Edmund Dulac's Picture-Book for the French Red Cross

---

CINDERELLA A FAIRY TALE FROM THE FRENCH

From the very day of the wedding the step-mother and her daughters took a violent dislike to the young girl, for they could see how beautiful she was, both outwardly and inwardly; and green envy soon turns to hate.They dared not show it openly, for fear of the father's anger; but he, poor man, finding he had taken too heavy a burden upon his shoulders, fell ill and died,—simply worried into his grave.Then his young daughter reaped the full measure of jealousy and spite and malice which her step-mother and sisters could now openly bestow upon her.She was put to do the drudgery of the household at no wages at all, and what was saved in this way was spent on the finery so sorely needed to make the two hard-featured ones at all passable.The poor girl scrubbed the floors, polished the brights, swept the rooms and stairs, cleaned the windows, turned the mangle, and made the beds; and in the evening, when all the work was done, she would sit by the kitchen fire darning the stockings for recreation.When bedtime came she would gaze awhile into the fire, answer the door to her step-sisters coming home from the theatre in all their finery; and then, with their stinging words still in her ears, she would creep up to bed in the garret, there, on a wretched straw mattress, to sleep fast for very weariness and dream of princes and palaces till at morning light she had to begin her dreary round again.

And it was indeed a dreary round.No sooner had she begun to sift the cinders when the bell would ring, and ring again.One of the sisters wanted her,—sometimes both wanted her at once.It was merely a matter of a pin to be fixed, or a ribbon to be tied, but when she came to do it she met with a shower of abuse.'Look at your hands, you dirty little kitchen slut!How dare you answer the bell with such hands?And your face!—go and look in the glass, Ella: no, go straight to the kitchen pump,—you filthy little slut!'

The 'glass' was corrected to the 'kitchen pump' because they knew very well that if she stood before the glass she would see the reflection of a very beautiful girl—a reflection which they themselves spent hours looking for but could never find.

Yet the child endured it all patiently, and, when her work was done, which happened sometimes, she would sit in the chimney corner among the cinders, dreaming of things which no one knows. And it was from this habit of musing among the cinders that she got her name of Cinder-slut, which was afterwards softened, for some unknown reason, to Cinderella

Now the day of a great festival drew near. It was the occasion of the king's son's coming of age, and it was spread abroad that he would select his bride from among the most beautiful attending the state ball. As soon as the elder sisters got breath of this they preeked and preened and powdered and anointed, and even ran to the door themselves at every knock, for they expected invitations; and they were not disappointed, for you will easily see that at a ball even beauty must have its plain background to set it off. Very proud they were of their gold-lettered invitation cards bearing the royal seal, and, when they rang for Cinderella, they held them in their hands to emphasise their orders.This must be ironed, just so; this must be pressed and set aside in tissue paper; this must be tucked and frilled and goffered in just such a fashion, and so on with crimping and pleating and tabbing and piping and boxing, until poor Cinderella began to wonder why the lot of some was so easy and the lot of others so hard. Nevertheless, she worked and worked and worked; and always in her drudgery came day-dreams of what she would wear if she were invited to the ball. She had it all planned out to the smallest frill,—but how absurd! She must toil at her sisters' bidding and, on the great night when they were there in their finery, she must sit among the cinders dreaming—in a faery world of her own—of the prince who came to claim her as his bride. Fool! what a wild fancy! What an unattainable dream! —and there was the bell ringing again: her sisters wanted something, and woe betide her if she dallied.

At last the night of the ball arrived. Early towards the evening there was no peace in the household. When the elder sister had fully decided, in spite of her complexion, to wear her velvet cramoisie trimmed à l'anglaise, and the younger had thought out her gold-flowered robe in conjunction with a jewelled stomacher, to say nothing of an old silk underskirt, which, after all, would be hidden; when they had squabbled over the different jewels they possessed, each complimenting the other on the set she desired least herself; when the milliner and the hairdresser had called and gone away exhausted; when the beauty specialist had reached the limit of his art and departed sighing heavily; then and not till then was Cinderella called up and allowed the great privilege of admiring the result.

Now Cinderella had, by nature, what one might call 'absolute taste.' She knew instinctively how one should look at a state ball, and she gave them her simple, but perfect, advice, with a deft touch to this and that, which made all the difference. She got no thanks, of course; but one of the sisters did unbend a little.

'Cinderella,' said she, 'wouldn't you like to be going to the ball?'

'Heigho!' sighed Cinderella'Such delights are not for me.I dream of them, but that is all.'

'Quite enough, too,' said the other sister.'Fancy the Cinder-slut at a ball!How the whole Court would laugh!'

Cinderella made no reply, though the words hurt her. Pin after pin she took from her mouth and fixed it dexterously, where you or I might have done some accidental damage with it, and drawn blood. But not so CinderellaShe had no venom in her nature.When she had arrayed them perfectly she expected no thanks, but just listened to their fault-finding with a hidden smile.It was only when they had left the house, and she was going downstairs to the kitchen, that one word escaped her: 'Cats!'And if she had not said that she would not have been a girl at all, but only an angel.Then she sat down in her favourite place in the chimney corner to look into the fire and imagine things quite different from what they were.

The house was very still—so still that you could have heard a pin fall in the top room. The step-mother was on a visit to a maiden aunt, who was not only dying, but very rich, so the best thing to do was to show the dying aunt her invitation card to the ball and play another card—the ace of self-sacrifice. Yes, the house was very still. Cinderella, watching the pictures in the glowing embers, could almost hear what the prince of her dreams was saying.

All of a sudden a storm of feeling seemed to burst in her bosom.She—Cinderella—was sitting there alone in the chimney corner dreaming dreams of princes and palaces: what a contrast between what was and what was not, nor ever could be!It was too much for the child; she broke down, and, taking her head in her hands, she sobbed as if her heart would break.

While she was still crying bitterly, a gust of cold air swept through the kitchen.She looked up, thinking that the door had blown open.But no, it was shut.Then she gradually became aware of a blue mist gathering and revolving upon itself on the other side of the fireplace.It grew bluer still, and began to shine from within.It spun itself to a standstill, and there, all radiant, stood the queerest little lady you could ever imagine.Her dress was like that of the fairy mother of a prince, with billowy lace flounces and a delicate waist. There was not an inch of it that did not sparkle with a jewel. And as this little lady stood, fingering her wand and looking lovingly and laughingly at Cinderella, the girl knew not what to do.She could only smile back to those kindly eyes, while, half-dazed, she fell to counting the powdered ringlets of her hair, which was so very beautiful that surely it must have been grown in Fairyland!Then, when she looked again at the wand and saw a bright blue flame issue shimmering from the tip of it, she was certain that the door of Fairyland had opened and some one had stepped out.

'Good evening, my dear,' said the visitant, in the voice and manner of one who could do things.'Dry your tears and tell me all about it.'

Cinderella was gazing up at her with wonder in her beautiful eyes, though they still brimmed with misery.

'Oh!'she said, choking down her sobs, 'I want—I want to go——,' and then she broke down again and could say no more.

'Ah!you got that want from me, I'll warrant; for I have come on purpose to supply it.You want to go to the ball, my dear; that's what you want, though you didn't know it before.And you shall.Come, come, dry your eyes, and we'll see about it.I'm your fairy godmother, you know; and your dear mother, whom I knew very well, has sent me to you.That's better, you've got your mother's smile.Ah!how beautiful she was, to be sure, and you—you're her living image.Now to work!Have you any pumpkins in the garden?'

'What an odd question!' thought Cinderella'Why pumpkins?But still, why not?'Then she hastened to assure her fairy godmother that there were plenty of them, big and ripe.

Together they went out into the dark garden, and Cinderella led the way to the pumpkin bed.

'There,' said her godmother, pointing with her wand at the finest and largest, 'pick it and bring it along.'

Cinderella, wondering greatly, obeyed, and her godmother led her to the front doorstep, where, bidding the child sit beside her, she took from the bosom of her dress a silver fruit-knife, and with this she scooped out the fruit of the pumpkin, leaving only the rind.This she set down in the street before them, and then touched it with her wand, when, lo and behold!the pumpkin was immediately transformed into a magnificent coach, all wrought with pure gold.

Cinderella was so amazed that she could not speak. She caught a quick breath of delight, and waited.

'That's that!'said her godmother; 'now for the horses.Let me see: I suppose you haven't a mouse trap anywhere in the house.'

'Yes, yes, I have,' cried Cinderella; 'I set one early this evening, and I always catch such a lot—sometimes a whole family at once.'

'Then go find it, child; we shall want at least six.'

So Cinderella ran in and found the mouse trap she had set; and, sure enough, there was a whole family of six—father and mother, a maiden aunt, and three naughty children who had led them into the trap. In high glee Cinderella ran back to her godmother and showed her.

'Yes, yes; that is quite good, but we're going a bit too fast.Here are six horses—though they don't look it at present—but we must first have a coachman to manage them.Now I don't suppose, by any chance, you've got a——'

'A rat?' cried Cinderella, her eyes sparkling with excitement. 'Well, now, I did set a rat trap in the scullery—not a guillotine, you know, but just a thing to catch them alive: I always think they much prefer to be caught alive and then drowned.'

'Run, then, and see, child.We can do nothing without a coachman,—nothing at all.'

So Cinderella ran and fetched the rat trap. In it were three large rats, and the two inspected them closely.

'I think that's the best one,' said Cinderella; 'look at his enormous whiskers! He'd make a lovely coachman.'

'You're right, child; I was just thinking that myself: he's got a good eye for horse-flesh too.'

With this the fairy godmother touched him with the tip of her wand, and instantly he stood before them—a fat coachman with tremendous whiskers, saluting and waiting for orders.

'Now,' said the fairy godmother to Cinderella, 'open the door of the mouse trap and let one out at a time.'

Cinderella did so, and, as each mouse came out, the godmother tapped it with her wand, and it was immediately changed into a magnificent horse, richly harnessed and equipped. The coachman took charge of them and harnessed them to the coach as a six-in-hand.

'That's that!'said the fairy.'Now for the footmen.Run, child, down to the farther end of the garden.There, in the corner, behind the old broken water-pot, something tells me you will find six lizards in a nest.Bring them here to me.'

Cinderella ran off, and soon returned with the identical six lizards. A tap of the wand on each and there stood six imposing footmen, such as are only seen in kings' palaces. Their liveries were dazzling with purple and gold. To the manner born they took their places on the coach and waited.

'But—but,' cried Cinderella, who saw by now that she was bound for the ball, 'how can I go like this?They would all jeer at me.'

Her godmother laughed and chided her on having so little faith.'Tut, tut,' she said, and tapped her on the shoulder with her wand.

What a transformation! The girl, lovely indeed in herself, that stood a moment ago in rags, now stood there a splendid woman—for there is always a moment when a child becomes a woman—and a woman clothed in cloth of gold and silver, all bespangled with jewels. The tiring-maids of Fairyland had done her hair up to show its beauty, and in it was fastened a diamond clasp that challenged the sparkling stars. An osprey, too, quivered and danced to the beating of her heart. 'But,' said Cinderella, when she had recovered from her amazement, 'I see that I have lovely silk stockings, yet, O my godmother, where are my shoes?'

'Ah!that is just the point.'And her godmother drew from the folds of her dress a pair of glass slippers.'Glass is glass, I know, my dear; and it is not one in a hundred thousand that could wear such things; but perfect fit is everything, and, as for these, I doubt if there is any in the world but yourself who could fit them exactly.'

Cinderella took the slippers and poked her toes into them very carefully, for, as her godmother had said, glass is glass, and you have to be measured very carefully for it. But what was her delight to find that they were, indeed, an absolute fit. Either her feet had been made for the slippers or the slippers had been made for her feet, it did not matter: it was the same thing, and not a little surprising.

Now Cinderella stood up, a perfect picture, and kissed her godmother and thanked her. The carriage was waiting, the horses were restive, the coachman sat on the box, and the footmen were in their places.

'Now, there's just one thing which is rather important,' said the fairy godmother, as Cinderella entered the coach, 'and you must not forget it. I can do this, that, and the other, but at midnight there's an end to it all. You must leave the ball before the clock strikes twelve, for, if you don't, you'll be in a pretty pickle. Your coach will turn into a pumpkin again, your coachman into a rat, your horses into mice, and your footmen into lizards; and there you will be in the ballroom in nothing but your dirty rags for all to laugh at. Now, remember; it all ends at the stroke of twelve.'

'Never fear,' said Cinderella'I shall not forget.Good-bye!'

'Good-bye, child!'

Then the coachman cracked his whip and the prancing horses sprang forward. Cinderella was off to the ball.

'That's that!'said the fairy godmother, as she looked after the coach for a moment. Then the blue flame at the tip of her wand went out, and so did she—flick!

