One Thousand and One Nights

by Richard Burton

  “What is it, madam?” said the young man much surprised; “why this sudden grief? Have I said or done any thing to cause your tears to flow? Speak, I implore you; inform me of the cause of your sorrow.”

  “Oh, Mahomet!” exclaimed Balkis, “I can dissimulate no longer; the part I am acting is insupportable. I have deceived you, Aboulcassem; I am a lady of rank. My father, who knows you have a hidden treasure, wishes me to discover where you have concealed it. He has ordered me to come here and spare no means to induce you to show it me. I refused to do so, but he has sworn to kill me if I return without being able to satisfy his curiosity. What an unhappy fate is mine! If I was not beloved by a prince who will soon marry me, this cruel vow of my father’s would not appear so terrible.”

  When the daughter of Aboulfatah had thus spoken, Aboulcassem said to her, “Madam, I am very glad you have informed me of this. You will not repent your noble frankness; you shall see my treasure, and be treated with all the respect you may desire. Do not weep, therefore, or any longer afflict yourself.”

  “Ah, my lord,” exclaimed Balkis at this speech, “it is not without reason that you pass for the most generous of men. I am charmed with your noble conduct, and shall not be satisfied until I have found means to testify my gratitude.”

  After this conversation Aboulcassem conducted the lady to the same chamber that the caliph had occupied, where they remained until all was quiet in the dwelling. Then blindfolding the eyes of Balkis he said, “Pardon me, madam, for being obliged to act thus, but it is only on this condition that I can show you my treasure.”

  “Do what you please, my lord,” answered Balkis; “I have so much confidence in your generosity that I will follow wherever you desire; I have no fear but that of not sufficiently repaying your kindness.”

  Aboulcassem then took her by the hand, and causing her to descend to the garden by the winding stairs, he entered the cavern and removed the bandage from her eyes. If the caliph had been surprised to see such heaps of gold and precious stones, Balkis was still more so. Every thing she saw astonished her. But the objects that most attracted her attention were the ancient owners of the treasure. As the queen had on a necklace composed of pearls as large as pigeons’ eggs, Balkis could not avoid expressing her admiration. Aboulcassem detached it from the neck of the princess, and placed it round that of the young lady, saying her father would judge from this that she had seen the treasure; he then, after much persuasion, made her take a large quantity of precious stones which he himself chose for her.

  The young man then, fearing the day would dawn whilst she was looking at the wonders of the cavern, again placed the bandage over her eyes, and conducted her to a saloon where they conversed together until sunrise. Balkis then took leave, repeatedly assuring the son of Abdelaziz that she would never forget his generous conduct.

  She hastened to her father’s and informed him of all that had passed. The vizir had been impatiently awaiting his daughter’s return. Fearing she might not be sufficiently able to charm Aboulcassem, he remained in a state of inconceivable agitation. But when he saw her enter with the necklace and precious stones that Aboulcassem had given her, he was transported with joy.

  “Well, my daughter,” he said, “have you seen the treasure?”

  “Yes, my lord,” answered Balkis, “and to give you a just idea of its magnitude, I tell you that if all the kings of the world were to unite their riches, they could not be compared to those of Aboulcassem. But still, however vast this young man’s treasures, I am less charmed with them than with his politeness and generosity.” And she then related to her father the whole of her adventure.

  In the mean time Haroun-al-Raschid was advancing towards Bagdad. As soon as he arrived at his palace he set his chief vizir at liberty, and restored him to his confidence. He then proceeded to relate to him the events of his journey, and ended by asking, “Giafar, what shall I do? You know the gratitude of monarchs ought to surpass the pleasures they have received. If I should send the magnificent Aboulcassem the choicest and most precious treasure I possess, it will be but a slight gift, far inferior to the presents he has made me. How then can I surpass him in generosity?”

  “My lord,” replied the vizir, “since your majesty condescends to consult me, I should write this day to the king of Basra and order him to commit the government of the state to the young Aboulcassem. We can soon despatch the courier, and in a few days I will depart myself to Basra and present the patents to the new king.”

  The caliph approved of this advice. “You are right,” he said to his minister, “it will be the only means of acquitting myself towards Aboulcassem, and of taking vengeance on the king of Basra and his unworthy vizir, who have concealed from me the considerable sums they have extorted from this young man. It is but just to punish them for their violence against him; they are unworthy of the situations they occupy.”

  He immediately wrote to the king of Basra and despatched the courier. He then went to the apartment of the princess Zobeide to inform her of the success of his journey, and presented her with the little page, the tree, and the peacock. He also gave her a beautiful female slave. Zobeide found this slave so charming that she smilingly told the caliph she accepted this gift with more pleasure than all his other presents. The prince kept only the cup for himself; the vizir Giafar had all the rest; and this good minister, as he had before resolved, made preparations for his departure from Bagdad.

  The courier of the caliph no sooner arrived in the town of Basra than he hastened to present his despatch to the king, who was greatly concerned on reading it. The prince showed it to his vizir. “Aboulfatah,” said he, “see the fatal order that I have received from the commander of the faithful. Can I refuse to obey it?”

  “Yes, my lord,” answered the minister; “do not afflict yourself. Aboulcassem must be removed from hence. Without taking his life I will make every one believe he is dead. I can keep him so well concealed that he shall never be seen again; and by this means you will always remain on the throne and possess the riches of this young man; for when we are masters of his person we can increase his sufferings until he is obliged to reveal where his treasure is concealed.”

  “Do what you like,” replied the king; “but what answer shall we send the caliph?”

  “Leave that to me. The commander of the faithful will be deceived as well as others. Let me execute the design I meditate, and the rest need cause you no uneasiness.”

  Aboulfatah then, accompanied by some courtiers who were ignorant of his intention, went to pay a visit to Aboulcassem. He received them according to their rank, regaled them magnificently, seated the vizir in the place of honour, and loaded him with presents without having the least suspicion of his perfidy. Whilst they were at table and partaking of the most delicious wines, the treacherous Aboulfatah skilfully threw unperceived into the cup of the son of Abdelaziz a powder which would render him insensible, and cause his body to remain in a state of lethargy resembling that of a corpse long deprived of life. The young man had no sooner taken the cup from his lips than he fainted away. His servants hastened to support him, but soon perceiving he had all the appearance of a dead man, they placed him on a sofa and uttered the most lamentable cries. The guests, struck with sudden terror, were silent from astonishment. As for Aboulfatah, it is impossible to say how well he dissimulated. He not only feigned the most immoderate grief, but tore his clothes and excited the rest of the company to follow his example. He ordered a coffin to be made of ivory and ebony, and while they were preparing it, he collected all the effects of Aboulcassem and placed them in the king’s palace. The account of the young man’s death soon spread abroad. All persons, men and women, put on mourning, and came to the door of the house, their heads and feet bare; old and young men, women and girls, were bathed in tears, filling the air with their cries and lamentations. Some said they had lost in him an only son, others a brother or a husband tenderly beloved. Rich and poor were equally afflicted at his death; the rich m
ourned a friend who had always welcomed them, and the poor a benefactor whose charity had never been equalled. His death caused a general consternation.

  Meanwhile the unhappy Aboulcassem was enclosed in the coffin, and a procession having been formed, the people, by order of Aboulfatah, carried him out of the town to a large cemetery containing a number of tombs, and amongst others a magnificent one where reposed the vizir’s father and many others of his family. They placed the coffin in this tomb, and the perfidious Aboulfatah, leaning his head on his knees, beat his breast, and gave way apparently to the most violent grief. Those present pitied and prayed heaven to console him. As night approached the people returned to the town, but the vizir remained with two of his slaves in the tomb, the door of which he shut and double locked. They lit a fire, warmed some water in a silver basin, and taking Aboulcassem from the coffin, bathed him with the warm water. The young man by degrees regained his senses. He cast his eyes on Aboulfatah, whom he at once recognized. “Ah, my lord,” said he, “where are we, and to what state am I reduced?”

  “Wretch!” answered the minister, “know that it is I who have caused your misfortune. I brought you here to have you in my power, and to make you suffer a thousand torments if you will not discover to me your treasure. I will rack your body with tortures — will invent each day new sufferings to render life insupportable: in a word, I will never cease to persecute you until you deliver me those hidden treasures which enable you to live with even more magnificence than kings.”

  “You can do what you please,” replied Aboulcassem; “I will never reveal my treasure.”

  He had scarcely uttered these words, when the cruel Aboulfatah, making his slaves seize the unfortunate son of Abdelaziz, drew from his robe a whip made of twisted lion’s skin, with which he struck so long and with such violence that the young man fainted. When the vizir saw him in this state, he commanded the slaves to replace him in the coffin, and leaving him in the tomb, which he firmly secured, returned to his palace.

  On the morrow he went to inform the king of what he had done. “Sire,” said he, “I tried yesterday, but in vain, to overcome the firmness of Aboulcassem; however, I have now prepared torments for him which I think he cannot resist.”

  The prince, who was quite as barbarous as his minister, said, “Vizir, I am perfectly satisfied with all you have done. Ere long, I hope, we shall know where this treasure is concealed. But we must send back the courier without delay. What shall I write to the caliph?”

  “Tell him, my lord, that Aboulcassem, hearing he was to occupy your place, was so enchanted, and made such great rejoicings, that he died suddenly at a feast.”

  The king approved of this advice, and writing immediately to Haroun-al-Raschid, despatched the courier. The vizir, flattering himself that he should at length be able to force Aboulcassem to reveal his treasure, left the town, resolving to extract the secret or leave him to perish. But on arriving at the tomb, he was surprised to find the door open. He entered trembling, and not seeing the son of Abdelaziz in the coffin, he nearly lost his senses. Returning instantly to the palace, he related to the king what had occurred. The monarch, seized with a mortal terror, exclaimed, “Oh, Waschi! what will become of us? Since this young man has escaped, we are lost. He will not fail to hasten to Bagdad, and acquaint the caliph with all that has taken place.”

  Aboulfatah, on his part, in despair that the victim of his avarice was no longer in his power, said to the king his master, “What would I now give to have taken his life yesterday! He would not then have caused us such uneasiness. But we will not quite despair yet; if he has taken flight, as no doubt he has, he cannot be very far from here. Let me take some soldiers of your guard, and search in all the environs of the town; I hope still to find him.”

  The king instantly consented to so important a step. He assembled all his soldiers, and dividing them into two bodies, gave the command of one to his vizir, and placing himself at the head of the other, prepared with his troops to search in all parts of his kingdom.

  Whilst they were seeking Aboulcassem in the villages, woods, and mountains, the vizir Giafar, who was already on the road to Basra, met the courier returning, who said to him, “My lord, it is useless for you to proceed further, if Aboulcassem is the sole cause of your journey, for this young man is dead; his funeral took place some days past; my eyes were witnesses of the mournful ceremony.”

  Giafar, who had looked forward with pleasure to see the new king, and present his patents, was much afflicted at his death. He shed tears on hearing the sad news, and, thinking it was useless to continue his journey, retraced his steps. As soon as he arrived at Bagdad, he went with the courier to the palace. The sadness of his countenance informed the king he had some misfortune to announce.

  “Ah, Giafar!” exclaimed the prince, “you have soon returned. What are you come to tell me?’

  “Commander of the faithful,” answered the vizir, “you do not, I am sure, expect to hear the bad news I am going to tell. Aboulcassem is no more; since your departure from Basra the young man has lost his life.”

  Haroun-al-Raschid had no sooner heard these words than he threw himself from his throne. He remained some moments extended on the ground without giving any signs of life. At length his eyes sought the courier, who had returned from Basra, and he asked for the despatch. The prince read it with much attention. He shut himself in his cabinet with Giafar, and showed him the letter from the king of Basra. After re-reading it many times, the caliph said,

  “This does not appear to me natural; I begin to suspect that the king of Basra and his vizir, instead of executing my orders, have put Aboulcassem to death.”

  “My lord,” said Giafar, “the same suspicion occurred to me, and I advise that they should both be secured.”

  “That is what I determine from this moment,” said Haroun; “take ten thousand horsemen of my guard, march to Basra, seize the two guilty wretches, and bring them here. I will revenge the death of this most generous of men.”

  “We will now return to the son of Abdelaziz, and relate why the vizir Aboulfatah did not find him in the tomb. The young man, after long remaining insensible, was beginning to recover, when he felt himself laid hold of by powerful arms, taken from the coffin, and gently laid on the earth. He thought it was the vizir and his slaves come again on their cruel errand.

  “Executioners!” he cried, “put me to death at once; if you have any pity spare me these useless torments, for again I declare that nothing you can do will ever tempt me to reveal my secret.”

  “Fear not, young man,” answered one of the persons who had lifted him from the coffin; “instead of ill-treating you, we are come to your assistance.”

  At these words Aboulcassem opened his eyes, and, looking at his liberators, recognized the young lady to whom he had shown his treasure.

  “Ah, madam!” he said, “is it to you I owe my life?”

  “Yes, my lord,” answered Balkis; “to myself and prince Aly, my betrothed, whom you see with me. Informed of your noble behaviour, he wished to share with me the pleasure of delivering you from death.”

  “It is quite true,” said prince Aly; “I would expose my life a thousand times, rather than leave so generous a man to perish.”

  The son of Abdelaziz, having entirely recovered his senses by the help of some cordials they had given him, expressed to the lady and the prince his grateful thanks for the service they had rendered him, and asked how they had been informed he still lived.

  “My lord,” said Balkis, “I am the daughter of the vizir Aboulfatah. I was not deceived by the false report of your death. I suspected my father in this affair, and, bribing one of his slaves, was informed of all concerning you. This slave is one of the two who were with him in the tomb, and as he had charge of the key he confided it to me for a few hours. I no sooner made this affair known to prince Aly than he hastened to join me with some of his confidential domestics. We lost not a moment in coming hither, and, thanks be to heaven, we
did not arrive too late.”

  “Oh, Mahomet!” said Aboulcassem, “is it possible so unworthy and cruel a father possesses such a daughter?”

  “Let us depart, my lord,” said prince Aly; “the time is precious. I doubt not but that to-morrow the vizir, finding you have escaped, will seek you in all directions. I am going to conduct you to my house, where you will be in perfect safety, for no one will suspect me of giving you an asylum.”

  They then covered Aboulcassem with a slave’s robe, and all left the tomb. Balkis proceeded to her father’s, and returned the key to the slave, whilst prince Aly took the son of Abdelaziz to his own palace, and kept him so well concealed, that it was impossible his enemies could discover him. Aboulcassem remained some time in prince Aly’s house, who treated him most kindly, until the king and his vizir, despairing of finding him, gave up their search. The prince then gave him a very beautiful horse, loaded him with sequins and precious stones, and said to him:

  “You can now safely depart; the roads are open, and your enemies know not what is become of you. Hasten to seek a place where you will be secure from harm.”

  The young man thanked this generous prince for his hospitality, and assured him he should ever gratefully remember it. Prince Aly embraced him, and prayed heaven to protect and watch over him on his journey. Aboulcassem then took the road to Bagdad, and arrived there in safety a few days afterwards. The first thing he did on entering the city was to hasten to the place where the merchants usually assembled. The hope of seeing there some one he had known at Basra, and of relating his misfortunes, was his only consolation. He was vexed at being unable to find this place, and traversing the town, sought in vain for the face of a friend amongst the multitudes he met. Feeling fatigued, he stopped before the caliph’s palace to rest a little: the page whom he had given to his former guest was then at a window, and the child looking by chance that way, instantly recognized him. He ran to the caliph’s apartment.