The heart of the lover’s racked with weariness and care, For his
reason ravished is for one who is passing fair.
It was asked me, “What is the taste of love?” I answer made,
“Love is sweet water, wherein are torment and despair.”
Thereupon Cout el Culoub arose and pressed him to her bosom and kissed him, for love of him mastered her heart, so that she discovered to him her secret and the passion that possessed her and throwing her arms about his neck, embraced him; but he held off from her, for fear of the Khalif. Then they talked awhile (and indeed they were both drowned in the sea of mutual love) till day, when Ghanim rose and going to the market as usual, took what was needful and returned home. He found her in tears; but when she saw him, she ceased weeping and smiled and said, ‘Thou hast made me desolate, O beloved of my heart! By Allah, the hour that thou hast been absent from me has been to me as a year! I have let thee see how it is with me for the excess of my passion for thee; so come now, leave what has been and take thy will of me.’ ‘God forbid that this should be!’ replied he. ‘How shall the dog sit in the lion’s place? Verily, that which is the master’s is forbidden to the slave.’ And he withdrew from her and sat down on a corner of the mat. Her passion increased with his refusal; so she sat down beside him and caroused and sported with him, till they were both warm with wine, and she was mad for dishonour with him. Then she sang the following verses:
The heart of the slave of passion is all but broken in twain: How
long shall this rigour last and this coldness of disdain?
O thou that turnest away from me, in default of sin, Rather to
turn towards than away should gazelles be fain!
Aversion and distance eternal and rigour and disdain; How can
youthful lover these hardships all sustain?
Thereupon Ghanim wept and she wept because he did, and they ceased not to drink till nightfall, when he rose and spread two beds, each in its place. ‘For whom is the second bed?’ asked she. ‘One is for me and the other for thee,’ answered he. ‘Henceforth we must lie apart, for that which is the master’s is forbidden to the slave.’ ‘O my lord,’ exclaimed she, ‘let us leave this, for all things happen according to fate and predestination.’ But he refused, and the fire was loosed in her heart and she clung to him and said, ‘By Allah, we will not sleep but together!’ ‘God forbid!’ answered he, and he prevailed against her and lay apart till the morning, whilst love and longing and distraction redoubled on her. They abode thus three whole months, and whenever she made advances to him, he held aloof from her, saying, ‘Whatever belongs to the master is forbidden to the slave.’ Then, when this was prolonged upon her and affliction and anguish grew on her, for the weariness of her heart she recited the following verses:
O marvel of beauty, how long this disdain? And who hath provoked
thee to turn from my pain?
All manner of elegance in thee is found And all fashions of
fairness thy form doth contain.
The hearts of all mortals thou stir’st with desire And on
everyone’s lids thou mak’st sleeplessness reign.
I know that the branch has been plucked before thee; So, O
capparis-branch, thou dost wrong, it is plain.
I used erst to capture myself the wild deer. How comes it the
chase doth the hunter enchain?
But the strangest of all that is told of thee is, I was snared,
and thou heard’st not the voice of my pain.
Yet grant not my prayer. If I’m jealous for thee Of thyself how
much more of myself? Nor again,
As long as life lasteth in me, will I say, “O marvel of beauty,
how long this disdain?”’
Meanwhile, the Lady Zubeideh, when, in the absence of the Khalif, she had done this thing with Cout el Culoub, abode perplexed and said to herself, ‘What answer shall I make the Khalif, when he comes back and asks for her?’ Then she called an old woman, who was with her, and discovered her secret to her, saying, ‘What shall I do, seeing that Cout el Culoub is no more?’ ‘O my lady,’ replied the old woman, ‘the time of the Khalif’s return is at hand; but do thou send for a carpenter and bid him make a figure of wood in the shape of a corpse. We will dig a grave for it and bury it in the middle of the palace: then do thou build an oratory over it and set therein lighted lamps and candles and command all in the palace to put on mourning. Moreover, do thou bid thy slave-girls and eunuchs, as soon as they know of the Khalif’s approach, spread straw in the vestibules, and when the Khalif enters and asks what is the matter, let them say, “Cout el Culoub is dead, may God abundantly replace her to thee! and for the honour in which she was held of our mistress, she hath buried her in her own palace.” When the Khalif hears this, it will be grievous to him and he will weep: then will he cause recitations of the Koran to be made over her and will watch by night over her tomb. If he should say to himself, “My cousin Zubeideh has compassed the death of Cout el Culoub out of jealousy,” or if love-longing should master him and he order to take her forth of the tomb, fear thou not; for when they dig and come to the figure, he will see it as it were a human body, shrouded in costly grave-clothes; and if he desire to take off the swathings, do thou forbid him and say to him, “It is unlawful to look upon her nakedness.” The fear of the world to come will restrain him and he will believe that she is dead and will cause the image to be restored to its place and thank thee for what thou hast done: and so, if it please God, thou shalt be delivered from this strait.’ Her advice commended itself to Zubeideh, who bestowed on her a dress of honour and a sum of money, bidding her do as she had said. So she at once ordered a carpenter to make the aforesaid figure, and as soon as it was finished, she brought it to Zubeideh, who shrouded it and buried it and built a pavilion over it, in which she set lighted lamps and candles and spread carpets round the tomb. Moreover, she put on black and ordered her household to do the same, and the news was spread abroad in the palace that Cout el Culoub was dead. After awhile, the Khalif returned from his journey and entered the palace, thinking only of Cout el Culoub. He saw all the pages and damsels and eunuchs in mourning, at which his heart quaked; and when he went in to the Lady Zubeideh, he found her also clad in black. So he asked the cause of this and was told that Cout el Culoub was dead, whereupon he fell down in a swoon. As soon as he came to himself, he enquired of her tomb, and Zubeideh said to him, ‘Know, O Commander of the Faithful, that for the honour in which I held her, I have buried her in my own palace.’ Then he repaired to her tomb, in his travelling dress, and found the place spread with carpets and lit with lamps. When he saw this, he thanked Zubeldeh for what she had done and abode perplexed, halting between belief and distrust, till at last suspicion got the better of him and he ordered the grave to be opened and the body exhumed. When he saw the figure and would have taken off the swathings to look upon the body, the fear of God the Most High restrained him, and the old woman (taking advantage of his hesitation) said, ‘Restore her to her place.’ Then he sent at once for readers and doctors of the Law and caused recitations of the Koran to be made over her grave and sat by it, weeping, till he lost his senses. He continued to frequent the tomb for a whole month, at the end of which time, he chanced one day, after the Divan had broken up and his Amirs and Viziers had gone away to their houses, to enter the harem, where he laid down and slept awhile, whilst one damsel sat at his head, fanning him, and another at his feet, rubbing them. Presently he awoke and opening his eyes, shut them again and heard the damsel at his head say to her at his feet, ‘Hist, Kheizuran!’ ‘Well, Kezib el Ban?’ answered the other. ‘Verily,’ said the first, ‘our lord knows not what has passed and watches over a tomb in which there is only a carved wooden figure, of the carpenter’s handiwork.’ ‘Then what is become of Cout el Culoub?’ enquired the other. ‘Know,’ replied Kezib el Ban. ‘that the Lady Zubeideh bribed one of her waiting-women to drug her with henbane and laying h
er in a chest, commanded Sewab and Kafour to take it and bury it among the tombs.’ Quoth Kheizuran, ‘And is not the lady Cout el Culoub dead?’ ‘No,’ replied the other; ‘God preserve her youth from death! but I have heard the Lady Zubeideh say that she is with a young merchant of Damascus, by name Ghanim ben Eyoub, and has been with him these four months, whilst this our lord is weeping and watching anights over an empty tomb.’ When the Khalif heard the girls’ talk and knew that the tomb was a trick and a fraud and that Cout el Culoub had been with Ghanim ben Eyoub for four months, he was sore enraged and rising up, summoned his officers of state, whereupon the Vizier Jaafer the Barmecide came up and kissed the earth before him, and the Khalif said to him, ‘O Jaafer, take a company of men with thee and fall upon the house of Ghanim ben Eyoub and bring him to me, with my slave-girl Cout el Culoub, for I will assuredly punish him!’ ‘I hear and obey,’ answered Jaafer, and setting out with his guards and the chief of the police, repaired to Ghanim’s house. Now the latter had brought home a pot of meat and was about to put forth his hand to eat of it, he and Cout d Culoub, when the damsel, happening to look out, found the house beset on all sides by the Vizier and the chief of the police and their officers and attendants, with drawn swords in their hands, encompassing the place, as the white of the eye encompasses the black. At this sight, she knew that news of her had reached the Khalif, her master, and made sure of ruin, and her colour paled and her beauty changed. Then she turned to Ghanim and said to him, ‘O my love, fly for thy life!’ ‘What shall I do?’ said he; ‘and whither shall I go, seeing that my substance and fortune are in this house?’ ‘Delay not,’ answered she, ‘lest thou lose both life and goods.’ ‘O my beloved and light of my eyes,’ rejoined he, ‘how shall I do to get away, when they have surrounded the house?’ ‘Fear not,’ said she: and taking off his clothes, made him put on old and ragged ones, after which she took the empty pot and put in it a piece of bread and a saucer of meat, and placing the whole in a basket, set it on his head and said, ‘Go out in this guise and fear not for me, for I know how to deal with the Khalif.’ So he went out amongst them, carrying the basket and its contents, and God covered him with His protection and he escaped the snares and perils that beset him, thanks to the purity of his intent. Meanwhile, Jaafer alighted and entering the house, saw Cout el Culoub, who had dressed and decked herself after the richest fashion and filled a chest with gold and jewellery and precious stones and rarities and what else was light of carriage and great of value. When she saw Jaafer, she rose and kissing the earth before him, said, ‘O my lord, the pen hath written from of old that which God hath decreed.’ ‘By Allah, O my lady,’ rejoined Jaafer, ‘I am commanded to seize Ghanim ben Eyoub.’ ‘O my lord,’ replied she, ‘he made ready merchandise and set out therewith for Damascus and I know nothing more of him; but I desire thee to take charge of this chest and deliver it to me in the palace of the Commander of the Faithful.’ ‘I hear and obey,’ said Jaafer, and bade his men carry the chest to the palace, together with Cout el Culoub, commanding them to use her with honour and consideration. And they did his bidding, after they had plundered Ghanim’s house. Then Jaafer went in to the Khalif and told him what had happened, and he bade lodge Cout el Culoub in a dark chamber and appointed an old woman to serve her, thinking no otherwise than that Ghanim had certainly debauched her and lain with her. Then he wrote a letter to the Amir Mohammed ben Suleiman ez Zeini, the viceroy of Damascus, to the following purport, ‘As soon as this letter reaches thee, lay hands on Ghanim ben Eyoub and send him to me.’ When the letter came to the viceroy, he kissed it and laid it on his head, then caused proclamation to be made in the streets of Damascus, ‘Whoso is minded to plunder, let him betake himself to the house of Ghanim ben Eyoub!’ So they repaired to the house, where they found that Ghanim’s mother and sister had made him a tomb midmost the house and sat by it, weeping for him, whereupon they seized them, without telling them the cause, and carried them before the Sultan, after having plundered the house. The viceroy questioned them of Ghanim, and they replied, ‘This year or more we have had no news of him.’ So they restored them to their place.
Meanwhile Ghanim, finding himself despoiled of his wealth and considering his case, wept till his heart was well-nigh broken. Then he fared on at random, till the end of the day, and hunger was sore on him and he was worn out with fatigue. Coming to a village, he entered a mosque, where he sat down on a mat, leaning his back against the wall, and presently sank to the ground, in extremity for hunger and weariness, and lay there till morning, his heart fluttering for want of food. By reason of his sweating, vermin coursed over his skin, his breath grew fetid and he became in sorry case. When the people of the town came to pray the morning-prayer, they found him lying there, sick and weak with hunger, yet showing signs of gentle breeding. As soon as they had done their devotions, they came up to him and finding him cold and starving, threw over him an old mantle with ragged sleeves and said to him, ‘O stranger, whence art thou and what ails thee?’ He opened his eyes and wept, but made them no answer; whereupon, one of them, seeing that he was starving, brought him a saucerful of honey and two cakes of bread. So he ate a little and they sat with him till sunrise, when they went about their occupations. He abode with them in this state for a month, whilst sickness and infirmity increased upon him, and they wept for him and pitying his condition, took counsel together of his case and agreed to send him to the hospital at Baghdad. Meanwhile, there came into the mosque two beggar women, who were none other than Ghanim’s mother and sister; and when he saw them, he gave them the bread that was at his head and they slept by his side that night, but he knew them not. Next day the villagers fetched a camel and said to the driver, ‘Put this sick man on thy camel and carry him to Baghdad and set him down at the door of the hospital, so haply he may be medicined and recover his health, and God will reward thee.’ ‘I hear and obey,’ said the camel-driver. So they brought Ghanim, who was asleep, out of the mosque and laid him, mat and all, on the back of the camel; and his mother and sister came out with the rest of the people to look on him, but knew him not. However, after considering him, they said, ‘Verily, he favours our Ghanim! Can this sick man be he?’ Presently, he awoke and finding himself bound with ropes on the back of a camel, began to weep and complain, and the people of the village saw his mother and sister weeping over him, though they knew him not. Then they set out for Baghdad, whither the camel-driver forewent them and setting Ghanim down at the door of the hospital, went away. He lay there till morning, and when the people began to go about the ways, they saw him and stood gazing on him, for indeed he was become as thin as a skewer, till the syndic of the market came up and drove them away, saying, ‘I will gain Paradise through this poor fellow; for if they take him into the hospital, they will kill him in one day.’ Then he made his servants carry him to his own house, where he spread him a new bed, with a new pillow, and said to his wife, ‘Tend him faithfully.’ ‘Good,’ answered she; ‘on my head be it!’ Then she tucked up her sleeves and heating some water, washed his hands and feet and body, after which she clothed him in a gown belonging to one of her slave-girls and gave him a cup of wine to drink and sprinkled rose-water over him. So he revived and moaned, as he thought of his beloved Cout el Culoub! and sorrows were sore upon him.
One Thousand and One Nights Page 194