One day he thought he would go to her own palace and see if he could
learn anything there, so he went out to her garden-house. It was a very
splendid place, with a wonderful gateway, and walls like Alexander’s
ramparts. Many gate-keepers were on guard, and there was no chance of
passing them. His heart was full of bitterness, but he said to himself:
“All will be well! it is here I shall get what I want.” He went round
outside the garden wall hoping to find a gap, and he made supplication
in the Court of Supplications and prayed, “O Holder of the hand of the
helpless! show me my way.”
While he prayed he bethought himself that he could get into the garden
with a stream of inflowing water. He looked carefully round, fearing to
be seen, stripped, slid into the stream and was carried within the
great walls. There he hid himself till his loin cloth was dry. The
garden was a very Eden, with running water amongst its lawns, with
flowers and the lament of doves and the jug-jug of nightingales. It was
a place to steal the senses from the brain, and he wandered about and
saw the house, but there seemed to be no one there. In the forecourt
was a royal seat of polished jasper, and in the middle of the platform
was a basin of purest water that flashed like a mirror. He pleased
himself with these sights for a while, and then went back to the garden
and hid himself from the gardeners and passed the night. Next morning
he put on the appearance of a madman and wandered about till he came to
a lawn where several pert-faced girls were amusing themselves. On a
throne, jewelled and overspread with silken stuffs, sat a girl the
splendour of whose beauty lighted up the place, and whose ambergris and
attar perfumed the whole air. “That must be Mihrafruz,” he thought,
“she is indeed lovely.” Just then one of the attendants came to the
water’s edge to fill a cup, and though the prince was in hiding, his
face was reflected in the water. When she saw this image she was
frightened, and let her cup fall into the stream, and thought, “Is it
an angel, or a peri, or a man?” Fear and trembling took hold of her,
and she screamed as women scream. Then some of the other girls came and
took her to the princess who asked: “What is the matter, pretty one?”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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