Arabian Nights

by abc

  themselves at his feet, and the youngest faltered out, "Oh, sire,

  since you know my foolish words, believe, I pray you, that they were

  only said in joke. I am unworthy of the honour you propose to do me,

  and I can only ask pardon for my boldness."

  The other sisters also tried to excuse themselves, but the Sultan

  would hear nothing.

  "No, no," he said, "my mind is made up. Your wishes shall

  be accomplished."

  So the three weddings were celebrated that same day, but with a

  great difference. That of the youngest was marked by all the

  magnificence that was customary at the marriage of the Shah of Persia,

  while the festivities attending the nuptials of the Sultan's baker

  and his chief cook were only such as were suitable to their conditions.

  This, though quite natural, was highly displeasing to the elder

  sisters, who fell into a passion of jealousy, which in the end

  caused a great deal of trouble and pain to several people.

  And the first time that they had the opportunity of speaking to

  each other, which was not till several days later at a public bath,

  they did not attempt to disguise their feelings.

  "Can you possibly understand what the Sultan saw in that little cat,"

  said one to the other, "for him to be so fascinated by her?"

  "He must be quite blind," returned the wife of the chief cook.

  "As for her looking a little younger than we do, what does that matter?

  You would have made a far better Sultana than she."

  "Oh, I say nothing of myself," replied the elder, "and if the

  Sultan had chosen you it would have been all very well; but it

  really grieves me that he should have selected a wretched little

  creature like that. However, I will be revenged on her somehow,

  and I beg you will give me your help in the matter, and to tell

  me anything that you can think of that is likely to mortify her."

  In order to carry out their wicked scheme the two sisters met

  constantly to talk over their ideas, though all the while they

  pretended to be as friendly as ever towards the Sultana, who,

  on her part, invariably treated them with kindness. For a long

  time no plan occurred to the two plotters that seemed in the

  least likely to meet with success, but at length the expected

  birth of an heir gave them the chance for which they had been hoping.

  They obtained permission of the Sultan to take up their abode in the

  palace for some weeks, and never left their sister night or day.

  When at last a little boy, beautiful as the sun, was born, they laid

  him in his cradle and carried it down to a canal which passed

  through the grounds of the palace. Then, leaving it to its fate,

  they informed the Sultan that instead of the son he had so fondly

  desired the Sultana had given birth to a puppy. At this dreadful

  news the Sultan was so overcome with rage and grief that it was with

  great difficulty that the grand-vizir managed to save the Sultana

  from his wrath.

  Meanwhile the cradle continued to float peacefully along the canal till,

  on the outskirts of the royal gardens, it was suddenly perceived

  by the intendant, one of the highest and most respected officials

  in the kingdom.

  "Go," he said to a gardener who was working near, "and get that

  cradle out for me."

  The gardener did as he was bid, and soon placed the cradle

  in the hands of the intendant.

  The official was much astonished to see that the cradle, which he had

  supposed to be empty, contained a baby, which, young though it was,

  already gave promise of great beauty. Having no children himself,

  although he had been married some years, it at once occurred to him

  that here was a child which he could take and bring up as his own.

  And, bidding the man pick up the cradle and follow him, he turned

  towards home.

  "My wife," he exclaimed as he entered the room, "heaven has denied

  us any children, but here is one that has been sent in their place.

  Send for a nurse, and I will do what is needful publicly to recognise

  it as my son."

  The wife accepted the baby with joy, and though the intendant saw

  quite well that it must have come from the royal palace, he did

  not think it was his business to inquire further into the mystery.

  The following year another prince was born and sent adrift,

  but happily for the baby, the intendant of the gardens again

  was walking by the canal, and carried it home as before.

  The Sultan, naturally enough, was still more furious the second time

  than the first, but when the same curious accident was repeated

  in the third year he could control himself no longer, and, to the

  great joy of the jealous sisters, commanded that the Sultana should

  be executed. But the poor lady was so much beloved at Court that not

  even the dread of sharing her fate could prevent the grand-vizir

  and the courtiers from throwing themselves at the Sultan's feet

  and imploring him not to inflict so cruel a punishment for what,

  after all, was not her fault.

  "Let her live," entreated the grand-vizir, "and banish her

  from your presence for the rest of her days. That in itself

  will be punishment enough."

  His first passion spent, the Sultan had regained his self-command.

  "Let her live then," he said, "since you have it so much at heart.

