She clapped her hands to call the slave, but he said, “He has gone.”
“Where to?” she demanded angrily.
“Let’s not worry about him, but be hospitable to your guest.”
His long hair was parted and he was heavily bearded; barefoot, he was dressed in a flowing white gown which was open at the neck and revealed the hair of his chest. Should she lure him into her snare? She moved forward, but listlessly. For the first time her face could make no impression. It was a temptation, but only to the sane, not to madmen. She approached the table with a gliding motion.
“If you want food,” she said, “then eat.”
“I am not a beggar,” he said with disdain.
“There’s drink for you,” she said, refusing to admit defeat.
“My head is full with jugs of it.”
“You don’t look drunk.”
“You’re merely blind.”
“What do you want?” she asked him, frowning in distress.
“How is it that you live in a deserted palace devoid of all the comforts of life?” he asked in his turn.
She looked around with a dejected heart.
“Does not all this beauty please you?” she asked.
“I see nothing but walls between which the breaths of the ancient plague rebound.”
Her turn came to strip naked like the others. Weakly she submitted before his defiant madness. All wiles and ruses had come to naught. She turned her back on him in order to think. His lips uttered some faint words. Desperate resistance did not come to her aid. Something like heavy slumber swept over her. Her nerves grew slack. She let the forward movement of change sweep on. The features of her face began to melt and spread out until they became a mass of swollen dough. The svelte figure collapsed, the grace and elegance were wrenched from her. With extraordinary speed there was nothing left of her but disparate parts, which themselves were transformed into smoke that simply disappeared and left no trace. Then the couches, the cushions, the rugs, the objets d’art—all were obliterated. The lamps were extinguished then ceased to exist, and darkness reigned. He took up the heap of men’s clothes and threw them from the window. Then he went toward the room where the cupboards were.
XIX
The madman, addressing the men in the cupboards, said, “I shall not exempt you from punishment, but I have chosen for you a punishment that will profit you and will not harm God’s servants.”
He quickly opened the locks, then left the place.
XX
The men warily crept out of the cupboards, staggering with exhaustion. With feelings of subjection and shame not one of them opened his mouth; naked in body and in self-esteem, they stumbled about in the darkness. They were looking for their clothes—for any clothes, anything with which to cover their nakedness. Time was passing, merciless time, the light of day was drawing nearer, and scandal flashed in the darkness. They wandered about searching the place with arms outstretched. No sign of anything. No sign of a life, an illusion, or a nightmare. As for the scandal, that was real enough. It meant humiliation and despair. They guided themselves along the walls toward the outer door, time creeping behind them. As soon as they breathed in the air of the street they muttered a prayer, and some of them broke into tears. The city was empty. What a great relief! They rushed off naked and barefoot into the darkness of the night. Honor had spat them out and ignominy overwhelmed them, while sin cloaked their faces with a layer of pallid grayness.
Qut al-Quloub
I
Toward the beginning of autumn the madman was intoning the dawn Quranic verses under the date palm, when he heard the voice of the water-dweller calling. He hurried to the riverbank, saying, “Greetings to my brother, Abdullah of the Sea.”
“I am amazed at you,” said the voice.
“Why?”
“How often have you killed the deviant for his deviation—so why is it you spare sinners scandal?”
Said the madman sorrowfully, “I was sorry that morning should come and the citizens should not find a sultan or a vizier or a governor or a private secretary or a chief of police. They would have been taken by the strongest of the wicked.”
“And has your wisdom been of use?”
“I see them with their hearts full of shame and having experienced the weakness of man.”
“In our watery kingdom,” whispered Abdullah of the Sea, “we regard a sense of shame as one of ten conditions that must be present in our rulers.”
“Woe to people under a ruler without a sense of shame,” said the madman with a sigh.
II
It was late for Ragab the porter as he stood outside the gate. On returning in the darkness he had seen shadows of people opening up a burial place and going inside. He wondered what would induce them to do this before dawn and his heart had tempted him into intruding on no easy mystery. He had soon scaled the wall, and, stretched out flat on his stomach, was looking toward the courtyard of the burial place, which showed up in the dim light of a candle held by one of the spectral figures. He saw a group of slaves opening a grave that stood on its own, as though made for servants. Then he saw them carrying a box and placing it in the grave and piling earth over it. He waited until they left. He too thought of leaving, but the box urged him to investigate. What did it contain? Why had they buried it at this late hour? Sparing himself no pains, he jumped down into the courtyard. With eager determination he opened up the grave and took out the box. Were it not for his strength and his experience in carrying weights, he would not have been able to do it. He applied himself to the box until he was able to open it. He then lit the candle that he always had with him on his trips. Casting a glance, he shuddered in pity and terror. It was a young girl, as beautiful as a full moon, her face uncovered and dressed in a robe rather than a shroud—dead, no doubt, but looking as if she were asleep. He realized that the circumstances of the burial indicated some sort of crime; he also realized that he had involved himself in a predicament that he could well do without. At once he prepared to flee without even thinking of returning the box to its grave or of closing it.