---

It was a glorious night. The same moon that had looked down on Cinderella's pumpkins now shone upon the king's palace and the royal gardens. Within, the ball was at its height. The movement of the dance was a fascinating spectacle. In the great hall the light of a thousand candles was reflected from the polished floor; from the recesses came the soft plash of cool fountains and the fragrance of the rarest flowers; while, to the sweet strains of the violins, many pairs of feet glided as if on air. Without, among the trees, where hanging lanterns shed a dim light and the music throbbed faintly on the warm night air, couples strayed and lingered, speaking in voices sweet and low, while from cloud to cloud wandered the moon, withdrawing to hide a maiden's blushes, shining forth again to light her smiles.

Suddenly a note of something unusual seemed to run through the whole scene. The chamberlain was seen to speed hither and thither on some quest that left his dignity to see after itself. Breathless he sought the Prince, and at last he found him.

'Your Serene Highness,' he gasped, 'a princess of high degree has just arrived in state and desires admission.She will not give her name, but—if you will permit me to be skilled in these matters—she is a lady that cannot be denied.Beautiful as a goddess and proud as a queen; why, the very jewels in her hair are worth a thousand square miles of territory.Believe me, your Serene Highness, she is a princess of exalted dignity.'

The Prince followed the chamberlain to the gate, where they found the fair unknown waiting in her coach. The Prince, silent for want of words—she was so very beautiful—handed her down and escorted her through the palace gardens, where, as they passed, the guests started and sighed at sight of one so rare.So they reached the ballroom, and immediately the dance ceased.Even the music fainted away as this vision of beauty came upon the scene.All was at a silent standstill as the Prince led the unknown down the hall, and nothing could be heard but whispers of 'Ah! how beautiful she is!' and 'Never, never have I seen such loveliness!' Even the old king was altogether fascinated. 'My dear!' he said to the queen in a whisper, 'what an adorable woman! Ah! she and those very words remind me of you yourself.' From which the queen, by a rapid retrospect, inferred that the stranger was indeed a very beautiful woman, and did not hesitate to admit it.

The Prince presented the stranger with few words—for beauty speaks for itself—and then led her out to dance. Tara tara tara ra ra ra!—the fiddles struck up a sprightly measure, and all the couples footed it with glee; but one after another they wilted away to watch the graceful pair, so exquisitely did they dance. And then, as if by common consent, the music fell to a dreamy waltz; the Prince and the fair unknown passed into the rhythm, and all were spellbound as this perfect couple danced before them. Even the hard-featured step-sisters were lost in admiration, for little they guessed who the beautiful stranger really was.

The night wore on, and Cinderella danced with the stateliest of the land, and again and again with the Prince. And when supper was over, and the Prince had claimed her for yet another dance, she almost fainted in his arms when she happened to glance at the clock and saw that it was just two minutes to twelve. Alas! her godmother's warning! She had fallen madly in love with the Prince, as he with her, and she had forgotten everything beside.But now it was a case of quick action or she would soon be in rags and coachless; how they would all laugh at her then!

With a wrench she tore herself away, and, concealing her haste till she got clear of the ballroom, sped like a deer through the ways of the palace till she reached the marble steps leading down to the gate, when she heard with dismay the ominous sound of a great clock striking twelve.

Down she went three steps at a time, a flying figure of haste in the moonlight.One of her glass slippers came off, but she had to leave it. There—there was the coach waiting for her. She rushed towards it, when, lo and behold, as the last stroke of twelve died away, there was no coach at all; nothing but a hollow pumpkin by the kerb, and six mice and a heavily whiskered rat nibbling at it, to say nothing of six lizards wriggling away. And that was not all. She looked at herself in horror. She was in rags!

With the one thought to hide herself, she ran as fast as her legs would carry her in the direction of her home.She had scarcely covered half the distance when it came on to rain hard, and, before she reached her doorstep, she was drenched to the skin.Then, when she had crept to her chimney corner in the kitchen, she made a strange discovery.As you know, the coach and all that appertained to it had disappeared; her splendid attire had gone; but—how was this?—one real glass slipper still remained.The other, she remembered, she had dropped on the steps of the palace.

'Well, child?' said a clear voice from the other side of the fireplace; and Cinderella, looking up, saw her godmother standing there gazing down at her with a quizzical smile.

'The slippers!' she went on. 'Oh no; however forgetful you might have been, they could never have vanished like the other things. Don't you remember, I brought them with me? They were realBut where is the other one?'

'In my haste to get away I dropped it on the palace steps.' And Cinderella began to cry.

'There, there; never mind. Perhaps somebody with a capital S has picked it up. You were certainly very careless, but you are not unlucky—at least, not if I can help it.' And when Cinderella looked up through her tears her godmother had gone.

'Somebody with a capital S,' mused Cinderella, as she gazed into the dying fire.'I wonder!'But just then the bell rang announcing the return of her step-sisters.Oh!they were full of it!A most beautiful princess had been to the ball, they said, and they had actually spoken with her.She was most gentle and condescending.Their faces shone with reflected glory.And she had left suddenly at midnight, and the Prince was beside himself; and there was nothing to show for it all but a glass slipper which he had picked up on the steps of the palace. What a night! And so they rambled on, little thinking that Cinderella had the other glass slipper hidden in her bosom along with other state secrets.

The next day events followed one another with great rapidity. First, came a royal proclamation. Whereas a lady had cast a slipper at the ball it must be returned to the rightful owner, and so forth. Secondly, came news that the slipper had been tried on the princesses, duchesses, marchionesses, countesses, and viscountesses, and finally on the baronesses of the Court, but all in vain. It fitted none of them. Thirdly, it gradually became known that any lady with a foot that betokened good breeding was invited to call at the palace and try on the slipper. This went on for weeks, and finally the prime minister, who carried the glass slipper on a velvet cushion, went out himself to search for the fitting foot, for the Prince was leading him a dog's life, and threatening all kinds of things unless that foot and all that was joined to it were found.

At last, going from house to house, he came to Cinderella's sisters, who, of course, tried all they could to squeeze a foot into the slipper, but without success. Cinderella looked on and laughed to herself to see how hard they tried, and, when they had given it up, she said gaily, 'Let me try and see if I can get it on.'

Her sisters laughed loudly at the idea of a little kitchen slut trying her luck, and began to mock and abuse her; but the chamberlain, seeing what a beautiful girl she was, maintained that his orders were to try it upon every one.

So Cinderella held out her little foot, and the chamberlain put the slipper on quite easily. It fitted like wax. This was an astonishing thing, but it was more astonishing still when Cinderella produced the other slipper and put it on the other foot. Then, to show that wonders could never cease, the door flew open, and in came the fairy godmother. One touch of her wand on Cinderella's clothes, and there she stood again dressed as on the night of the ball, only this time there were not only jewels in her hair but orange blossoms as well.

There was a breathless silence for a while. Then, when Cinderella's step-sisters realised that she was the same beautiful unknown that they had seen at the ball, they prostrated themselves before her, begging her to forgive all. Cinderella took them by the hand and raised them up and kissed them. And it melted their hard natures to hear her say that she would love them always.

When the fairy godmother had witnessed all this she said to herself, 'That's that!' and vanished. But she never lost sight of Cinderella. She guided and guarded her in all her ways, and, when the Prince claimed his willing bride, their way of happiness was strewn with roses.

---

THE CHILLY LOVER A SONG FROM THE FRENCH

---

THE STORY OF AUCASSIN AND NICOLETTE AN OLD WORLD IDYLL

Nicolette being thus shut away, it was rumoured through all the land how she was lost; and some said that Count Garin de Biaucaire had slain her. Thereupon Aucassin, in great sorrow and anger, went and demanded her of the captain.But he got no satisfaction from the captain, who advised him, even as his father had done, to take a maiden of high degree to wife, and think no more of Nicolette. So Aucassin went home to his chamber and lamented for his love. And at this hour the castle was suddenly assaulted by the army of Count Bougars de Valence. Count Garin de Biaucaire, again seeking that Aucassin should take arms to the defence of his heritage, came in and found him making moan for Nicolette. Hot words passed between them; but presently Aucassin covenanted with his father that, if he overcame the foe, he should be allowed to see Nicolette, if only for a moment.

So he rode forth into the fray. But so full was his mind of his love, that he dreamed instead of doing, and was taken prisoner and about to be slain. Then he aroused himself and struck down all around, and rode back home with Count Bougars de Valence as his captive. And when he claimed his father's promise, the Count Garin de Biaucaire not only forbade him any sight of Nicolette, but flung him into a dungeon till he should forgo the love of her.

So Aucassin lay bewailing in his dungeon; but Nicolette one night escaped, letting herself down by the window, wrapped in a silken cloak, and crept along through the streets of Biaucaire until she came to the tower where her lover was. And they had speech of each other; and she cut off her golden curls and cast them to Aucassin through a crevice. But when she told him that she must leave that land, he was greatly angered and forbade her. Then the sentinel on the tower, who was aware of Nicolette, took pity on her, warning her that the town-guard were even now seeking her with swords to slay her.

Nicolette sank into the shadow till the guard passed by; then she made her farewell to Aucassin, and with hardship let herself down the castle wall into the fosse, being assured that she would be burned by Count Garin if she still abode in Biaucaire. And she hid herself in the outskirts of the forest until next day at noon. There came some shepherd lads then, and ate bread on the fringe of the forest. By these Nicolette sent a secret message to Aucassin, which none but he might understand, and she built herself a little lodge of oak-leaf boughs and lily flowers—and hither, after much quest, came Aucassin, searching vainly for his love. Then the lovers had much joy of this meeting; and they rode away together on one horse until they reached the seashore and took ship. But a storm arose and drove their vessel upon the coast of the country of Torelore. In this land men did battle with eggs, baked apples, and fresh cheeses; and Aucassin with his sword put the foes of the king to flight.

When Aucassin and Nicolette had dwelt here for three years in great delight, a company of Saracens stormed the castle of Torelore, and carried them off separately captive; and the ship which held Aucassin was drifted by a tempest back home to Biaucaire, where his father and mother were dead. So now he was lord of that land; but he cared for nothing in the world but to regain his love Nicolette. As for her, she was also at home; for the ship which carried her pertained to the king of Carthage, her father, from whom she had been stolen as a little child. And when her father and brothers knew her, they made much of her, and would have wedded her to a Paynim king. But Nicolette obtained a viol, and learned to play it; then she dyed herself all brown with a certain herb, and attired herself as a harper-boy. She persuaded a shipmaster to carry her to the land of Provence, and there she came to the castle of Biaucaire, and sang to her viol what had befallen Nicolette. Aucassin was overjoyed to know that Nicolette was living, and he bade the harper-boy to go fetch Nicolette from Carthage that he might wed her. Nicolette then went to her foster-mother, the captain's wife, and rested there eight days, till she was washed and anointed and richly clothed, and fairer than ever. And she sent that lady to bring Aucassin her love, who was weeping in the palace for lack of her. So were these true lovers reunited and wedded, and for all their sorrows they had a double happiness, their whole lives long.

---

BLUE BEARD >AN OLD TALE FROM THE FRENCH

Think of it again!A man cursed by nature with a beard that was quite blue, from the roots of the hairs to their very tips!

To be sure, he had three alternatives in the matter.First, he might shave it off, thus avoiding earthly ugliness while renouncing all hope of a place in Paradise; secondly, he might marry a scold, and so become prematurely grey; and last, he might keep his blue beard and remain the ugliest man in all the world.There was no other alternative, for the beard was so deadly blue that no dye could touch it.

He had staked his chances on the second point: he had married, and more than once; but, although his wives had disappeared mysteriously, his blue beard still remained, as blue as ever. How it was that he had ever found any woman blind enough to marry him it is difficult to imagine, for he was so frightfully ugly that most women at sight of him ran away screaming, and hid in the cellar. But it is only fair to say that Blue Beard had such a way with him that, given two hours' start, he could snap his fingers at any rival.

Now it so happened that in his neighbourhood there lived a lady of quality, who had two sons and two daughters; and, in his walks abroad, Blue Beard often met the two girls, and soon fell into the lowest depths of love. Both were adorable, and he really could not decide which one he preferred. Always in exquisite doubt on the point, he finally approached the mother and asked her for the hand of one of her daughters, leaving the choice to her. And she, like a wise woman, said nothing, but simply introduced Blue Beard to Anne and Fatima, and left the rest to nature and their own fancies.

But neither Anne nor Fatima fell in love with their admirer at first sight. His beard was so blue that they could not endure it, and, between them, they led him a dance. Neither was inclined to marry a man with a beard like that, and, what made matters worse, they soon learned that he had already been married several times, and that his wives had disappeared mysteriously. This was rather disconcerting, and each was angling for a brother-in-law rather than a husband.

