The oriental story book : $b a collection of talesHauff, Wilhelm
General
The oriental story book : $b a collection of tales
Hauff, Wilhelm
Caravans -- Juvenile fiction; Children's stories, German -- Translations into English; Fairy tales
On the evening preceding our voyage, my father conducted me into his
sleeping apartment; there I saw fine garments and weapons lying on the
table; but what most attracted my eye was a large pile of gold, for I
had never before seen so much together. My father embraced me, and
said,
"See, my son, I have provided thee with garments for thy journey.
These weapons are thine; they are those which thy grandfather hung
upon me, when I went forth into foreign lands. I know thou canst wield
them; but use them not, unless thou art attacked; then, however, lay
on with right good-will. My wealth is not great; see! I have divided
it into three parts: one is thine; one shall be for my support, and
spare money in case of necessity; the third shall be sacred and
untouched by me, it may serve thee in the hour of need." Thus spoke my
old father, while tears hung in his eyes, perhaps from a presentiment,
for I have never seen him since.
Our voyage was favorable; we soon reached the land of the Franks, and
six days' journey brought us to the large city, Paris. Here my French
friend hired me a room, and advised me to be prudent in spending my
money, which amounted to two thousand thalers. In this city I lived
three years, and learned all that a well-educated physician should
know. I would be speaking falsely, however, if I said that I was very
happy, for the customs of the people pleased me not; moreover, I had
but few good friends among them, but these were young men of
nobility.
The longing after my native land at length became irresistible; during
the whole time I had heard nothing from my father, and I therefore
seized a favorable opportunity to return home. There was going an
embassy from France to the Supreme Porte: I agreed to join the train
of the ambassador as surgeon, and soon arrived once more at Stamboul.
My father's dwelling, however, I found closed, and the neighbors,
astonished at seeing me, said that my father had been dead for two
months. The priest, who had instructed me in youth, brought me the
key. Alone and forsaken, I entered the desolate house. I found all as
my father had left it; but the gold which he promised to leave to me,
was missing. I inquired of the priest respecting it, and he bowed and
said:
"Your father died like a holy man, for he left his gold to the
Church!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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