Thus (said Alb, when he had finished the story of his adventure), I
restored the Princess, with the assistance of the One-Armed Sorcerer
whom I have mentioned, and in gratitude the King took the One-Armed
Sorcerer to dwell with him in his castle in our own city, and promised
to me the hand of the Princess in marriage when I should come of age.
Truly things were going well with me.
_A Trifling Incident Disturbs Alb’s Mother_
Some two years later, when I was just past my eighteenth birthday,
an incident occurred in our household which caused my mother much
disturbance. My father died. He had left the house on horseback in
the morning, for a journey to the country on a matter pertaining to
his business. In the evening, after the shop was closed, a loud knock
brought my mother and myself to the door in haste. A crowd was gathered
at the entrance, and on a litter carried by two men lay my father’s
body; and in this manner he was borne into the shop. His horse had
thrown him and his neck was broken.
My mother threw herself upon him and wailed. She tried to arouse him;
she talked to him as if he were alive; she even went so far as to try
to call him back to life. I was at first greatly astonished at her
behavior, and then it struck me as being excessively ridiculous. To
think of trying to call back the dead to life! It was highly amusing. I
felt a tide of merriment rising within me. I laughed.
I have never seen on any human being’s face the look of horror which my
mother turned on me when she heard my laugh. She crouched away from me
in fear. Her sobbing ceased, and her eyes remained fixed on me; they
grew wider and wider; I began to wonder how long they could stare so
without winking. I glanced at the others in the room, and was surprised
to see that no one else even so much as smiled. It was useless to
remain longer in a company so dead to the brighter things of life.
I controlled my good humor and composed my features, and patted my
mother affectionately on the shoulder; but she recoiled from my touch;
and without appearing to take her inconsiderate behavior in ill part in
the least, I left the room.
_Unreasonable Conduct of the Goldsmith’s Widow_
It astonished me afterward to observe that my mother met my customary
gayety with coldness, for she had always seemed to take great pleasure
in it. She grew very gloomy indeed. I could not discover any reason for
it, but I did what I could to cheer her by my own liveliness. For some
reason or other, my father’s death appeared to have a depressing effect
on her. I made my jokes and sang my songs as usual, but she reached
such a state in a few months that she would scarcely speak to me, but
on the contrary spent most of her time in her room, alone.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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