Dalila now passed the booth of a very handsome young merchant, Sayyid Hasan, whose cheeks had not yet sprouted down. When he saw Khatun approaching, he started to look at her out of the corner of his eye and, on noticing this, Dalila made a sign to her and told her: ‘Sit by this booth until I come for you.’ Khatun did as she was told, and when she had sat down in front of Hasan’s booth he cast her a glance that was followed by a thousand sighs. Dalila then went up to him, greeted him and asked him if he was Hasan, the son of Muhsin, the merchant. ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘but who told you my name?’ ‘Good people directed me to you,’ she replied, and added: ‘Know that the girl over there is my daughter. Her father was a merchant who died, leaving her a great deal of money. She is of marriageable age, and “Try to find a husband for your daughter but not a wife for your son” is a saying of the wise. This is the first day that she has ever been out, and my inner heart has been prompted to make me marry her to you. If you are poor, I shall provide you with capital and in place of your one shop, I shall open two for you.’ Hasan said to himself: ‘I asked God to send me a bride and He has granted me three gifts: wealth, a woman and fine clothes.’ ‘Well spoken, mother,’ he said to Dalila. ‘My own mother has long been saying that she wanted to find me a wife, but I would never agree, telling her that I would only marry a girl whom I had seen for myself.’ ‘Get on your feet and follow me,’ Dalila told him, ‘and I shall let you see her naked.’
Hasan got up to accompany her, taking with him a thousand dinars in case he needed to buy something…
Morning now dawned and Shahrazad broke off from what she had been allowed to say. Then, when it was the seven hundred and first night, SHE CONTINUED:
I have heard, O fortunate king, that Dalila told Hasan: ‘Get up and follow me and I shall let you see naked.’ Hasan got up to accompany her, taking with him a thousand dinars in case he needed to buy something or to pay the fees for the marriage contract. Dalila instructed him to walk at a distance from Khatun while still keeping her in sight, and she wondered to herself where she could take him and strip the two of them while Hasan’s shop was shut, and she walked further on followed by Khatun, who in turn was followed by Hasan, until she came to a dyer’s shop. The master dyer was called al-Hajj Muhammad, a man like a taro knife, splitting both males and females alike, who was fond of eating both figs and pomegranates. This man heard the tinkling of anklets and, on raising his head, he caught sight of the girl and the young man. Dalila sat down by his booth, greeted him and asked: ‘Are you al-Hajj Muhammad, the dyer?’ ‘Yes, I am,’ the man replied. ‘What do you want?’ ‘Good people directed me to you,’ she replied. ‘Look at this pretty girl, who is my daughter, and that handsome beardless boy, who is my son. I brought them up at great expense, but mine is a large rickety house, and although I have propped it up with wood I have been told by the builder to move out and not return to live in it until he has repaired it, lest it collapse on me. I came out to look for a lodging and, as I have been directed to you by honest folk, I would like to leave my daughter and my son with you.’ ‘Here is ready-buttered bread,’ Muhammad said to himself, and he told Dalila: ‘It is true that I have a house with a hall and an upper floor, but I need it all for guests and for the peasants who supply me with indigo.’ ‘My son,’ Dalila said, ‘at the most it will be one or two months before my house is repaired. We are strangers here, so please share your guest rooms with us and I swear by my life that, if you want, we shall welcome your guests as our own, eating and sleeping with them.’
Muhammad then handed her a bunch of keys, one big, one small and one crooked, telling her that the first was for the house itself, the crooked one for the hall and the little one for the upper floor. She took them and went to the lane, followed by Khatun, who was herself still followed by Hasan. When she saw the house door, she opened it and went in, as did Khatun. ‘Daughter,’ Dalila told her, ‘this is the house of the shaikh Abu’l-Hamalat,’ and, after having shown her the hall, she told her to go upstairs, undo her veil and wait for her. Khatun went up and sat down to wait, after which Hasan came into the house and was met by Dalila, who told him: ‘Sit in the hall until I bring my daughter for you to look at.’ When he went in and sat down, she went to Khatun, who told her that she would like to visit the shaikh before other people arrived. ‘Daughter,’ Dalila said, ‘I am afraid for you,’ and when Khatun asked why this was, she explained: ‘My son is here and, although he is the shaikh’s lieutenant, he is an idiot who cannot tell the difference between summer and winter and always goes about naked. If a girl like you comes in to visit the shaikh, he pulls off her earrings, tearing her ears, and then cuts up her silk dress. So take off your jewellery and your clothes so that I can keep them for you until you have made your visit.’ Khatun did this and handed over the jewels and clothes to Dalila, who said that she would hang them for her on the shaikh’s curtain, so as to win a blessing.