But, as already stated, Blue Beard had a way with him. He did not expect to be accepted at first asking. Indeed, when he proposed, first to one and then to the other, they both said, 'Oh! you must see father about it.' Now Blue Beard knew very well that their father, having led a very wicked life, was dead and gone; and, as he pondered over it, stroking his beard the while, he began to realise what they meant when they said, 'You must see father about it.'

But Blue Beard did not despair, he merely altered his plan. He invited the whole family, with some of their chosen friends, to one of his country houses, where he gave them the time of their lives. Hunting, hawking, shooting with the bow, or fishing for goldfish in the ponds, they enjoyed themselves to the full, especially in the evenings, when they were rowed upon the lake to the sound of beautiful music, and made moonlight excursions to some of Blue Beard's ruined castles, of which he possessed quite a number. Whatever the nature of the day's pleasure-party, the night hours were taken up with banqueting, dancing, or some other form of revelry, until such a late hour that Blue Beard said to himself, 'Only wait till I marry one of them, then we shall see who is master.' For the present he was content to take their pranks in good part. When he found himself trying in vain to get into an apple-pie bed he merely laughed; when he found his pillow stuffed with prickly cactus, or the sleeves and legs of his garments stitched up so that he could not put them on, he swore merrily and fell more deeply in love than ever. One day they cut down the stem of an aloe that was about to flower—a thing which happened only once in every hundred years. The head gardener, who had been listening every day for the loud report with which the aloe blossoms burst their sheath, was heart-broken when he saw what had been done; but Blue Beard consoled him by raising his wages, saying that in a hundred years' time, when every one was bald, the plant might blossom again,—what did it matter? In fact, things went so smoothly, and everything in the garden was so very lovely, that the younger daughter, Fatima, being the more poetical and impressionable of the two, began quietly to think what a splendid beard their host's would be if it were not so blue.From this—for you know that love is colour-blind—she began to see the beard in a different light.Like a dutiful and affectionate daughter she spoke to her mother upon the point.

'Mother,' she said, 'it may be only my fancy, but I really think his beard has changed a little in colour during the last few days. Perhaps it's the country air, I don't know; but it doesn't seem to me quite so blue, after all.'

'My darling child,' replied the mother, 'it is strange that you should have mentioned that.I had also noticed it, but, thinking my sight was failing me, I feared that old age was creeping on, and so held my tongue on the matter.'

'That settles it, dear mother.Sooner than believe that you are growing old and your sight is failing I prefer to believe that what we have both noticed is an actual fact.But mind you, though there is a slight change, it is still horribly blue, mother.'

'Yes, dear; but blue's a very nice colour.It's lucky to some people.The eyes of the Goddess of Love were blue; the sky above is blue; the bird of paradise is blue; the deep sea is blue.Press your thumbs on your eyes and what do you see?Blue—the deepest blue imaginable: it is the light of the mind and soul burning in your head, dear; and that is why poets and singers are so fond of blue.'

'Then you think——'

'Think? I know, child.Besides, a man with a blue beard is different from all other men; and besides, again, in the dark all beards are black.'

'But even in the light, dear mother, you think it is changing—just a little?'

'Yes, my darling, I do.And the reason I know full well.He has fallen in love, dear; and I think I know with whom.And love can work wonders.Just as grief can turn black hair grey, so can love turn a blue beard——'

'Not grey, mother.Say a greyish blue.'

'I was going to say a bluish grey.But there;—if this worthy gentleman suffers from an affliction,—which, mind you, I am far from allowing,—what could be sweeter in a woman than to pity him?And pity, my darling, sometimes leads to love.'

Fatima then sought her sister Anne, and told her what was on her mind. 'Oh, well,' said Anne when she had heard all about the wonderful change, 'your having discovered it now saves me the trouble of finding it out later on. Not only do I thank you, Fatima, I congratulate you.'

Greatly relieved by her mother's and her sister's attitude, Fatima decked herself out in her best, and waited for Blue Beard to come and find her, which she felt sure he would do. And she was right. That very evening Blue Beard led her aside from the others into the garden, where the moon was shining and the nightingales singing. And there he spoke soft words to her, and wooed and won her for his wife. As soon as they returned to town the wedding was celebrated, and there were great rejoicings over the happy event.

Now, shortly after the honeymoon was over, Blue Beard was called away into the country on matters of urgent importance, which would occupy his attention for at least six weeks. And when Fatima, on hearing this, pouted and began to cry, he sought to console her by suggesting that she should amuse herself among her friends during his absence.

'See now, my dear,' he said, 'these keys will unlock all the doors for you so that you shall want for nothing. These two are the keys of the store-chambers, and these others open the strong-rooms where the gold and silver plate is kept. These here are the keys to my money chests, and these smaller ones fit the locks of my jewel coffers. But this little one here'—he separated a curious little key from the others and showed it her—'is the key of the little room with the iron door at the end of the great corridor. Do what you will with all the rest, but, I warn you, open not that door. Now, I have trusted you with everything: if you disobey me in this one little matter you will incur my gravest displeasure.'

'That will I never do,' said Fatima as she took the keys from his hand. And she meant it at the time. Blue Beard kissed her, embracing her fondly. Then he entered his coach and was driven away.

Fatima, in her grand home, eagerly welcomed the chance of holding high revelry and playing hostess to her friends. They all came running at her invitation, and were immediately shown over the great house. Rooms, cupboards, wardrobes, closets, cabinets and presses were opened by the aid of keys on the bunch, and they went into ecstasies over the wonderful treasures the house contained. There were magnificent pictures, tapestries, costly silk hangings, gold and silver ornaments, the loveliest soft carpets, and, best of all, gold-framed looking-glasses reaching from floor to ceiling. These last, which cast one's reflection taller and fairer than the original inlooker, were the subject of long and careful admiration. All spoke with rapture of the splendid luxury of the place, and congratulated Fatima on her great good fortune.

'For my part,' said one, 'if my husband could give me such a magnificent house as this, I would not trouble about the colour of his beard.'

'You're right,' said another.'Why, for half this grandeur I would marry a man even if his beard were all the colours of the rainbow, especially if he went away and left me the keys of the whole house.'

'The whole house,' thought Fatima; 'nay, this little key here he has forbidden me to use. I wonder why!'

But he had been so stern about it—and his beard got very blue when he was angry—that Fatima put her curiosity away, and continued to entertain her guests. Still, the temptation to slip away and open that forbidden door returned again and again; but always she said to herself, 'Nay; I have the run of the whole house beside: is it a great matter that I am forbidden one pokey little room at the end of a dark corridor?' Then, having triumphed for the twentieth time, she fell at last the more easily;—at least she fell to this extent, that she slipped away from her guests and ran along the corridor, just to go and take a peep at the door.

There was nothing unusual about the door. It was of plain, solid iron, and the key-hole was very small. She wondered if the little key would fit it. She tried, and found that it went in quite easily; yet, remembering her promise, she would not turn it, but pulled it out again and tore herself away. But, after all, she could not see what possible harm there could be in opening a small room like that and just having one look inside. Besides, if her husband had been really serious he would have kept the key himself and not given it to her with the others. To be sure, he was a kind, indulgent husband, and would not be so very angry; and then, again, he need never know that she had opened the door.

With thoughts like these passing quickly in her mind she hesitated, paused, and finally turned again to the door.Her disobedient hands trembled as she selected the key a second time, detached it from the bunch, and inserted it in the lock.In another moment she had turned it and pushed the heavy door open.

At first, as the shutters were closed, she could see nothing; but gradually her eyes became accustomed to the dim light and she saw that the floor was of porphyry,—at all events, it was red.Then, as she shaded her eyes from the light creeping through the chinks of the shutters, and peered more closely, she discovered to her horror that what she had taken for porphyry was nothing of the kind—it was blood!—Here it had clotted in dark crimson pools, and there it had run in little streams along the irregular stone floor.Quickly she traced those streams to their source by the opposite wall, where, as she raised her eyes, she discerned seven dark forms hanging feet downwards from seven spikes driven through their necks into the masonry.

Her first impulse was to flee from the spot;—then there came a dreadful thought, and she stayed. Whose bodies were those hanging in the forbidden cupboard? She took a step forward and inspected them more closely. Yes, they were women, and they had been young and beautiful. O horror of horrors! Could it be true? Were those the bodies of Blue Beard's wives, who had disappeared, one after another, so mysteriously? There they hung, spiked through the neck, their feet dangling above pools of their life's blood,—mute evidence of foul murder.

As Fatima stood gazing at the scene before her, her eyes dilated with fear, and, her breath coming in gasps, the little key fell from her fingers and clinked upon the floor. The sound recalled her to her senses, and she picked the key up hastily. Then she turned and rushed out; and, having locked the door,—no easy feat with such trembling hands,—she ran upstairs, her face as pale as death. She thought to escape and regain her composure in her own room, but, when she arrived there, she found it full of her guests, who were so busy admiring its luxurious appointments that her pallor went unnoticed. One by one, however, perceiving that she was tired, they melted away, promising to come again on the morrow,—unless her husband was expected to return. It was evident they feared him; so did she, now.

At last they were all gone, and, as soon as she was left alone, she bethought her of the key and drew it from her pocket.What was her horror to observe the dull red stain of blood upon it, which she had not noticed when she picked it up from the blood-smeared floor of the dreadful chamber.Quickly she seized the nearest rag, thinking to wipe off the stain; but, rub as she might, it would not come off. As she scoured and polished without result, terror slowly grew on her face. 'Alas!' she cried, 'there is Blue Magic in this. Now I know my husband has consorted with fiends: his beard for one thing, this bewitched key for another. If I am not mistaken, nothing will remove the stain of foul murder from this key.'

Nevertheless, she bethought herself of many things: of sand, and pumice, and strong acid, and she tried them all upon the key; but though she wore the metal away by hard rubbing, the bloodstain still remained, for, being a magic key, it had absorbed the blood of Blue Beard's victims, and was saturated through and through with it.

She was just beginning to realise that the task was hopeless when she heard the rumble of wheels, but she still went on polishing the key, for, whatever coach was approaching, she assured herself it could not be her husband's—thank Heaven, he was not due to return yet for six weeks, and by that time she might contrive to have a new key made, exactly like the old one. But presently, when the coach drew up at the gate, and the horns sounded in her husband's style and manner, she started up with a cry of dismay, and her knees trembled with sudden fright.

Her first care was to hide the key in her bosom; then she ran out, but, for very fear, could get no farther than the head of the main stairway, where she stood clutching the stair-rail, and quaking in every limb. There, in the hall below, stood Blue Beard giving some final orders to the coachman. With a quick movement he turned, and, looking up, perceived her standing irresolute.

'Yes, it is I, my darling,' he called up gaily as he advanced to the foot of the stairs.'Some letters reached me on the road, showing me that my long journey was unnecessary.So, you see, I have returned to your arms.'

By this time Fatima was tottering down the stairs, bent on giving him a fitting welcome; for, though she feared him more than aught else, she must try not to show it. 'Seven of them!' she kept saying to herself, as she gripped the balustrade, 'and seven and one are eight! And I have a throat as well as they, as sure as iron spikes have points.'

There was only a dim light in the hall, so that Blue Beard could not see her trembling condition; and if, when she greeted him, he felt that her body was quaking, he was fond enough to put it down to joy at his unexpected return. And Fatima, taking cover in this, behaved in an excited manner, like one so delighted to see her husband back again that she did not know what she was doing. She ran hither and thither, ordering this and that to be done, and then countermanding the orders, doing this or that herself, and then immediately undoing it again,—behaving, in short, like one demented with excitement, until Blue Beard smiled and stroked his beard, and thought she was a wonderful little bundle of delight.

And so, through such artfulness long sustained, it transpired that the question of the keys did not arise all that night, nor, indeed, until late the following day, when, as ominous as a thunder-clap, came a summons from Blue Beard that Fatima should attend him immediately on the terrace. With a wildly beating heart she hastened to answer the summons.

'I want my keys,' he said in the usual manner of a man.'Where are they?'

'The keys?—Oh yes; the keys.I—I will go and fetch them immediately.'

Fatima ran off, and you can imagine her thoughts and feelings as she went. Blue Beard remained—he was always a grim figure—standing as she had left him,—just waiting: his thoughts and feelings were in his beard.

Presently Fatima returned, purposely out of breath in order to hide whatever confusion she might feel, and handed the bunch of keys to her husband. He took them without a word, looked at them carefully, and then slowly turned his eyes upon her.

'The key of the room at the end of the corridor,' he said grimly, 'it is not here: where is it?'

'The key of the—— Oh; you mean the key of the——'

'I mean the key of the——; yes, that's what I mean.Where is it?'

'Oh!I remember now.You said I was not to use it; so, to make sure, I took it off the bunch and put it away in a drawer of my dressing-table.I will run and fetch it.'

'Do,' said Blue Beard, and, while she ran off, he stood there looking for all the world like a blue thunder-cloud before the lightning comes.

Once out of sight Fatima paused to collect her wits. Then, having made up her mind, she ran twice up and down stairs, and finally rejoined her husband, panting heavily.

'It is not there,' she cried in dismay.'I put it in my jewel case,—of that I'm sure,—but now it's gone.Who can have taken it?'

'Go look again,' replied Blue Beard, dangerously calm.

She ran away again, and again came running back.'No,' she said, 'it is not there.Who can have——?'

'Silence, madam!' broke in Blue Beard'That was no ordinary key; and something tells me it is in your bosom now.'And, with this, he gathered her shrinking form in his rough arm, and with a rougher hand searched for, and found—the key!

'So!'he said.'You lied to me.And—what is this?How came this blood upon the key?'

Fatima was very pale, and trembling like an aspen leaf.'I do not know,' she replied.'Perhaps——'

'Perhaps nothing!' roared Blue Beard in a terrible voice. 'Madam! your face tells me you are guilty. You have presumed to disobey me; to enter that room at the end of the corridor. Yes, madam; and, since you would sooner indulge your fancy for that room than obey my commands, you shall go there and stay as long as you like. Seven and one are eight, madam!'

'Mercy! Mercy!' cried Fatima, flinging herself at Blue Beard's feet. 'Do what you will with me, but do not put me in that room.'

She looked up sobbing, imploring his forgiveness; and, if a woman's beauty in despair could have melted a heart of stone, the sight of her would have melted his. But it will not astonish you to know that his heart was as flinty as his beard was blue, and Fatima realised this as she looked again at his terrible face.

'I have said it, madam,' he replied to her pleadings.'None can disobey me and live.Prepare, then, for death.'

'Then,' said she, her imploring eyes brimming with tears, 'you will give me a little time to prepare?If I must die, I must say my prayers.'

'Ten minutes will suffice for that.Not a second more.'

Fatima hurried away towards her own room, but on the way she met her sister Anne, who was looking for her.

'Oh! dear Anne,' sobbed Fatima, as she embraced her sister; 'ask me no questions; there is no time.My husband has returned, and, because I disobeyed him, he has threatened to kill me.Oh!where are my brothers?If they were only here!'

'They are on the way hither,' said Anne quickly. 'They were delayed, but promised to follow me very soon.'

'Then run, dear sister, if you love me; run to the top of the tower, and, if you can see them coming, make a sign to them to hasten; for in ten minutes I must die.'

Quickly Anne ran up and up until she reached the roof of the tower; and Fatima, standing at the foot, called up to her:

'Sister Anne! Dear sister Anne! Do you see any one coming?'

And Anne answered her:

'I see naught but dust a-blowing, naught but the green grass growing.'

Presently Fatima called up again:

'Sister Anne, can you see no one coming?'

'Nay, I see naught but dust a-blowing, naught but the green grass growing.'

Fatima, in despair, continued to call again and again, but always the same answer came down from the roof of the tower. And so the ten minutes ran out, and Fatima wrung her hands and groaned.

Meanwhile Blue Beard, having sharpened his sword, was trying its edge on the greensward of the terrace below.Fully satisfied with it, he strode into the house, and, standing at the foot of the stairs, shouted, 'Madam, your time is up.Come down at once!'

'One moment,—just one moment,' she replied, then called softly to her sister: 'Anne, sister Anne, do you see any one coming?'

'Nay, naught but dust a-blowing, naught but the green grass growing.'

'Madam,' roared Blue Beard, 'if you do not come down quickly, I will come up and drag you down.'

'I am coming,' she replied; and again she called softly to Anne: 'Sister Anne, do you see any one coming?'

'Sister, I see a great cloud of dust.'

'Raised by galloping horses?'

'Alas!Nay, it is but a flock of sheep.'

'Will you come down?' bellowed Blue Beard, 'or by——'

'I am coming in another moment.' Then to Anne: 'Sister Anne, can you see anybody coming?'

'Yonder I see—God be praised—I see two knights in armour, riding fast....Yes, they are my brothers....I am waving my kerchief to them....They see me....They spur and hasten....Sister, they will soon be here.'

Then Blue Beard stamped his foot and roared out so terribly that he made the whole house tremble. At this his poor wife, wholly fascinated by terror, crept down to her doom. Her face was stained with tears, her long hair was dishevelled; she flung herself at his feet and besought him to take pity on her.

'Pity!'he thundered; 'I have no pity.You must die!'He seized her by the hair and twisted her head back to expose her beautiful throat; then, flourishing his sword, he went on: 'This is my last word on the abominable crime of curiosity as practised by women. By that detestable vice misfortune and grief came into the world, and we owe our present state of evil to the first woman, whose daughters greatly resemble her in that peculiar gift of prying into matters forbidden....' And so he continued to harangue his poor wife, grasping her hair with one hand while he flourished his great sword with the other.

When at length he paused for want of words to describe the horrible crime he was about to meet with punishment, Fatima wailed, 'O sir! wilt thou punish me before I have recommended myself to Heaven? One moment, I implore thee, while I turn my soul to God.'

'Nay, thy prayers are said.' And he raised his sword to strike. But the sword remained in air, as Blue Beard, startled by a loud battering at the gate, turned his head. Then, as the gate was burst in, and two knights came running with drawn swords, he loosed his hold upon Fatima, who sank in a huddled heap like one already dead. Turning quickly, Blue Beard fled, but the two brothers were hot upon his heels; and, after a rapid chase through the house and garden, they came up with him just as he reached the steps of the main porch. There they ran their swords through and through his body, and left him dead in a pool of blood.

When Fatima opened her eyes and saw her two brothers and her sister Anne bending over her, she thanked Heaven for her deliverance. With a sword all dripping red one brother pointed towards the porch, and Fatima gave a deep sigh of relief. She knew, and was satisfied to know, she was a widow.

Now, as Blue Beard had no children by any of his wives, his sole surviving wife became mistress of all that had been his. All his vast estates and treasures came into her possession, and she was young and beautiful into the bargain. The first thing she did was to purchase commissions for her two brothers in the army; next, she bestowed a splendid estate and a large sum of money upon her sister Anne as a wedding present on the occasion of her marrying the young man of her choice. Then Fatima fell in love with, and married, a worthy gentleman who adored her, and these two lived out their lives in one continuous hour of happiness.

His beard was black, and, when at length it grew grey, and then silvery white, she only loved him all the more. Even in the first year of her marriage she had quite forgotten the dark cloud cast upon her early life by that terrible man, Blue Beard; and ever afterwards she never had the slightest cause or reason to remember him.

---

CERBERUS

Yet, in the stories of antiquity, there are at least three instances of mortals, or gods in the form of mortals, passing the grim tiler on entering Hades, and repassing him on coming out again.These three were Persephone, Orpheus, and Æneas.

Persephone was the daughter of Ceres (Demeter), and was carried off by Pluto, the ruler of Hades. It was into Hades he carried her and made her his queen. Cerberus knew his master, so, although Pluto bore in his arms a woman in mortal form, they passed in unchallenged by the janitor. But, when Persephone's mother, Ceres, having searched with lighted torches through all the world for her daughter, came at last to the gates of Hades, she evaded Cerberus in some way that is not clearly recorded. And, when she found her daughter, and discovered that Zeus and Pluto had conspired over her abduction, she was angry and said that she would deprive the earth of cereals (a word derived from her name Ceres, the goddess of corn) until a satisfactory agreement was arrived at.Zeus and Pluto again conspired, and it was arranged that Persephone should spend four months of the year in Hades and the other eight with the gods. This meant that she had to pass and repass Cerberus constantly.

The second case is that of Orpheus. His wife Eurydice died of a serpent's bite, and her shade was ferried across the Styx by Charon and passed into Hades without challenge from CerberusBut Orpheus bewailed her loss, saying, as in Glück's wonderful opera, 'Eurydice':

He found Eurydice, and Pluto agreed to let her go, provided that Orpheus did not look back before he passed CerberusBut, when he came to the monster, Eurydice following, he looked back to reassure her, when lo, she vanished again to her place among the shades.Orpheus, in despair, sang again to his lute:

The third case is that of Æneas, the Trojan prince, who made the journey to Hades to find his lost love, Dido, and to consult his father, Anchises.He repaired to a sibyl dwelling among the mountains, and she conducted him to the gates of the lower regions.

There, over a crag that marked his den, rose the monstrous three-headed dog, his crested snakes bristling, his eyes shooting fire, his jaws greedy for prey. But the sibyl had provided herself with a cake steeped in honey and tinctured with an opiate drug derived from India and now called CerberaThis she flung to the monster, who greedily devoured it and immediately sank into a deep sleep, leaving the way to Hades unguarded. And, ever since, the phrase 'a sop to Cerberus' has been used to signify a sweet morsel flung to pave the way to some concession.

This dog of Hades was not immortal.It remained for Hercules—the type of the perfect man—to vanquish him in the last of his twelve labours.And by this act Hercules was said to have abolished the tyranny of evil in the realm of Pluto, which extended from the utmost star of the galaxy to the lowest depth of Hades.

---

THE LADY BADOURA A TALE FROM THE THOUSAND AND ONE NIGHTS

For, O King of the Age, it was as it were but yesterday that the Lady Badoura reclined in a palace of gold, jewel-encrusted; her couch was of ivory, gold-inwrought; and on the air, fragrant with a thousand perfumes, floated the silvery voice of the slave-girl, singing of love. But to-day, O King, the Lady Badoura was a prisoner in a lonely tower, attended by ten old women long deaf to songs of love. And the cause of this I will relate to you.

For several years the king, through his tender regard for her slightest wish, had left her to bestow her heart and hand of her own free accord upon some worthy suitor; but she had clung tenaciously to her freedom, rejecting all suitors—even the most powerful princes in the land. The king was sorely troubled at this, for Badoura was his first and only child, and it was his greatest wish that she should marry, and raise up children for the continuance of his line. But greater trouble was yet in store. Came one day a monarch mightier than all others who had sought her hand in marriage. So powerful and dreaded was this potentate that the king dared not refuse him. He came with a splendid cortège bearing costly gifts such as are seldom found in the treasuries of kings, and he demanded of Gaiour his one and peerless daughter.

As soon as the ceremony of welcome was over, and the king had heard his guest's petition, he sought the Lady Badoura and made the matter known to her. But she, knowing what was toward, rose not to greet him, as was her wont, but remained reclining, answering every stronger and stronger persuasion of her parent with shakes of her head and 'Nay, nay; I will not marry him.' At length, finding her will obdurate, the king gave way to anger, and, finally taking refuge in the opinion that she had gone from her mind, lapsed into grief, wringing his hands and crying, 'Alas! alas! that thou, my only child, shouldst be in this plight. I see now by thy look and manner that thy mind is affected.' With this he ordered his eunuchs and slaves to take her and place her, carefully guarded, where she could do no injury either to herself or others.

'Since none can rouse her heart to love,' said he, 'she must needs be insane.'And, had the first part of his words been true, thou wouldst know, O King, that the second would be true also.But she was not in this case; and now, having shown how and why she, who but yesterday was sitting free in a golden palace, was to-day imprisoned in a lonely tower, I will relate the causes of that love for an unknown one, which now afflicted her.

Badoura had treasured to her heart a talisman,—a gem of wondrous beauty given to her by Dahnash the Efreet. Now, as you know, the Efreets are a powerful order of spirits, sometimes benign and friendly to mortals, sometimes malign and inimical. Dahnash, and another, of whom I shall presently speak, were of evil origin, but possessed enough of good in their nature to make them long for an immortal soul, and this they sought to obtain by labours of love for mankind. The talisman given to Badoura had the peculiar virtue of uniting lovers destined for each other. She had, by this virtue, dreamed of one far away; and all her heart longed for him unutterably, while she still knew that a golden hour of the future would bring him to her side.

Know, O King, that the potency in a talisman is linked with its origin in the world of Efreets. Now in the far country of Khaledan, ruled by King Shazaman, dwelt Meymooneh, a female Efreet of great wisdom. It was she who had endowed this talisman with its virtues and sent it by Dahnash, an Efreet of lower degree, to the Lady Badoura. After this she had, by magic spells, led Prince Camaralzaman, the king's only son, to defy his father's command to marry; and, by her subtle arts, his heart and mind were so entranced by dreams of one as lovely as she was far away, that his ever-growing resistance to his father's will was at last met by the sternest anger. So it happened that just as Badoura was imprisoned in the tower,—and for the same reason,—so was Camaralzaman cast into the dungeon beneath his father's palace. There in that self-same spot, in the depth of a well in a recess of the dungeon, dwelt Meymooneh the Efreet.

