Arab countries -- Fiction; Fantasy fiction; Gothic fiction; Middle East -- Fiction
It fell out this evening that after leaving the Caliph in the meadow, she
ran with Gulchenrouz over the green sward of the mountain that sheltered
the vale, where Fakreddin had chosen to reside. The sun was dilated on
the edge of the horizon; and the young people, whose fancies were lively
and inventive, imagined they beheld in the gorgeous clouds of the west
the domes of Shadukiam and Ambreabad, where the Peries have fixed their
abode. Nouronihar, sitting on the slope of the hill, supported on her
knees the perfumed head of Gulchenrouz. The air was calm, and no sound
stirred but the voices of other young girls who were drawing cool water
from the streams below. The unexpected arrival of the Caliph, and the
splendour that marked his appearance, had already filled with emotion the
ardent soul of Nouronihar. Her vanity irresistibly prompted her to pique
the prince’s attention, and this she before took good care to effect
whilst he picked up the jasamine she had thrown upon him. But when
Gulchenrouz asked after the flowers he had culled for her bosom,
Nouronihar was all in confusion. She hastily kissed his forehead, arose
in a flutter, and walked with unequal steps on the border of the
precipice. Night advanced, and the pure gold of the setting sun had
yielded to a sanguine red, the glow of which, like the reflection of a
burning furnace, flushed Nouronihar’s animated countenance. Gulchenrouz
alarmed at the agitation of his cousin, said to her with a supplicating
accent:
“Let us be gone; the sky looks portentious: the tamarisks tremble more
than common; and the raw wind chills my very heart. Come, let us be
gone, ’tis a melancholy night.”
Then taking hold of her hand he drew it towards the path he besought her
to go. Nouronihar unconsciously followed the attraction, for a thousand
strange imaginations occupied her spirit. She passed the large round of
honeysuckles, her favourite resort, without ever vouchsafing it a glance,
yet Gulchenrouz could not help snatching off a few shoots in his way,
though he ran as if a wild beast were behind.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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