Dalila took what she had been given and hid them somewhere on the stairs, leaving Khatun in her shift and drawers. She then went to Hasan, whom she found waiting expectantly for Khatun, but when he asked where she was, Dalila beat her breast. ‘What is wrong?’ he asked, and she replied by cursing evil and envious neighbours. ‘They saw you coming in with me,’ she explained, ‘and when they asked me about you, I said that I had chosen you as a husband for my daughter. That made them envy me and they said to my daughter: “Is your mother so tired of providing for you that she wants to marry you to a leper?” I then swore to her that I would only let her see you when you were naked.’ ‘I take refuge in God from the envious!’ exclaimed Hasan, and he uncovered his arms, which Dalila could see were white as silver. ‘Have no fear,’ Dalila told him. ‘I shall let you see her naked as she will see you.’ ‘Let her come to look at me,’ he said, and he then removed his sable fur, his belt and his knife, before taking off his clothes and leaving himself in his shirt and drawers. He put his thousand dinars among his things, and Dalila said: ‘Give all your things to me to keep for you.’ She took them and, after putting them together with those of Khatun, she carried them all off, locking the door on the two of them before going off on her way.
Morning now dawned and Shahrazad broke off from what she had been allowed to say. Then, when it was the seven hundred and second night, SHE CONTINUED:
I have heard, O fortunate king, that when Dalila had taken Hasan’s things and those of Khatun, she locked the door on them and went off on her way. She left what she was carrying with a perfume seller, and then went to the dyer, whom she found sitting waiting for her. ‘I hope that you were pleased with the house,’ he said, to which she replied: ‘It is a fortunate place and I am on my way to fetch porters to carry our belongings and furnishings, but my children want me to bring them bread and meat. Would you take this dinar and provide this for them, and then go and eat with them?’ ‘But who will stand guard over my shop and the things that people have left here?’ he asked. ‘Your boy,’ she said, and after he had agreed to this, he took a bowl and a lid to cover it and went off to get the food.
So much for him – and the sequel will come later – but as for Dalila, she took back from the perfume seller what she had taken from Khatun and Hasan and then returned to the dyer’s shop and told his boy: ‘Go to your master, and I shan’t leave until both of you come back.’ ‘To hear is to obey,’ the boy said, and Dalila then took everything that was in the shop and called to a hashish-eating donkey man who had had no work for a week. ‘Do you know my son, the dyer?’ she asked him, and when he said that he did, she went on: ‘The poor man is penniless and in debt. Whenever he is put in prison, I have to free him, and so I want to have him declared bankrupt. I’m going off to return their goods to his customers, and to get this done I want to hire your donkey for a dinar. When I’m away I want you to take the scoop and use it to empty out the vats before breaking them, together with the jars, so that when the qadi sends someone to investigate, he will find nothing here.’ ‘The dyer has been good to me,’ said the ma
n, ‘and so I’ll do him a favour.’
Dalila took everything and loaded it on the donkey, after which, under God’s protection, she set off home. There she went to Zainab, her daughter, who asked what she had been up to. She boasted that she had played four tricks on four people, a young merchant, the wife of an emir, a dyer and a donkey man, and she added: ‘I have brought you all their belongings on the man’s donkey.’ Zainab pointed out that she would never be able to go through the town again for fear of the emir whose wife she had robbed of her belongings, of the young merchant whom she had stripped, of the dyer whose customers’ goods she had taken from his shop and of the owner of the donkey. ‘Bah!’ Dalila replied. ‘The only one who concerns me is the donkey man, because he knows me.’