Towards midnight, when the Efreet goes forth, Meymooneh rose like a bubble from the bottom of the well and found the prince, beautiful in sleep, lying on a rough couch against the wall of his prison.Lost in wonder at his perfect loveliness, she gazed down upon him.For a while she stood thrilled with the thrill of the Efreet's love for a mortal, her outspread wings quivering above him; then at the call of her lifelong purpose she slowly folded her wings and drew back with a sigh.'By Allah!'she murmured, 'I know now that He is good, or He could not have created a mortal so perfectly beautiful.I will fulfil my task and win my soul.'So saying she bent down and pressed a kiss between his eyes.He turned, dreaming that a rose-petal had fallen on his brow, but did not wake.

With glad heart and heel Meymooneh spurned the earth and soared aloft through the dungeon's roof, crying 'Dahnash!Dahnash!'Her summons was answered by a peal of thunder and a whirr of wings, as Dahnash appeared through a murky cloud.Torn from his demon abode he must needs come, for Meymooneh had power over him.By muttered spells she held him in mid-air, his eyes blazing, his tail lashing, and his wings vibrating feather against feather.

'Dahnash!sayest thou that she to whom I sent thee with the talisman is more perfect than any among mortals?'

'O Meymooneh!' replied he, fearing her glance, 'torture me as thou wilt if I have not told thee truly that there is none her equal: the Lady Badoura is fair above all beauty among mortals.'

'Thou liest!He for whose sake I wrought the talisman is fairer.'

Word gave word in heated dissension, and Dahnash only escaped Meymooneh's wrath by pleading for a fair comparison of the two seen side by side.

'Go, then!'cried Meymooneh, buffeting him with her wing.'Off with you to China and bring hither your bird of beauty.We will compare them side by side, as thou sayest; and then we will further prove the matter by waking first one and then the other to see which accords the other the more fervent protestations of love.Go!Bring her to my abode!'

On this Dahnash sped with incredible swiftness to China, while Meymooneh repaired to the dungeon where the prince was still in slumber.

In a brief space Dahnash reappeared at her side bearing the Lady Badoura sleeping in his arms. He laid his lovely burden on the couch beside Camaralzaman, and the two Efreets, dumbfounded by the incomparable beauty of the pair, gazed upon them in speechless wonder.

'It is well we agreed that they themselves should decide,' said Meymooneh at length, 'for where both are perfect the decision is beyond our power.'

Then, transforming herself into a flea, she sprang forthwith upon the neck of the prince and bit him. Camaralzaman awoke, and, raising himself on one elbow, beheld the face and form of Badoura by his side. Giving himself up to a sudden ecstasy of love, and crying that all his life had been a dream of which this was the waking fulfilment, he strove to arouse her; but in vain: she was bound by the spell of the Efreets, who, having rendered themselves invisible, were watching intently. At last, his words of love falling exhausted on her unconscious spirit, he placed his arm beneath her raven tresses, and, raising her head, kissed her on the brow with the purest love of youth. Then, by a sudden inspiration, on seeing a ring upon her finger, he exchanged it for his own; and, having done this, sank to sleep in obedience to the Efreets' spell.

Meymooneh, now anxious to show the other aspect of the case, again assumed the form of a flea, and, springing upon Badoura, soon found a way to bite her hard in a soft place. Badoura sprang up wide awake and immediately beheld Camaralzaman sleeping by her side.

'Oh me!'she cried, 'what shame has come upon me?Yet, by Allah!he is so beautiful that I love him to distraction.'Then, after crying out the utmost words of love to his unheeding spirit, she fell to kissing his hands, whereupon she found to her amazement that her ring was upon his finger and a strange one upon her own.'I know not,' cried she at last, 'but it seemeth we are married.'And with that she sighed with content, and, nestling to his side, fell under the Efreets' spell of sleep.

At a loss, even now, to decide which was the more beautiful, the Efreets agreed to waive their difference, and Dahnash, at the bidding of Meymooneh, raised Badoura in his arms and sped through space to China.

When waking came with morning light the case with Badoura was like that with Camaralzaman, save that the former, having quitted her couch, forgot it, whereas the latter was clearly certain he had not quitted his. Each discovered the other's ring bestowed in exchange. Each thrilled at the meaning of this pledge, which proved their meeting to have been no baseless dream. Each swore by Allah that a fiendish trick had been played at dead of night,—not in the wedding of them in their sleep, but in the snatching of them asunder before waking. Badoura wailed for her husband; Camaralzaman rose in wrath and demanded his stolen wife. There was trouble in China and in Khaledan that day, and in each kingdom a sorrowful king wept for the madness of his first-born.

For three long years the pair nursed their love in separation and confinement.Camaralzaman was sent in splendid exile to a palace by the sea, but the wide expanse of waters only afforded him the greater space for the longing which consumed him.He could not know that, far across the ocean, the one he longed for was sitting, chained by the neck with a golden chain, there at the window of her palace tower—chained and guarded lest in her supposed madness she should hurl her body in the wake of her soul which rushed to meet him from afar.He could not know that her father, the king, had invited the astrologers and wise men to cure his daughter of her malady, the reward of success being her hand and half his kingdom, the punishment of failure the forfeiture of life; nay, he might even have rejoiced to know that already forty heads, relieved of wisdom, decked the walls of Gaiour's palace.Yet, O King of the Age, through the virtues of the talisman he was led thither to see and know.

One day Badoura's old nurse arose from sleep bewildered, and, summoning her son Marzavan, she dispatched him on the track of the footprints of a dream. One in the wide world afar seemed to have come and gone, leaving nothing but a trail of the perfume of Paradise—a trail which Marzavan must follow. He set forth, and over land and sea he travelled on his quest. Now upon some fragrant gale he fancied he heard the voice of the one he sought; now in the sunset glow of the western hills he caught the echo of his horse's hoofs. Many he met who had heard of a prince afar who was mad for the love of one unknown, but none could pilot him to that prince's dwelling-place. At last it was the wing of chance—the certainty of talismans—that brought him to the feet of Camaralzaman. Through perilous adventure, ending in shipwreck, he found him and told him all. How they contrived their sudden flight and passage across land and sea I leave to your own thoughts, O King of the Age, for thou knowest in thy wisdom that, where none can find a way, Love will find a way.

So it transpired one day that the forty heads relieved of wisdom looked down approvingly upon a youthful astrologer beating with his staff upon the palace gates.

'By Allah!'cried the janitor on opening to him.'Thou art in a mighty hurry to quit this life so soon.'

'Nay, I come to heal the Lady Badoura of her malady. Let me in, and that quickly!'

He had his will. Then, step by step, each step an age, he followed up and up to the lonely tower. His hair seemed turning grey before he was admitted; but no sooner had he crossed the threshold than Badoura, with a cry of joy, rose and broke her golden chain, and sped to his arms, where she lay in bliss, pouring out her soul in sobs and kisses.

The cure was immediate.The king came in haste and saw in a moment that she was healed beyond the wildest hope of the forty bleached heads.

'Allah be praised!'he cried on seeing her face aglow and her eyes a-dancing with delight.'There is indeed no god but Allah!For I perceive that He hath restored my daughter's reason.'

'Nay, my father,' returned she, 'Allah hath restored thy daughter's husband: her reason was never lacking.'And when, in proof of her words, she had shown the astonished king her own ring upon the finger of Camaralzaman, and his upon hers, she clung to her husband in an ecstasy of joy, returning his ardent kisses again and again and again.

When the whole story of Camaralzaman's perils and adventures by land and sea was told, the king marvelled greatly at the power of love that had drawn two sundered hearts together in so wonderful a fashion.

'Of a surety,' he said, 'the souls of these two have stood together in the Magic Isle of Love, where the woven moonbeams trap the hearts of lovers in one net.And, by Allah!though those silvery threads may stretch to the brink of the earth and the opposite sides of heaven, they must, at Allah's will, tighten again, drawing heart close to heart.Great is the will of Allah!'

The Lady Badoura, with her husband, Prince Camaralzaman, dwelt in the land of China in a state of the utmost delight and happiness for many, many days, beloved of the king and all the people. And Badoura treasured the talisman that had brought such great joy: she wore it always,—sewn in her robe against the beating of her heart.

---

THE SLEEPER AWAKENED A TALE FROM THE THOUSAND AND ONE NIGHTS

O my Lord the King, strange as was the story of Sindbad the Sailor, that of Abu Hasan the Wag is even stranger—indeed, there is no true story so strange in all the world.Abu Hasan—a mere merchant—awoke one morning to find himself caliph of Baghdad; and, as thou bidst me recall a tale of past telling, I will relate exactly how it happened.

Know, then, O King, that Abu Hasan the Wag, living in the reign of Harun-er-Rashid, inherited a large fortune from his father.As his wealth was no longer his father's but his own, he took thought as to how he might save at least some of it.Accordingly, without telling any one, he divided it into two equal parts, setting one part aside in a safe place and keeping the other at his disposal to lavish among his boon companions.'In this way,' said he, 'I shall at once be risking only half my fortune and learning the way of the world; for I doubt not that when I have spent the one-half on my friends they will in their turn treat me in like fashion.'By which you will perceive, O King, that Abu Hasan, whose exact age I have not stated, was at least young.

A great man then was Abu Hasan.He had gold, and he summoned his boon companions to every delight his heart could devise.Long and loud was the revelry by night.Equally long were the bills by day.But Abu Hasan knew his friends: they were good fellows all, and he felt quite sure that when the half of his fortune was spent and they thought him penniless, they would turn to him and say, 'Thou didst treat us right royally while thou wast rich: now that thou art poor, come and partake, in your turn, of our largesse.'By which you will perceive, O King, that he was not growing any older.

A whole year passed in riotous living and extravagant generosity.Then, finding the money exhausted, he called his boon companions and laid his case before them, expecting what he did not receive.Every one of them turned his back and left him with the utmost unconcern.Some called him a fool; others could not imagine what he had done with all his money: all took their leave and went their ways.

A sad man then was Abu Hasan and, like all sad men, he sought his mother.

'O my son,' said she, stroking his hair, 'was it not always so?Thou wast rich: they were thy friends.Thou art poor: where is their friendship?My son, thou hast sold it and paid for it thyself.Alas!learn from this never to put thy trust in the friends of thy purse.'And, with his head upon her lap, she wept over him bitterly.

A changed man then was Abu Hasan.He arose and went forth, no longer young, and withdrew from its safe keeping the remaining half of his fortune.With a part of this—being still a man of wealth—he purchased a mansion and filled it with all manner of delights till it was fit to charm the heart of the caliph himself; and there he dwelt in luxury, as befitted a man of his station.But, having purchased a fragment of wisdom at the price of half his original fortune, he resolved to make use of it.He would have done with friends and have to do only with strangers, and these, moreover, should remain strangers, for his associationship with any one of them should be for one night only;—at dawn 'Farewell!Henceforth I know you not; for I have been sorely bit by friends; by strangers never.'

In the evenings, when the purple twilight fell upon Baghdad, Abu Hasan would take up a position at the end of the great bridge, and there, sooner or later, he would accost a stranger, pressing upon him a warm invitation to spend the night under his roof, and promising him the best of entertainment. Indeed, being of a gay and merry disposition, he sought even to choose one of a melancholy cast, so that he might exercise his wit upon him and cause his face to shine with mirth. In the morning he would send his guest away with his blessing, having explained to him the nature of his oath and exacted his promise to regard him henceforth as a perfect stranger. 'And so, farewell! May God conduct you in safe and pleasant ways!'

For a long time he behaved in this manner, providing the best of entertainment and adhering closely to his oath.At length there came an evening when he was waiting as usual on the bridge, and it chanced that the caliph of Baghdad himself came by, disguised as a merchant—a favourite amusement of his when he wished to traverse the ways of the city and see how his people fared.Abu Hasan looked at him as he passed, and taking him, by his dress and the stout slave following him, for a merchant from Moussul, and therefore a stranger in the city, he accosted him.

'Sir,' he said, saluting gracefully, 'permit me to compliment you on your happy arrival in Baghdad.Not, indeed, to show you that this is a hospitable city, but rather that I may have the honour of your company at my house, I beg that you will accept my invitation to come and sup with me and rest yourself after the fatigue of your journey.'

The caliph, always in the mood for an adventure, accepted gladly, and together they repaired to Hasan's abode, the slave following after.When they arrived they found supper laid for two, and in the most sumptuous style.Hasan, treating his guest with every courtesy, seated him in the place of honour.

The apartment was most luxurious.On one side trickled streams of water through silver channels half hidden among rare ferns.On another side golden fountains played in cool grottoes, and, over all, a soft light falling from a wonderful lamp overhead wrapped the richness of the place in a dreamy glamour.

Towards the end of the repast a beautiful slave-girl floated in with her lute and sang a song of love, inspired by the soft languor of the night.And the caliph wondered concerning his host: what manner of man was he to entertain so royally?

When supper was over, and everything cleared away, Hasan arose, and, having lighted a number of candles to throw a brighter light on the scene, spread a rich wine-cloth and brought out his rarest wines.He did these things himself, because it was always his whim after supper to play the servant to his guest as if he were a royal personage.

'My master,' he said, filling a golden goblet with wine and raising it to the caliph, 'I make you free of all ceremony.I am thy faithful servitor, and may I never have to grieve thy loss.'With this he drank the wine and then filled another goblet for his guest.'I warrant you will find it good,' he said, handing it to him on bended knee.

'I am satisfied of that,' replied the caliph; 'I can see you have nothing but the best of everything.'And he drank to Abu Hasan.

Far into the night they sat and talked of many things.The caliph was pleased at his host's waggish whim of playing the rôle of servant to a royal master, and Hasan, for his part, was delighted at his guest's refined manners and his great knowledge on many subjects.'I am, indeed, a proud man to be honoured by the company of so accomplished and polite a personage,' he said, and, even if he had known that he was entertaining the caliph of Baghdad, he could not have treated his guest in better fashion.

At length, when they had pledged each other in many glasses of wine, and the hours were growing small, the caliph remarked, 'Mine host, thou hast seen for thyself how greatly I have enjoyed this pleasant intercourse; and, as I would not seem ungrateful, pray tell me in what way I may serve thee.I am but a merchant of Moussul, but if there be any request dear to thy heart, I beg thee to mention it, for, though a stranger in this city, I have some friends who sit in high places.'

'Nay, my master,' replied Abu Hasan; 'my entertainment has been more than rewarded by the gracious presence of a charming guest.Any other recompense would spoil my memory of this night and thee.'

'As you will.But let us suppose now—both of us being greatly tickled by this most fragrant wine—if I had the power to grant the dearest wish of thy heart, what would that wish be?'

Abu Hasan laughed and took up the quaint conceit.'The dearest wish of my heart?'said he; 'I will tell it thee in a trice.Yonder, at the cast of a stone, stands a mosque, and the imam of that mosque is a hypocrite of an exalted degree.Indeed, among hypocrites he stands at the head of his profession.He lords it over the whole neighbourhood, and especially over me, for, when he hears music and revelry during the hours that every self-respecting imam should be asleep, he ceases not to persecute me on the matter until I have no stomach for anything that is his.Ah!if I were caliph, even for a single day, then would I punish this wicked man in a fitting fashion.A hundred strokes on the soles of his feet—not less!Then a parade through the city—a triumphal procession headed by that sycophant impaled on a camel, with his face to the tail to signify that he is on his way to Paradise in the wrong direction.And, not to pay too poor a tribute to his skilled hypocrisy, I would give him a cortège: four of his sheiks who aid and abet him in his kill-joy persecutions should follow him at an admiring and respectful distance, each impaled upon a camel, and each bound for Paradise with his face pointing the other way.Then, by Allah!the people would follow this great procession, crying, "Behold, such is the reward of fools and interferers!"This would I do if I were caliph for a single day, but——' And Hasan the Wag broke off, laughing.His guest laughed with him, for he was mightily amused.Suddenly his face became as the face of one who hath a purpose; then, to conceal that purpose, he laughed again, louder than before.

'Mine host,' he cried, as soon as he could contain himself, 'verily thou art a wag!'Then he took a bottle and filled a goblet with sparkling wine. 'May thy wish be granted,' he said, and drained the goblet. 'Pray, friend,' he went on, 'while I fill a cup for thee, wilt thou be so good as to ascertain the condition of my slave beneath thy roof. I doubt not that he is comfortably situated, but he is a faithful servant, and well deserveth the solicitude of his master.'

Abu Hasan admired his guest the more for his thought for his slave.He arose quickly and went to see into the matter himself, for by this time his whole household had retired to rest.While he was gone the caliph drew a lozenge of benj—a powerful opiate—from the inner recesses of his dress and dropped it into the goblet, which he quickly filled with wine.When Hasan returned, saying that the slave had been well cared for, the caliph handed him the wine.'You have filled for me many times,' he said; 'now I have filled for you.Drink, I pray thee, for my sake.'

Abu Hasan took the goblet, and, eager to fulfil the slightest wish of his guest, drank deep.Then, scarcely had he set down the goblet, when his senses reeled.He threw up his arms and was falling prone when the caliph sprang to his aid and gently laid him down upon the soft cushions.The benj had done its work: Abu Hasan was in a deep sleep.

The caliph now summoned his slave, and directed him to take up the unconscious body of his host and carry it to the palace.So they set out, unobserved at that late hour; and, when they reached their destination, the caliph gave orders that Abu Hasan be undressed, clothed in the royal robes, and put to bed upon the royal couch.This was soon done.

Then the caliph summoned his grand vizier.

'Giafer,' said he, 'you see this man upon my state bed: now mark my words.In the morning, when he awakes, see to it that you treat him in every respect as you would myself.Accost him with the same reverence, and observe and do whatever he bids you, for I have put him in my place.Convince him by thy subtlety, Giafer, that he is indeed the caliph of Baghdad, and that his lightest word must be obeyed. His generosity is such that he may wish to empty the coffers of my treasury on the heads of the poor: even so, carry out his commands. And see to it, Giafer, that all, from the emirs to the lowest slaves, pay him the same honour and obedience as they would myself, always exercising the greatest care lest he discover that he is not what he seems. Moreover, as this is a rare diversion after my own heart, be sure to wake me before the drug releases him; and, as thou knowest, the power of the benj lasts little more than three hours, and, after that, natural sleep, from which he can be awakened. But, Giafer, wake me first, for I would see what I would see.'

The vizier failed not to understand.He quickly conducted the caliph to a couch behind some heavy velvet hangings, whence, by parting the folds, he would be able to see all he desired.Then the vizier went to prepare the whole Court for the part they were to play.

In the morning, as the three hours' thrall of the benj drew to a close, the royal apartment was as it had always been at the hour of sunrise.The officers and the ladies of the Court were there, placed according to their rank.The other attendants—the eunuchs and the slave-girls—took their positions as usual, for the caliph was due to arise and prepare for morning prayer.

A slave-girl struck some joyous chords upon her lute, and Abu Hasan awoke with a start.He sat up and looked about him.The royal couch, the resplendent apartment lit by the morning sun, the courtiers bowing before him—surely this was all a dream!With a sigh at the seeming reality of it all he sank back and went to sleep again.

Presently, however, he awoke a second time to the continued music of the lute.Again he sat up and stared in blank astonishment at the richly apparelled attendants of the Court making obeisance to him.Then a lovely slave-girl ran forward and bowed low.'O Prince of the Faithful,' she said, 'it is the hour of morning prayer.It is thy daily wish that I remind thee of this.'

Abu Hasan remained speechless.He knew not what to make of it.He looked again at the sumptuous magnificence of the apartment and rubbed his eyes.'Am I awake?'he cried.'Is this real?Nay, nay; it cannot be: I dream.'

'O Prince of the Faithful,' said the slave-girl, 'hast thou indeed dreamed that thou wert other than the Lord of all Creatures?It was an evil dream, my lord!and now that thou art awake, I pray thee remember thy usual custom.'

'Alas!'exclaimed Abu Hasan, beating his breast, 'what affair is this?Am I Abu Hasan dreaming I am the caliph, or am I in truth the caliph who heretofore dreamed he was Abu Hasan?'

Meanwhile the caliph himself, peering between the velvet hangings, revelled in the exquisite perplexity of his guest.And when, after Abu Hasan had given the lie to one and another who sought to convince him, and, being fairly beaten, had to admit that he was indeed the caliph of Baghdad, Rashid himself nearly split his sides with merriment.Finally, when Hasan, believing himself the Lord of all Creatures, commanded all present to withdraw and let him sleep on, the caliph rocked and rolled upon his hidden couch as if in a fit.

As for Abu Hasan, he fell asleep again and dreamed he was naught but Abu Hasan, the merchant.But later he awoke to find it was only a dream.Of a verity he was the caliph of Baghdad, for there by his side stood Mesrur, the High Executioner.

'Commander of the Faithful,' said Mesrur, prostrating himself, 'your Majesty will forgive me for reminding you that it is unusual to rise so late.The time of prayers is over and the business of the day waits.The chief officers of state dwell upon your pleasure in the Council Hall.'

Abu Hasan looked at him keenly.'Am I awake?'he asked.'Or do I dream that I am awake?'Then, holding out his little finger to Mesrur, he added, 'Bite that!'

Now Mesrur, who knew that the real caliph's eyes were upon him, was anxious to please him, so he advanced, and, taking Hasan's little finger, bit it hard—so hard that the owner of it cried out with pain. 'Ha!' he cried, 'I do not sleep: I feel, I see, I hear, I speak. Enough!'

'Enough, Monarch of the World!'replied Mesrur.'Wilt thou deign to rise?'

Then Abu Hasan arose, and was dressed by the officers of the bedchamber.Arrayed in magnificent robes of state he followed Mesrur to the Council Hall, where he ascended the throne amid the acclamations of the Court.

Er-Rashid himself found a niche high in the side of the hall, a point from which he could see all that took place within.It pleased him greatly to notice with what a solemn dignity Abu Hasan occupied the throne.He evidently believed firmly and truly that he was indeed the caliph.How gracious and condescending he was as the principal officers of the Court approached, and, having made obeisance, preferred petitions which were granted or refused wisely and without the least embarrassment.

The business of the day was nearly over when Abu Hasan caught sight of the cadi, whose face he knew very well.'Stop!'he said to the grand vizier, who was making a long speech 'I have an order of great moment to give to the cadi.'

The cadi immediately arose on hearing his name and prostrated himself before the throne.In his excitement at a sudden thought Abu Hasan had risen to his feet.The vizier stepped forward.'O Prince of the Faithful!'he said, 'forget not that all men are thy humble slaves, and that it is not fitting for the Lord of all Creatures to rise to any.'

But Hasan waved him aside.'Peace!'he said sternly.'I have a command of the greatest importance for the cadi, and I cannot deliver it sitting.'Then, turning to the cadi, he continued, 'Proceed immediately to the house of Abu Hasan and give into the hand of his mother a thousand pieces of gold with my blessing.Then repair to the mosque near by and take the imam and his four chief sheiks and bestow upon them a hundred strokes each.After that impale them each upon a camel, with their faces towards the tails of the beasts, and drive them through all the ways of the city, with a crier in advance proclaiming, "Behold the reward of those who meddle in other people's affairs!" When this is done, see to it that they are expelled from their mosque for ever.'

Having said this Abu Hasan sat down upon the throne with a gasp.He had achieved the dearest wish of his heart.Then he declared the Court closed, and, one by one, all present passed before him and made the same obeisance as when they entered.

Abu Hasan descended the throne and was conducted into a great hall of stately magnificence, where a sumptuous feast was spread.The plates and dishes were of solid gold, and from the rare viands upon them were spread abroad the odours of spices and ambergris.Ten of the most beautiful ladies of the Court stood about the seat set for him with fans to fan him while he dined.

Now Abu Hasan the Wag had a merry wit.Contending that one fan was quite enough, he bade the remaining nine ladies sit at the table with him and eat; and when for very shyness they did not eat, he helped them to the choicest morsels until they could not refrain.Even the lady with the fan he fed with tit-bits from his own dish.The way he engaged them with his sparkling wit was a delight to the caliph, who was still watching the progress of his joke from a concealed place.'Verily,' said he, 'thou art a wag, Abu Hasan.'

When Hasan was fully refreshed with food there was still another delight before him.The chief officer led him into another hall as elegant as the former, and there, when his ladies-in-waiting had bathed his hands in a golden bowl with great ceremony, Abu Hasan seated himself on luxurious cushions and partook of the choicest sweetmeats and fruits, while the Court musicians played a serenade and the Court ladies stood around him fanning him, and responding to his sprightly sallies.Never had he experienced such pleasure; but even greater awaited him.

When dessert was finished he was conducted into yet another hall, where, in the midst of everything the heart of luxury could desire, were set silver flagons filled with sparkling wine, and near them were placed seven golden goblets.

Here also, reposing on soft cushions, were six beautiful damsels, each one of whom could vie with the fairest flower or sit in the place of the moon.Easily enticed to a luxurious divan prepared for him, Abu Hasan seated himself, and, clapping his hands, bade the musicians cease.There was silence.Then, turning to the damsel nearest him, Hasan asked her name.

'Cluster of Pearls,' replied she.

'Then, Cluster of Pearls, fill a goblet with wine and I will drink your health, and may you always shine as now.'

The girl, vastly pleased, handed him the wine, and he drank.And, as the music played, and they whirled about him in the dance, he called one after another at intervals, asked her name, and received wine at her hands.

An hour of delight sped by in this fashion, until at last he came to the sixth and last.'What is your name?'asked he.'Coralie,' said she.'Then, Coralie, give me wine as red as your lips, and with a sparkle like that in your eyes.'

