Then, with ill words, twelve negroes dragged in a lovely woman,
fettered on hands and feet and meanly dressed, and they set her down on
the bare floor. She was extraordinarily beautiful, and shamed the
glorious sun. The king ordered a hundred stripes to be laid on her
tender body; she sighed a long sigh. Food was called for and
table-cloths were spread. Delicate meats were set before the dog, and
water given it in a royal cup of Chinese crystal. When it had eaten its
fill, its leavings were placed before the lovely woman and she was made
to eat of them. She wept and her tears were pearls; she smiled and her
lips shed roses. Pearls and flowers were gathered up and taken to the
treasury.
“Now,” said the king, “you have seen these things and your purpose is
fulfilled.” “Truly,” said the prince, “I have seen things which I have
not understood; what do they mean, and what is the story of them? Tell
me and kill me.”
Then said the king: “The woman you see there in chains is my wife; she
is called Gul, the Rose, and I am Sinaubar, the Cypress. One day I was
hunting and became very thirsty. After great search I discovered a well
in a place so secret that neither bird nor beast nor man could find it
without labour. I was alone, I took my turban for a rope and my cap for
a bucket. There was a good deal of water, but when I let down my rope,
something caught it, and I could not in any way draw it back. I shouted
down into the well: ‘O! servant of God! whoever you are, why do you
deal unfairly with me? I am dying of thirst, let go! in God’s name.’ A
cry came up in answer, ‘O servant of God! we have been in the well a
long time; in God’s name get us out!’ After trying a thousand schemes,
I drew up two blind women. They said they were peris, and that their
king had blinded them in his anger and had left them in the well alone.
“‘Now,’ they said, ‘if you will get us the cure for our blindness we
will devote ourselves to your service, and will do whatever you wish.’
“‘What is the cure for your blindness?’
“‘Not far from this place,’ they said, ‘a cow comes up from the great
sea to graze; a little of her dung would cure us. We should be
eternally your debtors. Do not let the cow see you, or she will
assuredly kill you.’
“With renewed strength and spirit I went to the shore. There I watched
the cow come up from the sea, graze, and go back. Then I came out of my
hiding, took a little of her dung and conveyed it to the peris. They
rubbed it on their eyes, and by the Divine might saw again.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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