As for the dyer, he got the meat and bread, which his servant carried on his head, and when he passed his shop he saw the donkey man breaking his vats. There were no goods of any description left there and the place had been wrecked. ‘Stop!’ he called to the donkey man, who did so, exclaiming: ‘Praise be to God that you are safe, master! I felt for you.’ ‘Why?’ asked the dyer. ‘What happened to me?’ ‘You lost your money,’ replied the man, ‘and you were to be made bankrupt.’ ‘Who told you that?’ the dyer asked, and the man said: ‘Your mother, and she told me to break the vats and empty out the jars lest when the inspector comes he might find something in your shop.’ The dyer cursed, beat his breast and said: ‘My mother is long since dead.’ He lamented the loss of his goods and those of his customers, while the donkey man mourned the loss of his donkey. He then said to the dyer: ‘Get my donkey back from your mother,’ at which the dyer laid hold of him and started to pummel him, saying: ‘Bring me the old woman,’ while the donkey man said: ‘Bring me my donkey.’
A crowd gathered around…
Morning now dawned and Shahrazad broke off from what she had been allowed to say. Then, when it was the seven hundred and third night, SHE CONTINUED:
I have heard, O fortunate king, that the dyer and the donkey man laid hold of one another and started to exchange blows, each accusing the other. A crowd gathereda round them and one man said: ‘What’s the story, master Muhammad?’ ‘I’ll tell you,’ said the donkey man, and he told them what had happened to him, adding: ‘I thought that the dyer was going to thank me, but when he caught sight of me, he beat his breast and said that his mother was dead. For my part, I want my donkey back from him, as he has played this trick on me in order to take it from me.’ The bystanders asked Muhammad whether he had entrusted his shop and its contents to the old woman because he knew her. ‘No, I don’t know her,’ he replied, ‘but she lodged with me today, together with her son and daughter.’ ‘In my judgement,’ said one of those present, ‘the dyer is responsible for the donkey,’ and when he was asked why, he explained: ‘The only reason why the donkey man was happy to give his donkey to the old woman was that he had seen that the dyer had entrusted her with his shop and its contents.’ Someone else said: ‘Master Muhammad, as you have taken the woman as a lodger, it is up to you to bring this man his donkey.’ They all then set off for his house, and what happened will be told later.
As for Hasan, the young merchant, he waited for Dalila to come, but she did not bring her ‘daughter’, while Khatun, on her part, waited for her to bring permission from her lunatic son, the lieutenant of Shaikh Abu’l-Hamalat. When Dalila failed to arrive, she got up to visit the shaikh herself, but when she went into the hall she was met by Hasan. He asked her where her mother was, who had brought him in order to marry him to her. ‘My mother is dead,’ Khatun told him and went on to ask whether he was her lunatic son, the lieutenant of Shaikh Abu’l-Hamalat. ‘She is no mother of mine,’ Hasan told her, ‘but rather a scheming old woman who has tricked me out my clothes and taken my thousand dinars.’ ‘She tricked me too,’ said Khatun, ‘by bringing me here to visit Abu’l-Hamalat and making me strip.’ ‘I hold you responsible for the return of my clothes and my money,’ Hasan told her, and she replied: ‘And for my part I hold you responsible for the return of my clothes and my jewellery, so fetch me your mother.’
At this point, in came the dyer and saw the two of them half-naked. ‘Tell me, where is your mother?’ he said, and each of them in turn explained everything that had happened to them. The dyer lamented the loss of his goods and of his customers’ possessions, while the donkey man again mourned the loss of his donkey and insisted that the dyer return it to him. ‘This old woman is a trickster,’ the dyer said, and he then told Hasan and Khatun to leave so that he could lock the door. ‘It will bring disgrace on you if we come into your house with our clothes and leave without them,’ Hasan pointed out, and so the dyer supplied both of them with clothes and sent Khatun back to her house. What happened to her after her husband came back from his journey will be told later.