  But if I grant her life it shall only be on one condition, which shall

  make her daily pray for death. Let a box be built for her at the door

  of the principal mosque, and let the window of the box be always open.

  There she shall sit, in the coarsest clothes, and every Mussulman

  who enters the mosque shall spit in her face in passing. Anyone that

  refuses to obey shall be exposed to the same punishment himself.

  You, vizir, will see that my orders are carried out."

  The grand-vizir saw that it was useless to say more, and, full of triumph,

  the sisters watched the building of the box, and then listened to the

  jeers of the people at the helpless Sultana sitting inside. But the poor

  lady bore herself with so much dignity and meekness that it was not long

  before she had won the sympathy of those that were best among the crowd.

  But it is now time to return to the fate of the third baby,

  this time a princess. Like its brothers, it was found by the

  intendant of the gardens, and adopted by him and his wife,

  and all three were brought up with the greatest care and tenderness.

  As the children grew older their beauty and air of distinction

  became more and more marked, and their manners had all the grace

  and ease that is proper to people of high birth. The princes had

  been named by their foster-father Bahman and Perviz, after two of

  the ancient kings of Persia, while the princess was called Parizade,

  or the child of the genii.

  The intendant was careful to bring them up as befitted their

  real rank, and soon appointed a tutor to teach the young princes

  how to read and write. And the princess, determined not to be

  left behind, showed herself so anxious to learn with her brothers,

  that the intendant consented to her joining i
n their lessons,

  and it was not long before she knew as much as they did.

  From that time all their studies were done in common. They had the best

  masters for the fine arts, geography, poetry, history and science,

  and even for sciences which are learned by few, and every branch seemed

  so easy to them, that their teachers were astonished at the progress

  they made. The princess had a passion for music, and could sing

  and play upon all sorts of instruments she could also ride and drive

  as well as her brothers, shoot with a bow and arrow, and throw

  a javelin with the same skill as they, and sometimes even better.

  In order to set off these accomplishments, the intendant resolved

  that his foster children should not be pent up any longer in the

  narrow borders of the palace gardens, where he had always lived,

  so he bought a splendid country house a few miles from the capital,

  surrounded by an immense park. This park he filled with wild beasts

  of various sorts, so that the princes and princess might hunt as much

  as they pleased.

  When everything was ready, the intendant threw himself at the

  Sultan's feet, and after referring to his age and his long services,

  begged his Highness's permission to resign his post. This was granted

  by the Sultan in a few gracious words, and he then inquired what reward

  he could give to his faithful servant. But the intendant declared that

  he wished for nothing except the continuance of his Highness's favour,

  and prostrating himself once more, he retired from the Sultan's presence.

  Five or six months passed away in the pleasures of the country,

  when death attacked the intendant so suddenly that he had no time

  to reveal the secret of their birth to his adopted children,

  and as his wife had long been dead also, it seemed as if the princes

  and the princess would never know that they had been born to a

  higher station than the one they filled. Their sorrow for their

  father was very deep, and they lived quietly on in their new home,

  without feeling any desire to leave it for court gaieties or intrigues.

  One day the princes as usual went out to hunt, but their sister

  remained alone in her apartments. While they were gone an old

  Mussulman devotee appeared at the door, and asked leave to enter,

  as it was the hour of prayer. The princess sent orders at once that

  the old woman was to be taken to the private oratory in the grounds,

  and when she had finished her prayers was to be shown the house

  and gardens, and then to be brought before her.

  Although the old woman was very pious, she was not at all

  indifferent to the magnificence of all around her, which she

  seemed to understand as well as to admire, and when she had

  seen it all she was led by the servants before the princess,

  who was seated in a room which surpassed in splendour all the rest.

  "My good woman," said the princess pointing to a sofa, "come and sit

  beside me. I am delighted at the opportunity of speaking for a few

  moments with so holy a person." The old woman made some objections

  to so much honour being done her, but the princess refused to listen,

  and insisted that her guest should take the best seat, and as she

  thought she must be tired ordered refreshments.

  While the old woman was eating, the princess put several questions

  to her as to her mode of life, and the pious exercises she practiced,

  and then inquired what she thought of the house now that she had

  seen it.

  "Madam," replied the pilgrim, "one must be hard indeed to please

  to find any fault. It is beautiful, comfortable and well ordered,

  and it is impossible to imagine anything more lovely than the garden.