III
When he jumped down into the empty space outside the burial ground he found a form in front of him and his heart contracted. However, he heard the voice of Master Sahloul the bric-a-brac merchant, inquiring, “Who’s there?”
Concealing his confusion as much as he could, he answered simply, “Ragab the porter, Master Sahloul.”
“What were you doing inside?” he asked, laughing.
“Our Lord ordered that one should be discreet, master,” he answered him spontaneously. He wanted to give the impression that there was some woman behind the wall. Sahloul laughed and asked scornfully, “Is there not a single upright man in this city?”
IV
Fear held him in thrall. He had not had previous experience of dangerous situations. The leather execution mat loomed up as a gloomy outcome. Though performing the dawn prayer with his body, his mind was taken up with misgivings. The corpse would be discovered. Sahloul would give witness to the fact that he had seen him jumping over the wall of the cemetery, and he was a porter who had been trained to carry such boxes. It was a question of either fleeing or confessing to the truth before it was revealed. He was tied to people and to place; he was not like his companion Sindbad, who was away at sea. Besides which, he was one of those to whom al-Mu’in ibn Sawi, the chief of police, was favorably disposed. He should therefore go to him and confess everything.
V
After prayers he decided to meet al-Mu’in ibn Sawi. However, he saw him hurrying along on his mule among his guard. He followed after him and found him going toward the house of the governor. Suleiman al-Zeini was in a rage and his house was in utter disorder. The governor met the chief of police in a bad mood and said angrily, “See what’s happened at the residence of the governor? Have we returned to the days of chaos?”
Al-Mu’in was speechless and asked what had happened, to which the governor answered,
“There’s not a trace of my slave-girl, Qut al-Quloub—it’s as if the earth had swallowed her up.”
“When did this happen?” asked al-Mu’in in shock.
“I saw her yesterday and now she’s nowhere to be found.”
“What do the people living in the house say?”
“Like me, they wonder and are overcome by fear.”
Al-Mu’in thought a while, then said, “Perhaps she has fled.”
The face of Suleiman al-Zeini flushed angrily and he shouted, “She was the happiest of girls—you had better find her!”
He uttered the words in a fit of rage that was clearly threatening.
VI
In front of the door of the house al-Mu’in ibn Sawi found Ragab the porter waiting for him. With lowered head he advanced toward him.
“Sir,” he said, “I have something to say.”
“Get out of my sight,” he interrupted sharply. “Is this the time for words, you fool?”
“Please have patience, sir,” insisted the porter. “There’s been a murder—the body is outside the gateway and it wouldn’t be right to put off burying it.”
The man took note of his words and asked, “What murder and what have you to do with it?”
Ragab hurriedly related the story, while the other followed it with increasing interest.
VII
With the first rays of light the box was carried to the reception hall of the governor’s residence. Suleiman al-Zeini, al-Mu’in ibn Sawi, and Ragab the porter stood round it.
“I was led to the whereabouts of Qut al-Quloub and have brought her here,” said the chief of police. “But I am sorry to say she is a lifeless corpse.”
Under the pressure of his emotions Suleiman al-Zeini trembled in spite of himself. Al-Mu’in ibn Sawi opened the box. Al-Zeini bent over it with a face that overflowed with sorrow, mumbling, “Verily we are God’s and to Him do we return.” Al-Mu’in closed the box as he muttered, “May God lengthen your survival and lessen your sorrows.”
“Woe to the criminal,” Suleiman shouted. “Uncover for me the secrets that have swept away my happiness.”
“Sir, it is still a mystery. How did she leave the house? Where was she killed? Who killed her? Here, sir, is a testimony that this porter volunteered.”
He told him the testimony and al-Zeini glared fiercely at Ragab. “You filthy creature,” he said. “It is you who are the murderer, or else you know who it is.”
“By the Lord of the Heavens and the Earth,” exclaimed the porter, trembling with fear, “I have not kept from you a single word.”
“You have invented a tale with which to shield your deed.”
“Had I not been telling the truth I would not have gone of my own volition to the chief of police and admitted what I had witnessed.”
Al-Mu’in ibn Sawi, however, gave him an unexpected surprise. “In that, you have lied, man.” Then, turning to the governor, “He was arrested at the scene of the crime.”
Ragab was amazed and could not believe his ears. “What did you say?”
“You were arrested and did not come of your own accord,” al-Mu’in repeated.
“How can you say that?”
“Duty comes before mercy,” he said with feigned scorn.
“You shall not escape God, you liar,” Ragab shouted.
“Confess and spare yourself the horrors of torture.”
“The chief of police is a liar,” said Ragab in despair. “I have no knowledge of anything beyond what I have told you.”
Remembering the sole circumstance that he had not revealed, he continued, “Bring Master Sahloul the bric-a-brac merchant, for I saw him close by the cemetery.”