Now the caliph had ordered that a lozenge of benj should be placed in one of the goblets, and this reserved till the last.Accordingly, this was the goblet that Coralie filled; and she handed it to Abu Hasan with sweet words, bidding him forget his exalted degree and drink to the eyes and lips of his humblest slave-girl.

Abu Hasan drank, and, in truth, he forgot everything—even the eyes and lips of the slave-girl—for his head fell forward on his breast and the goblet rolled from his hand.The benj had done its work: he was in a profound slumber.

The caliph, who had enjoyed the whole scene immensely, quickly came out of his hiding-place and ordered Abu Hasan to be dressed again in his own clothes and carried back to his own house and put to bed.

Next morning——

O King, next morning, when Abu Hasan awoke, he sat up and looked about him in the utmost astonishment.What prank was this that he should dream he was awake and in his own home?Faugh!He clapped his hands and called loudly, 'Coralie!Cluster of Pearls!Morning Star!Heart's Delight!Where are you all?'

He called so loudly that his mother came running to him.

'What ails thee, my son?'cried she.

Abu Hasan sat up and looked at her haughtily.'My good woman,' he said, 'I advise thee to moderate thy tone somewhat if thou wish to have a head left upon thy body.Thy son, indeed!Knowest thou not that I am the Commander of the Faithful.Bow down, woman, or it will go hardly with thee.'

His mother knew not what to say, but it was clear he had lost his reason.Thinking to divert his mind, she told him about the thousand pieces of gold and the punishment of the imam.

'Ha!that is so,' cried he.'It was by my order these things were done.I tell you I am the caliph of Baghdad, and I will soon teach you how to behave towards the Prince of the Faithful.'

With this he arose in wrath, and, seizing a cane, thrashed his mother severely—whack!whack!whack!until her screams brought the neighbours running in.And as soon as they learnt how matters were they said among themselves, 'He is mad!'So they fell upon him and bound him, and took him off to the mad-house.

A mad man then was Abu Hasan.Every day he received fifty strokes to remind him that he was not the Lord of all Creatures, until at last he was fain to admit that since these things must be done by order of the caliph, it was not within reason that the caliph should punish the Prince of the Faithful, or that the Lord of all Creatures should fall upon himself in so grievous a fashion.At last, one day he confessed his error to his mother, and it gave her as much joy as if she had brought him into the world for the second time.'I have had an evil dream,' he said, 'a dream so real that verily it must have been the work of wizardry.Ha!I see it now—that accurséd merchant that supped with me. It was he and none other. But the thousand pieces of gold! The imam! Nay, it was no dream, but the most devilish enchantment.'

But as he now confessed that he was not the caliph, his mother easily procured his release and took him home.Under her tender care he soon regained his strength, and at length began to resume his former habits.Again he repaired in the evenings to the end of the bridge and waylaid some stranger whom he invited to sup with him.Some weeks had elapsed when one evening, while he was waiting in his usual place, he saw the merchant from Moussul approaching, attended by his slave.'By Allah!'said he in great agitation, 'here comes that vile magician!'

The caliph walked straight up to him and cried, 'Ho, brother!Is it thou?I am delighted!Permit me to embrace thee.'

'Not so fast,' returned Abu Hasan coldly.'I care not for thee nor thy embraces.Be off about thy business, accurséd of God!'

'What hast thou then suffered at my hands?'asked the caliph.'Is it that I forgot your oath through pleasure at seeing you once more?I am deeply sorry.'

'Nay, nay; it is not that, O master of fiends!Thou didst enchant me and hand me over to fiends, and now thou comest to make sport of my sufferings.Begone!I like thee not.'

'Brother!'replied the caliph with extreme courtesy, 'thou art surely in error.Yet perchance it was my fault, for now I do remember that when I left you that night I neglected to close the door, and methinks the evil one entered to thee after I had gone.'And, by cunning arguments and the most courteous protestations of affection, the caliph succeeded in convincing Hasan that he had no hand in such devilries, and in the end Hasan realised that he had done the stranger so great an injustice that he set aside his oath for once and invited him again to his house.

And as it fell out before, so it befell again.A second time the caliph employed the benj, and a second time Hasan awoke in the morning to find himself upon the royal couch surrounded by the attendants of the Court. His first call was for his mother, but a slave-girl struck a lute near by and answered, 'O Prince of the Faithful! we are here to do thy bidding.'

Abu Hasan looked about him completely dazed.If he was one day Abu Hasan and another day the caliph, who was he when he was at home?The problem was insoluble.He tried to solve it by commanding the chief memluk to bite his ear to see if he was really awake.Then, as the memluk's teeth met through the flesh of the lobe, Abu Hasan shrieked aloud, and the caliph, hidden in a recess near by, fell to his knees with suppressed laughter.

'Verily, I am awake,' cried Abu Hasan, rising in fury, 'but this is the work of the evil one.O Abandoned of God!Back to your infernal abodes!I will have none of you.'And he hurled at them the most holy passages of the Koran ordained for the casting out of devils.At this the caliph, unable to endure it further, came forth, laughing as he had never laughed before.He cried, holding his sides, 'Stop!for Allah's sake, stop!or it will be the death of me!'

Then Abu Hasan stood aghast.He recognised the merchant of Moussul, and also, for the first time, he recognised Harun-er-Rashid, the caliph of Baghdad, the mighty descendant of the House of Abbas.He saw it all now, and humbly made obeisance, praying that the Lord of all Creatures might live for ever.

'Rise, Abu Hasan the Wag!'said the caliph, 'and the peace of Allah be with thee.'

Abu Hasan the Wag!What a history was his!He rose in favour with the caliph, who ceased not to shower gifts upon him.And a time came when the caliph and the Queen Zobeide conspired together to marry him to one of the loveliest women of the Court.These two thereafter lived in the palace, under the caliph's smile, in perfect happiness, tasting every delight until, in the end, when the last cup of joy was quaffed, the Great Gleaner, who gleans alike in palaces and in the humblest dwellings, came to gather them home.

---

JUSEF AND ASENATH A LOVE STORY OF EGYPT

In the days of old, even on a day when Jusef, having interpreted the dream of Egypt's king, set forth through the whole land to gather the plenteous harvest against the seven years of famine to come, a beautiful maiden named Asenath sat in the tower of her father's palace surrounded by seven damsels whose beauty was rare, though it paled before that of Asenath herself. She had chosen these damsels from the multitudes of Syria and Egypt and Arabia—a choice beset with difficulty, for each one of them was neither older nor younger than Asenath, having been born in the selfsame midnight hour, though in places far distant beneath the moon.

'Think not,' she was saying to them, 'that my father Putiphra, priest of Heliopolis and satrap of Pharaoh though he be, can say to me, "This man shalt thou love," or, "That man shall take thee to wife." Nay, the heart of Asenath is her own, and it goes not out to any man, be he the greatest in the land or so beautiful that the stars bow down before him. True, my father is a good man and just, yet would not I obey him in such a matter, for, in the first place, my dead mother's words are locked in my bosom. "My daughter," she said, "although thy father is of Egypt, thou art not, as I am not. I, a Hebrew of Syria, descended from Zedekiah, in the region beyond the Euphrates, did spoil the Egyptians of thee, by thy very birth from me. See to it, therefore, that thou take no prince of the land of Pharaoh to thy bosom, but rather one of my own Hebrew blood, which has flowed through Syria to the east, and, having at length sat on the throne of Egypt, will rise from the ends of the earth to vanquish Syria in the west." Do ye comprehend this?'

'O Asenath, we bow before thee.Thy beauty would burn the heart of the mightiest in the land.'

'Nay, I shall ever shun such fires.In that respect my mother's words take no hold upon me.For that was in the first place; in the second place, my mother's words counselling me to shun the Egyptian and wed one of her own blood mean naught to me, since I would of my own accord shun all men, both Hebrew and Egyptian.'

The seven damsels looked at one another in silence.At last one, a dark-eyed Syrian, leaned forward and spoke:

'O Asenath, hear me!Hast thou never felt a strange voice in thy heart calling for eyes like thine, and lips like wine, and strong arms to gather thee close and crush thee like a flower?'

'Never have I.Hast thou, Ashtar?'

'Never.Yet I have heard it sung in songs, when I doubt not it is the sweet music only that holds one in a close embrace till the heart beats wildly and——'

'Stay thy tongue, Ashtar,' broke in Asenath with scorn. 'Thy words strike upon the back of my head, and fall at my heels. I see the light of madness in thine eyes.'

And Ashtar, withered by her glance, hid her face in her hands and drowned that light of madness in a storm of tears.

'Tush, girl!' said Asenath, 'surely thou hast gone from thy mind to speak such words.'The others sat mute and still, fearing to sympathise with Ashtar lest they should arouse their mistress's anger still further.And yet each maiden leaned her body and turned her eyes a little—a very little—towards the culprit, for she had spoken bold words which they had never dared to frame.

'Look you,' cried Asenath, raising herself and speaking high, 'this day I learn that the first-born of Pharaoh hath desired me as wife.But I will none of him.I told his messenger that the king of Egypt would desire a greater personage than I as his son's wife, and therefore he had best look to the king of Moab, whose daughter is not only beautiful, but a queen. Faugh! I will none of them. I am a maiden, and a maiden I will remain.'

Now, although Asenath treasured her mother's memory, and for Hebrew loveliness was as beautiful as Rachel; although she liked not the Egyptians and their rule, yet, perforce, she knew no other religion than theirs. Her father had brought her up in the worship and fear of the Egyptian gods. Every day she repaired to the highest story of the tower, where, in the central chamber of twelve—a chamber splendidly adorned with rare stones of many colours and workmanship—those gods, who were many, were wrought in silver and gold, even upon the purple ceiling. There, day by day, she worshipped and feared and paid them sacrifice. This done, she would retire into a luxurious chamber which had a great window looking towards the east, and there she would sit and muse and ponder, gazing out beyond the palace courtyard and away to the lonely waters of the Nile, now plying her needle on delicate embroideries which she loved, and now playing sweet music on her lute and singing to the silver moon. Always her damsels were about her; and always the feet of men, for whom she had neither love nor fear, trod far below in the ways of the city, no foot among those thousands ever destined to tread the marble stairway leading to her palace tower.

Rich and rare were the priceless things the twelve chambers contained. Apart from treasure-rooms stocked with precious stones and rare ornaments and linen and silk of striking splendour there were broad balconies and pillared alcoves where the soft breezes rustled in the branches of great palms and the spray of clear fountains sparkled in the sunlight ere it fell to rest on a bed of moss or strayed further to caress the foliage of rare ferns nodding dreamily in deep grot or cool recess. No flower that ever delighted the eyes of king or peasant was absent from Asenath's abode, and such a fragrance hung upon the air that one had but to close one's eyes and yield to the sweet influences of Paradise.

On the day when Asenath was speaking to her maidens, as has been told already, she was reclining on a golden couch decked with purple, woven with threads of gold, while all about it and upon were set jewels that sparkled like stars in the midnight sky. She was gazing out at the great window towards the east, when suddenly she was startled by a great commotion in the courtyard below. Slaves ran hither and thither at the word of the steward of the palace. All seemed in preparation for some great event.

'It can be naught but this,' said Asenath, 'my father hath sent a messenger saying that he is returning from his country estate, having taken tale of the harvest, for the king hath decreed that Jusef, the first ruler, shall require a toll of all in this the first year of plenty.'

'Jusef, the prime ruler,' said Ashtar, 'he will come here?Then we shall see him.They say he is as beautiful as a god.'

'They say, girl? Who say?'

'The songs,' stammered Ashtar, crestfallen, 'the—the songs of love.'

'Silence, wayward one! Thou art bemused by the poets. This Jusef is a mere man like other men; was he not the son of a shepherd? Was he not a runaway? Was he not sold as a slave? Was he not cast by his master, and for some good reason, into a dungeon?'

'Yea, O my adored mistress, but was he not liberated by Pharaoh?'

'Yes, because he interpreted Pharaoh's dreams, just as any old Egyptian woman might do.Pouf!Thou art bemused!'

Then Ashtar sat in silence, gazing out at the deep blue sky. Why had this Jusef's interpretation of dreams raised him to the king's favour while that of the old Egyptian women had been unheeded? Was it because he was, as the singers sang, as beautiful as a god and possessed the spirit of a god? Ashtar could not tell. Beneath the haughty frown of Asenath she sat dumb. Then, with a sigh, she sank upon her cushions, her lips trembling.

'Ashtar is bemused,' whispered the other damsels one to another. 'Could the like happen to us?' And Asenath, catching their words, cried, 'Ashtar is a fool!Who but a fool would ever think such thoughts or speak such words?'Then, as a great sound of voices struck upon her ear, she turned again to the window.'See!See!'she exclaimed, 'a great cavalcade is approaching the gates.There at the head is my father, and—who is that beside him?What are the people crying?—"Jusef, the Prince of God!"Ah!How proudly he sits his white charger, and how brave his equipments—how splendid his retinue!say you, Ashtar, that this is the second to Pharaoh?'

