful smart, businesslike, and heartless. When the serfs was freed, now, he