As for the dyer himself, he locked up his shop and told Hasan to come with him to look for the old woman in order to hand her over to the wali. Hasan went with him and they were accompanied to the wali’s house by the donkey man. They told the wali that they had a complaint, and when he asked them about it, they explained what had happened. ‘How many old women are there in the town?’ he asked. ‘Go and look for her, and when you get hold of her, I’ll force a confession out of her for you.’ So they went around looking for Dalila and what happened to them will be told later.
As for the wily Dalila herself, she told Zainab, her daughter, that she wanted to play another trick, and when Zainab said that she was afraid for her, she said: ‘I am like an old bean which can’t be harmed by water or fire.’ Then she got up and dressed herself as the servant of some important person and went out to look for a trick to play. She passed by a lane that had been spread with carpets, where lamps were hanging and singing could be heard together with the beating of tambourines. There she saw a slave girl carrying a little boy splendidly dressed in a silver-embroidered robe, with a tarboosh studded with pearls on his head. Round his neck was a jewelled collar of gold, and he was wearing a velvet cloak.
The house belonged to the doyen of the merchants of Baghdad, and the child was his son. He also had a virgin daughter whose betrothal was being celebrated that day. Her mother had with her a number of women and singing girls and, as the little boy would cling on to her wherever she went, she called the slave girl and told her to take him and play with him until the party was over. Dalila went into the house and saw the child being carried on the slave girl’s shoulder. She asked her what it was they were celebrating, and when the girl told her that the singers were there for the betrothal of the daughter of the house, Dalila said to herself that it was up to her to take the child from her by a trick.
Morning now dawned and Shahrazad broke off from what she had been allowed to say. Then, when it was the seven hundred and fourth night, SHE CONTINUED:
I have heard, O fortunate king, that Dalila said to herself that it was up to her to take the child from the slave girl by a trick. After praying to avert bad luck, she produced from her pocket a small brass token that looked like a dinar and said to the girl, who was a foolish creature: ‘Take this dinar. Go to your mistress and tell her that Umm al-Khair, to whom she has been generous, is delighted for her and will come with her daughters on the day of the wedding reception and will give presents to the bride’s attendants.’ The slave girl said: ‘My young master here clings on to his mother whenever he catches sight of her,’ but Dalila told her: ‘Give him to me while you go off on this errand.’ So the girl took the token and entered the house, while Dalila carried the boy into the lane, where she stripped him of his ornaments and his clothes. She then said to herself: ‘Dalila, it would be a true mark of cunning if in the same way that you deceived the slave girl and took the child from her, you were to play another trick and leave him as surety for something worth a thousand dinars.’
She went to the jewellers’ market, where she saw a Jewish goldsmith sitting behind a crate full of jewellery, and she told herself that the clever thing to do woul
d be to cheat the Jew into giving her a piece worth a thousand dinars while she left the child with him as surety. When the Jew looked at this child, he recognized him as the son of the doyen of the merchants. He was himself a wealthy man, but he felt envy every time his neighbour sold something and he did not.
So he asked Dalila what she was looking for and she said: ‘Are you master ‘Adhra, the Jew?’ – for she had already found out his name. When he said that he was, Dalila explained: ‘The sister of this child, the daughter of the doyen of the merchants, is engaged to be married. Her betrothal is being celebrated today and she needs some jewellery. Let me have two pairs of gold anklets, a pair of gold bracelets, pearl earrings, a belt, a dagger and a signet ring.’ She took goods worth a thousand dinars from him and said: ‘I am taking these on approval. The family will take what they want, and I’ll bring you back the money for them. Meanwhile, keep this child with you.’ ‘As you wish,’ said the goldsmith, and Dalila took the jewellery and went back home. When her daughter, Zainab, asked what tricks she had played, she told her how she had made off with the child, stripping him of his clothes, and then had left him as a pledge for a thousand dinars’ worth of jewellery which she had taken from the Jew. ‘You’ll never be able to walk through the city again,’ Zainab told her.
The Arabian Nights: Tales of 1,001 Nights Page 103