Eastern Tales by Many Story Tellers Part 72

"'Grey hairs were never formed to give me delight; Sooner would I twist my fingers amidst the dead leaves That are about to fall from the tree, when the wind of winter is blowing?'"

"You are right," said the auctioneer, laughing (and the master of the slave re-echoed his laugh and his answer); "let us see whether we cannot light upon a younger bidder."

With that there drew near a man whose years were not few, but he had dyed his beard and moved trippingly. He also offered a thousand ducats; but at that moment Smaragdine began to recite as from the book of some poet, but the verses were in truth her own:

"'Say to him that dyes his beard, that I love not the false.

Deception is in him that conceals the works of G.o.d and Time.

He that disguises his countenance, how shall one put faith in his words?'"

A third now came forward, but unfortunately he was one-eyed. The slave regarded him, and quoted, or seemed to quote, without hesitation,

"'Avoid the one-eyed lover, maiden; How shall he be thy safe guardian, fair woman?

Will he love thee better than the apple of his eye?'"

"Look round you," said the crier; "is there none here that pleases you better?" And with this he pointed to a short stout man whose beard was of unusual dimensions.

"Fie!" said the slave, "this is he whom the poet had in his eye when he sang,

"'Providence has given my adorer too great an allowance of beard.

This bush resembles the night of winter--long, black, and cold.'"

"Choose for yourself, girl," said the auctioneer, laughing more heartily than before; "I pray you look round upon all the circle of the bystanders."

The slave cast her eyes slowly around the company, and at last rested them upon Alischar, whose appearance had charmed her from the first moment.

"Mr. Crier," said she, "I will belong to no one but this handsome young man. It is of him that the poet was thinking when he wrote those verses:

"'Sorrow and pain fly from the loveliness of his countenance, And pierce the hearts of the maidens every one.

Why are they not veiled deeply over the eyes?

Why court they destruction in gazing upon his beauty?

The breath of his lip is like the odour of myrrh and camphor.

Men slander him; but the moon rises in heaven, and who will then believe that there is darkness?'"

When she ceased from her recitation, her master drew near to Alischar, and said, "Friend, you see what a wonder of beauty, education, and eloquence this slave is; and, if you got such a treasure for a thousand ducats, be a.s.sured you were a most fortunate man. I swear to you that she can read the Koran in seven different methods--that she excels equally in seven different styles of penmanship--that she embroiders to admiration in silk, in silver, and in gold--and that you will soon get your money out of her, if it were but by the sale of her works in the market-place."

The crier also put in his word. "O sir," quoth he to Alischar, "it is obvious that Providence has an especial kindness for you: she is a pearl and a jewel. You are about to be the happiest of men."

Alischar could not help smiling when he heard all this.

"How!" said he to himself, "last night I went supperless to bed, and yet these people all fancy I am in a condition to pay a thousand ducats for a dark-eyed slave!"

He shook his head, for he would fain escape the pain of saying openly that he was too poor to think of such a purchase.

"Quick," said the beautiful slave, "let me speak to the young man myself: I must talk to him a little in private, for I am determined that he, and he only, shall buy me."

The crier took her by the hand, and, leading her to Alischar, retired a few paces to allow them opportunity of conversation.

"Amiable young man!" whispered she to the youth, "will you not buy me?"

Alischar shook his head sorrowfully.

"Aha!" said she, "I have it. Perhaps you think I am too dear? Will you give nine hundred ducats for me?"

"No."

"Eight hundred?"

"No."

"Seven hundred?"

"No, no."

And in this way she came down to one hundred ducats, receiving always the same melancholy monosyllable in reply.

"I have not a hundred ducats in the world," said Alischar, and a deep sigh came from his breast.

"Perhaps you could give ninety--eighty--seventy?"

At last he could not help himself, and whispered in her ear,--"Angel of light!" said he, "I have neither gold nor silver, not to talk of ducats; I have not a penny in the world: you must find another purchaser."

"Do what I bid you," answers she. "Take hold of my hand, and kiss me on the side of the cheek, for that is the signal of the bargain being completed."

Alischar, scarcely conscious of his proceedings, obeyed the girl. The instant afterwards she drew a purse from her bosom, and said, "Take that, my love; you will find a thousand ducats in it: pay nine hundred to my master for me, and lead your new slave home with all speed."

When they came to the house there was neither bed, sofa, table, nor dish in it. The slave instantly sent Alischar to the market to get a few necessary moveables and provisions. He did what she bade him.

Smaragdine forthwith put the house in the nicest order, and set about dressing a little supper with the most exquisite skill. In short, the next day Alischar married the beautiful slave. Then Smaragdine set herself busily to work in embroidering a carpet. She represented on it all sorts of quadrupeds so skilfully that one expected to see them move; and birds, so that it was a wonder one did not hear them singing. In the whole of this work she occupied only eight days, and when these were over she sent her man to the market to sell the carpet, cautioning him, however, with great strictness, to avoid falling into any adventure that might terminate in their separation.

Alischar followed scrupulously the instructions of his wife, and in this manner, supported by Smaragdine's needlework, they spent a whole year of undisturbed felicity.

One day, as Alischar was going to market with one of Smaragdine's coverlets, as usual, to sell, he happened to meet with a certain Infidel who at once offered him sixty ducats for it. He had a secret disinclination to have any dealings with a Giaour, and asked first sixty-five, and then seventy ducats, and so up at last to a hundred.

The man, to his astonishment, said, "Well, there is your money;" and not having the face to play the extortioner further, Alischar pursed the gold, and returned homewards. He was close to the door of his house ere he observed that the Giaour had been following him, and was just behind him.

"I see you are now at home," said the Infidel, "and I beg you will have the kindness to give me a cup of water, for I have been broiling in the streets all day, and am ready to expire with thirst."

Alischar, who would never have forgiven himself for refusing so trivial a civility, went immediately into the house for a jug of water.

"Where have you been lingering so long to-day?" said Smaragdine. "I know not how or why, but a certain painful antic.i.p.ation of some misfortune has been hanging over my mind ever since you went out. It rejoices my very heart to see you come home sound and well again; but what is it you want with the water-jug?"

"Only to refresh a person who seems about to die of thirst," answered Alischar; "but I shall be back again in a moment, my dear Smaragdine."

With this he ran downstairs, and was surprised to find the Infidel, whom he had left without on the street, seated within the porch.

"Dog of a Giaour!" says he, "what do you here?"

"Pardon me, good sir," replies the Giaour; "I was so wearied that my legs refused to support me any longer, and it was a matter of mere necessity that I should sit down somewhere."

Alischar gave him a cup of water, and waited to see him arise and take his departure; but, behold, nothing was less in the man's mind.