VIII
Master Sahloul was brought. Nothing was changed in his habitual calm. Asked what had induced him to go so close to the cemetery at that hour of the night, he said, “By reason of my work, all times and places are the same for me.” And he related to them the story of having come across Ragab by chance as he was jumping from on top of the wall.
“Do you believe he is the killer?” al-Mu’in asked him.
“I have no evidence of that,” he said quietly. “Also there can be no killer unless someone has been killed, and where is that person?”
“In this box.”
He gave a mysterious smile and said, “Allow me to see him.”
Al-Mu’in opened the box and Sahloul looked at the corpse for some time, then said, “The girl is still breathing.”
Hope gleamed in the eyes of al-Zeini and Ragab, but al-Mu’in shouted, “Are you making fun of us, you criminal?”
Addressing al-Zeini, the man said, “Hurry and bring a doctor or the chance will be lost.”
IX
The doctor Abdul Qadir al-Maheeni came and at once proceeded to examine the “corpse.”
“She’s still alive,” he said, raising his head.
A sigh of joy came from al-Zeini, while al-Mu’in ibn Sawi’s face became as pale as a ghost’s.
“She was given enough sleeping-draft to kill an elephant,” went on Abdul Qadir.
He continued to attend to her until she brought up all the contents of her stomach. When she moved her head the porter shouted, “Thanks be to God, Lord of the wronged.”
Receiving a furtive glance from the chief of police, Sahloul said, “She will reveal to us the secret of the story.”
X
A tense period charged with silence and agitation passed until Qut al-Quloub regained consciousness. The first thing she saw was al-Zeini’s face and she stretched out her hand to him in an appeal for help.
“Fear nothing, Qut,” he said to her gently.
“I am frightened,” she whispered.
“You are in safe hands, so smile.”
Spotting al-Mu’in ibn Sawi, she became agitated and called out, “That monster!”
There was an astonished silence.
“I do not know,” she said, “how it was that he took me to an empty house, where he threatened to kill me unless I gave in to his base desires. Then, from that moment on, I remember nothing.”
All eyes were fixed on the chief of police.
“You treacherous dog!” al-Zeini shouted. He stripped him of his sword and dagger. “How quickly corruption spreads anew!”
He ordered al-Mu’in to be imprisoned so that he might question him himself, and he declared the porter’s innocence and that of the bric-a-brac merchant. Asking Master Sahloul to stay behind for a while, he said to him, “I am much indebted to you, Master Sahloul, but tell me: have you any experience of medicine?”
“No, sir,” he answered, smiling, “but I have experience of death.”
XI
Suleiman al-Zeini spoke to al-Mu’in ibn Sawi. “I never imagined you would be a traitor. I thought that the ordeal we all went through had cleansed us and that our life would be founded upon justice and purity, and yet you betray trust, treat generosity with disdain, and plunge recklessly into debauchery and crime.”
“I do not deny any of what you say,” said al-Mu’in. “We announced our repentance, but the Devil has not yet repented.”
“You have no excuse and I shall make an example of you for everyone who needs a warning.”
“Not so fast—I am not such easy prey. The evil emanated from your house.”
“Curse you!”
“I have an accomplice—Lady Gamila, your wife.”
“What are you saying?” he shouted, shaking with anger.
“She called upon me through jealousy and urged me to get rid of your favorite slave-girl, Qut al-Quloub.”
“Traitor and liar!”
“You should first of all check with your wife.”
“A false allegation will not save you from being beheaded.”
“I shall demand a fair investigation,” said the man defiantly. “And I demand that the punishment I receive be meted out to her too. No one is above the law.”
XII
Between one day and the next Suleiman al-Zei
ni became an old and broken man. He did not waver about forcing his wife Gamila to confess. She admitted to plotting the crime. He resisted facing up to the truth and was utterly bewildered. To announce the truth meant bringing about the ruin of the mother of his children; it also meant ruining his own position. The truth was evident but it seemed to him that he was too weak to take the right decision. He found himself inclining toward pardoning the two of them so that Gamila might remain in his house and al-Mu’in in his post. Taking the easy decision, however, he lost his honor.
Qut al-Quloub also let it be known that she would not remain in his house from that day on, that she was not safe in it. He was forced to set her free and to provide her with money. He allowed her to go and to take his heart with her.
XIII
Hearts beat with sorrow. Qumqam and Singam communed together, while the madman and Abdullah of the Sea were saddened at the downfall of those who had repented. As for Qut al-Quloub, she went to live on her own in a beautiful house; she lived in want of nothing but was wrapped by loneliness. Though her master had granted her request and been generous to her she had not freed him from the blame of his excessive treatment of her, and the bitterness of solitude set a hellfire ablaze with frustrated love. Many were those who came seeking marriage, out of love and greed, but she refused them all. She refused Hasan al-Attar, just as she refused Galil al-Bazzaz. Others, like al-Mu’in ibn Sawi, desired her from afar, while Ragab the porter inquired of himself, “Is it not the right of someone who has brought a corpse to life to own that person?”
XIV
Arabian Nights and Days Page 15