'Yes, mistress, yes; this is the man Jusef, like all other men.They say he is searching for corn, not for the love of woman.'

'Then let him deal with corn,' flashed Asenath, rising.'Leave me, all of you!I would be alone.'

The damsels fled, and Asenath turned again to the window. The gates were now opened, and her father and Jusef, followed by a great retinue, rode into the courtyard. Ah! What perfect grace of form and feature! Asenath's heart almost burst for frantic beating as she looked at him. Then, in spite of herself, she drew nearer the window, and, as she gazed down, Jusef chanced to glance up. Their eyes met, and Asenath, with a pang at her heart, reeled and fell clutching at the cushions.There she lay sobbing in sudden sorrow.She had spoken bitter words against him, and now the sweet tears of repentance refreshed her anguished soul.Soon she sat up, a picture of misery, but with a glorious light in her eyes.

'Ashtar is no fool,' she murmured, clenching her hands; 'and I do not believe the tales told by the people against him. Oh! Unhappy Asenath! What is life to thee now? He comes for toll of corn, and with toll of corn he will depart, and then——'

She swung herself prone upon the cushions and wept again most bitterly.

And Jusef entered into the palace of Putiphra, and all fell down and made obeisance before him,—all except Asenath, who remained hidden in her tower. When the slave-girls had washed Jusef's feet they set food and wine before him, but on a table apart, for it was known in the land that Jusef the son of Jakub would not eat with the Egyptians, this being an abomination to him.

'My lord Putiphra,' he said, when he had refreshed himself, 'pray tell me, who is that woman I saw looking from the window of the tower?I desire not her presence here.'

Now Putiphra knew it was his daughter Asenath that Jusef had seen. He knew, also, that there was no wife nor daughter of any great man of Egypt who at sight of Jusef's beauty did not fall in evil case. Nay, further, many were the gifts of gold and silver and precious stones sent him by those who languished and were undone in heart by a single glance at him afar. Wherefore these things were a sore vexation to Jusef, who was as pure as he was beautiful.Remembering ever his father's exhortation to avoid the strange woman with a gentle and courteous denial, and to have no other communication with her, he had preserved the sweetness of his soul to God.'I pray,' he said, seeing his host was slow to answer, 'let the woman go hence, for so thou shalt earn my thanks.'

'My lord,' replied Putiphra, 'the woman thou sawest was none but mine own daughter, a pure virgin, whom no man save myself hath seen unto this day.Indeed, she hath no heart for aught but her present state, my lord.Wert thou to speak with her, thou wouldst regard her from that moment henceforth as thy sister, for in any other respect she hateth every man.'

These words pleased Jusef exceedingly.

'Then the case is different,' said he.'If she be your daughter and a maiden, hating all men save father and brother, let her come to me and she will be to me as a sister, and I will love her henceforth, even as my own sister.'

Then Putiphra went up to the tower and soon returned, leading Asenath by the hand. And when she saw Jusef her eyes were as the eyes of one that looketh into Paradise.

'Go to thy brother,' said Putiphra, 'and salute him with a kiss, for he is like thee, pure and virgin.'

Asenath advanced to Jusef, saying, 'Hail, lord, great and blessed of the Most High!' And Jusef replied, 'Hail to thee, maiden! May the Lord God, who giveth all grace and beauty, so continue to bless thee.'

But when Asenath timidly advanced still further to fulfil her father's command, and showed a sweet intent to kiss her new-found brother, Jusef saw the love-light in her eyes, though she, poor child, knew naught of it but that her heart had left her bosom and flown to his. He rose quickly from his seat, and, raising his right arm, said, 'It is not fitting that a man whose lips extol the living God should kiss a strange woman whose mouth prayeth to blocks of wood and stone, and eateth the bread of strangling, and drinketh the cup of treachery.'

When Asenath heard these words her knees trembled. Her heart returned to her own bosom and sank within it. She groaned aloud, and, as she gazed sorrowfully at Jusef, her eyes brimmed with tears. Seeing this, Jusef felt pity for her, for he was gentle and merciful. Placing his hand upon her head, he spoke: 'God of my fathers, who hast given life and light to all things, do Thou bless this maiden, and count her as one of Thy people chosen from the foundations of the world; and may she come to Thine eternal peace, pure and holy in Thy sight.'

Then the tears withdrew from Asenath's eyes as the blessing of Jusef shone upon her face. She thanked him joyfully, and, having saluted him, returned to her tower, where she threw herself upon her couch by the window, weak and trembling with joy and grief and fear and remorse.

Alas! how she had spoken of Jusef! How she had besmirched his name—called him a runaway, a guilty man who should still be in prison for his sin, a mere interpreter of dreams. Alas! and he had spurned her as a worshipper of idols and then had forgiven and blessed her, the last on earth to deserve it.

For a time she wept with a great and bitter weeping; then she rose with teeth clenched and dry eyes aflame.Rushing to the wall of the chamber she snatched a stone idol from its place and hurled it from the window into the courtyard below. She saw it fall, and heard the crash as it splintered upon the stones. 'His faith was my mothers faith,' she cried, 'and henceforth my mother's faith is mine.'

When Jusef had gathered the toll of wheat and was about to depart Putiphra besought him to tarry and abide at his palace the night and continue his journey on the following day. But Jusef replied, 'Nay, I have seven days in which I must make a circuit of the whole country, but on the eighth day I will return and take up my abode with you.'

And Jusef departed with his retinue through the palace gates; and as he went he looked not up at the window of the palace tower, nor did Asenath look down therefrom.

For seven days thereafter the sun rose and set on Asenath weeping. She neither ate nor drank, nor could her damsels console her in any way. Sleep fled from her eyes. 'Woe is me,' she would cry, smiting her breast. 'Woe to me that I have spoken evil words concerning him; whither shall I go to escape from my sorrow? Woe to me, wretched one, who hath defamed with my tongue the most beautiful son of Heaven. Oh that my father could now give me to Jusef as a slave-girl or a handmaiden, that I might serve him for ever.'

On the night of the seventh day she arose from her couch, and, passing among her damsels, who were all asleep, stole down the stairway of the tower, through the ways of the palace, and out to the great gateway.Here she found the janitor fast asleep.Without waking him, she ran to the gate and tore down the skin of the screen belonging to it.Then she sought an ash heap in a remote part of the courtyard, and, having filled the skin with ashes, returned with it to the tower.She entered her own chamber and bolted the door; then she spread the skin of ashes on the pavement by the window and fell upon it, weeping violently, and crying in broken words: 'By this do I renounce the gods of Egypt.By this do I change my heart and cleanse my lips, which, as he said, have offered prayers to idols.' And so she repented with groans and tears until the dawn was near, when she looked up towards the east and saw the morning star depending from the side of heaven, like a great lamp burning clear and sheltered from the wind, lighting her soul to the gate of forgiveness. She sat up and raised her hands towards it, when suddenly the sky opened and a wondrous light appeared. When Asenath saw it she fell on her face upon the ashes, and lo, a man strode out of heaven and stood above her, calling her by name; but she answered not, so great was her terror. Then he called her again: 'Asenath!Asenath!' and his voice was like the murmur of the four streams of Paradise.

'O my lord, who art thou?'she answered from the dust.

'I am the prince and commander of the hosts of the Lord.Arise and stand before me, for I would speak with thee.'

When Asenath raised her head and looked at the bright visitant she saw before her an angel in the form and features of Jusef, clad in a robe of dazzling purple, with a crown of gold encircling his brows, and bearing a royal staff in his hand.Then she was taken with a sudden fear, and fell again upon her face.But the Bright One of God raised her up and comforted her.

'Lift up thy heart, O Virgin Asenath,' he said, 'for thy name is written in the Book of Life and shall never be blotted out for ever and for ever. For know that thy repentance hath pleaded with the Most High as a daughter pleads with a loving father, and it is this day decreed that thou shalt be given unto Jusef as his bride. Therefore arise and change thy garments. Remove that goat's-hair girdle of sorrow from thy loins, shake the ashes from thine head, and array thyself in fine linen with ornaments fitting for the bride of a king to be. Go now, and on thy return thou wilt find me here, provided thou return alone.'

So Asenath went and woke her damsels, and bade them select the finest raiment and the brightest jewels fitting for the bride of the second to Pharaoh. No word did she say of the angel, and they wondered greatly. Ashtar alone, on looking into her mistress's eyes, saw there the light that she almost understood.

'Nay, Ashtar,' said Asenath, as the damsel's deft fingers plied their task, 'thou art not bemused.It has come to me, Ashtar; canst thou not see it?'

'Yea, beloved mistress; that can I, right well.'And as their eyes met, Ashtar's filled with tears of joy.

At last Asenath stood apparelled and adorned as befitted the bride of the second to Pharaoh. Her braided hair, a plait of which hung over her shoulder, was bound about her brows with a tiara of gold set with sparkling jewels. Gold bracelets were on her arms; a crimson sash encircled her waist; flounces of her skirts shone with a thousand diamonds and rubies; but most wonderful of all was the long, gossamer veil which fell from her shoulders and trailed on the ground: it was like the milky way of heaven, all stars, with diamond suns blazing here and there. Beauty beyond words was Asenath as she returned to the angel bearing a white flower of purity in her hand.

He was standing by the window as she entered the chamber alone and barred the door behind her.

'My lord,' she said, humbly kneeling before him, 'if now I have won favour in thine eyes, I pray thee take this flower, for thou knowest the meaning of it.It is spotless white, even as I; with a centre of gold, even as I.I pray thee take it and set it in Paradise that it may never wither.'

The angel smiled and took the flower, which he placed in his girdle. 'It will never wither,' he said. 'It is the flower that endures when all created things have passed away. When thou comest to the tree of life thou shalt find it there. Perchance thou mayst find it even here.'

Then Asenath, pondering his words in her heart, beseeched him to sit upon the couch whereon man had never sat.And she said, 'I will bring thee a meal.What wouldst thou?'

'A honeycomb,' said he.

'Alas!I have no honeycomb.'And she was sorrowful.

'Go thou into thy cellar,' said the angel, 'and thou wilt find a honeycomb.'

Wondering, she went to the cellar, and found a honeycomb there upon the table.It was as white as snow and had the combined fragrance of all the flowers that bloom on hillside and plain.And she returned to him with the honeycomb, saying, 'My lord, as thou spakest, so it was, and the fragrance of it is as the breath of thy presence.'

'Blessed art thou,' said the angel, laying his hand tenderly upon her hair; 'thou hast cast away thine idols and hast turned to the living God.Thou hast come to me in penitence, and shalt now eat of this honeycomb which was gathered and made by the bees of God from the red roses of Eden.It is the food of angels, and those who eat it can never die.'

With this he brake a portion from the honeycomb and set it to her lips, saying, 'Eat, and thy youth shall not fail, thy beauty shall not fall away, thy breasts shall not wither, and thou shalt come at last, in eternal youth, before the throne of God.'

Asenath ate the morsel of honeycomb, and immediately her face was radiant with the glory of heaven.

'See,' said the angel, touching the broken honeycomb, 'it is now whole as before.' Then he rose up, and with his finger traced a line upon the honeycomb from east to west, and another from north to south; and the lines stood out as red as the blood shed on the cross erected upon the foundations of the world. And, as Asenath looked upon it, there came forth from the comb a multitude of bees with purple wings; and they swarmed around her with incessant life, and, swiftly speeding to and from the gardens of Paradise, deposited in the bosom of her dress a honeycomb as white as snow.

'This,' said the angel, 'shall be a sign to thee of sweetness for ever.' And, as at his command, the bees flew eastward to Eden; then he touched the honeycomb, and it was immediately consumed by flames; but the fragrance of that burning was like the marriage of honey with fire. It rose into the nostrils of Asenath and overcame her senses. Relinquishing all hold on earthly life, she threw up her arms and sank back upon the couch, where she lay like a beautiful soul fallen dead at the very gates of Paradise.

On the slanting rays of dawn the angel took his way eastwards. Then up rose the sun of the eighth day since Jusef's departure. A cavalcade approached the gates of the palace.

'Ho, within!'

The gates open and there is rushing to and fro. A man, as lordly as the sun, a white flower with a heart of gold in his girdle, rides in, followed by a retinue found only in the wake of kings. It is JusefMaddened by a dream, he looks up at the window of the palace tower, but the beautiful face that has showed before shows there no more.Love speeds his footsteps.He has right to command.Where—where is she?

Asenath upon her couch wakes from oblivion at a touch. Who is this standing over her? The angel, yea, the angel, for there is her flower still in his girdle. But how? —and why? —it seems not right; his lips pressed close to hers, his arms around her in a wild embrace——

'Asenath! my bride!'