  But since you ask me, I must confess that it lacks three things

  to make it absolutely perfect."

  "And what can they be?" cried the princess. "Only tell me, and I

  will lose no time in getting them."

  "The three things, madam," replied the old woman, "are, first,

  the Talking Bird, whose voice draws all other singing birds to it,

  to join in chorus. And second, the Singing Tree, where every leaf

  is a song that is never silent. And lastly the Golden Water,

  of which it is only needful to pour a single drop into a basin

  for it to shoot up into a fountain, which will never be exhausted,

  nor will the basin ever overflow."

  "Oh, how can I thank you," cried the princess, "for telling me of

  such treasures! But add, I pray you, to your goodness by further

  informing me where I can find them."

  "Madam," replied the pilgrim, "I should ill repay the hospitality

  you have shown me if I refused to answer your question. The three

  things of which I have spoken are all to be found in one place,

  on the borders of this kingdom, towards India. Your messenger has

  only to follow the road that passes by your house, for twenty days,

  and at the end of that time, he is to ask the first person he meets

  for the Talking Bird, the Singing Tree, and the Golden Water."

  She then rose, and bidding farewell to the princess, went her way.

  The old woman had taken her departure so abruptly that the Princess

  Parizade did not perceive till she was really gone that the directions

  were hardly clear enough to enable the search to be successful.

  And she was still thinking of the subject, and how delightful it

  would be to possess such rarities, when the princes, her brothers,

  returned from the chase.

  "What is the matter, my sister?" asked Prince Bahman; "why are you

  so grave? Are you ill? Or has anything happened?"

  Princess Parizade did not answer directly, but at length she raised

  her eyes, and replied that there was nothing wrong.

  "But there must be something," persisted Prince Bahman, "for you

  to have changed so much during the short time we have been absent.

  Hide nothing from us, I beseech you, unless you wish us to believe

  that the confidence we have always had in one another is now

  to cease."

  "When I said that it was nothing," said the princess, moved by

  his words, "I meant that it was nothing that affected you, although I

  admit that it is certainly of some importance to me. Like myself,

  you have always thought this house that our father built for us was

  perfect in every respect, but only to-day I have learned that three

  things are still lacking to complete it. These are the Talking Bird,

  the Singing Tree, and the Golden Water." After explaining the peculiar

  qualities of each, the princess continued: "It was a Mussulman

  devotee who told me all this, and where they might all be found.

  Perhaps you will think that the house is beautiful enough as it is,

  and that we can do quite well without them; but in this I cannot

  agree with you, and I shall never be content until I have got them.

  So counsel me, I pray, whom to send on the undertaking."

  "My dear sister," replied Prince Bahman, "that you should care

  about the matter is quite enough, even if we took no interest in

  it ourselves. But we both feel with you, and I claim, as the elder,

  the right to make the first attempt, if you will tell me where I
r />   am to go, and what steps I am to take."

  Prince Perviz at first objected that, being the head of the family,

  his brother ought not to be allowed to expose himself to danger;

  but Prince Bahman would hear nothing, and retired to make the needful

  preparations for his journey.

  The next morning Prince Bahman got up very early, and after

  bidding farewell to his brother and sister, mounted his horse.

  But just as he was about to touch it with his whip, he was stopped

  by a cry from the princess.

  "Oh, perhaps after all you may never come back; one never can tell

  what accidents may happen. Give it up, I implore you, for I would

  a thousand times rather lose the Talking Bird, and the Singing Tree

  and the Golden Water, than that you should run into danger."

  "My dear sister," answered the prince, "accidents only happen

  to unlucky people, and I hope that I am not one of them.

  But as everything is uncertain, I promise you to be very careful.

  Take this knife," he continued, handing her one that hung sheathed

  from his belt, "and every now and then draw it out and look at it.

  As long as it keeps bright and clean as it is to-day, you will know

  that I am living; but if the blade is spotted with blood, it will be

  a sign that I am dead, and you shall weep for me."

  So saying, Prince Bahman bade them farewell once more, and started

  on the high road, well mounted and fully armed. For twenty days he

  rode straight on, turning neither to the right hand nor to the left,

  till he found himself drawing near the frontiers of Persia.

  Seated under a tree by the wayside he noticed a hideous old man,

  with a long white moustache, and beard that almost fell to his feet.

  His nails had grown to an enormous length, and on his head he wore a