The death of Malek-Chah took place unexpectedly soon after that of Nizam-el-Moulk, and Hassan, hastening to profit by some experiments of the celebrated Sultan Sandjar, Malek-Chah's successor, there were incessant wars in the different branches of the House of Seldjoukides, wars which prolonged themselves until the death of Tougroul III., or from forty to forty-five years. Sultan Sandjar, rightly disturbed at the progress of Hassan's invasion, resolved to entirely destroy a band of brigands in his territory, whose depredations and murders had spread terror in all the provinces. To this end, he re-organized an army with which he marched in person against the aggressors; but, arrived at a certain distance from Mount Alamout, he saw one morning, upon waking, a dagger sunk in the earth near the bolster of his bed, whose blade pierced a note addressed to him, where he read, with fright, these words: «O Sandjar! know that if I had not wished to respect your days, the hand which sunk this dagger in the earth could as well have sunk it in your heart.» It is said that the Sultan was so overcome by the reading of this note, which revealed to him the marvellous power of Hassan-Sebbah over his trusty followers, that he relinquished for the time being his plan of attack. But let us return to Khayyam, who, remaining a stranger to all these alternatives of wars, intrigues, and revolts with which this epoch was so filled, lived tranquilly in his native village, giving himself up to a passionate study of the philosophy of the Sufis. Surrounded by numerous friends he sought with them, in study and entertainment, that ecstatic contemplation which others believe that they find in uttering cries and screams until the voice is gone, as the crying dervishes do; or in the circular movements that are practiced with frenzy until vertigo ensues, as by the whirling dervishes; or finally, in the atrocious tortures which the Hindoos inflict upon themselves, until they lose consciousness. The Persian historians state that Khayyam loved especially to converse and drink with his friends, in the moonlight on a terrace before his house, seated upon a carpet, surrounded by singers and musicians, with a cup-bearer, who, cup in hand, presented it in turn to the joyous guests. We believe we cannot better terminate this rapid biographical and historic sketch than in adding to the life and works of our poet two very characteristic quotations. During one of these evenings of which we are speaking, there suddenly came a gust of wind which extinguished the candles and overturned the pitcher of wine that was imprudently placed too near the edge of the terrace. The pitcher was broken and the wine spilled. Immediately Khayyam, irritated, improvised this impious quatrain, addressed to the All-Powerful: