The Arabian Nights Entertainments by - (carter reed TXT) 📕

same opinion, and therefore we ought to undertake this conquest; for the importance and singularity of the undertaking deserve that name. I will take that charge upon myself; only tell me the place, and the way to it, and I will defer my journey no longer than till tomorrow.”

“Brother,” said prince Perviz, “it is not proper that you, who are the head and director of our family, should be absent. I desire my sister would join with me to oblige you to abandon your design, and allow me to undertake it. I hope to acquit myself as well as you, and it will be a more regular proceeding.” “I am persuaded of your good-will, brother,” replied prince Bahman, “and that you would succeed as well as myself in this journey; but I have resolved, and will undertake it. You shall stay at home with our sister, and I need not recommend her to you.” He spent the remainder of the day in making preparations for his journey, and informing himself from the princess of the directions which the devout woman had left her.

The next morning Bahman mounted his horse, and Perviz and the princess embraced, and wished him a good journey. But in the midst of their adieus, the princess recollected what she had not thought of before. “Brother,” said she, “I had quite forgotten the accidents which attend travellers. Who knows whether I shall ever see you again? Alight, I beseech you, and give up this journey. I would rather be deprived of the sight and possession of the speaking bird, singing tree, and yellow water, than run the risk of never seeing you more.”

“Sister,” replied Bahman, smiling at the sudden fears of the princess, “my resolution is fixed, but were it not, I should determine upon it now, and you must allow me to execute it. The accidents you speak of befall only those who are unfortunate; but there are more who are not so. However, as events are uncertain, and I may fail in this undertaking, all I can do is to leave you this knife.”

Bahman, pulling a knife from his vestband, and presenting it in the sheath to the princess, said, “Take this knife, sister, and give yourself the trouble sometimes to pull it out of the sheath: while you see it clean as it is now, it will be a sign that I am alive; but if you find it stained with blood, then you may believe me dead, and indulge me with your prayers.”

The princess could obtain nothing more of Bahman. He bade adieu to her and prince Perviz for the last time, and rode away. When he got into the road he never turned to the right hand nor to the left, but went direftly forward towards India. The twentieth day he perceived on the road side a hideous old man, who sat under a tree some small distance from a thatched house, which was his retreat from the weather.

His eyebrows were as white as snow, as was also the hair of his head; his whiskers covered his mouth, and his beard and hair reached down to his feet. The nails of his hands and feet were grown to an extensive length; a flat broad umbrella covered his head. He had no clothes, but only a mat thrown round his body.

This old man was a dervish, for many years retired from the world, to give himself up entirely to the service of God; so that at last be became what we have described.

Prince Bahman, who had been all that morning very attentive to see if he could meet with any body who could give him information of the place he was in search of, stopped when he came near the dervish, alighted, in conformity to the directions which the devout woman had given the princess Perie-zadeh, and leading his horse by the bridle, advanced towards him, and saluting him, said, “God prolong your days, good father, and grant you the accomplishment of your desires.”

The dervish returned the prince’s salutation, but so unintelligibly that he could not understand one word he said: prince Bahman perceiving that this difficulty proceeded from the dervish’s whiskers hanging over his mouth, and unwilling to go any farther without the instructions he wanted, pulled out a pair of scissors he had about him, and having tied his horse to a branch of the tree, said, “Good dervish, I want to have some talk with you: but your whiskers prevent my understanding what you say: and if you will consent, I will cut off some part of them and of your eyebrows, which disfigure you so much that you look more like a bear than a man.”

The dervish did not oppose the offer; and when the prince had cut off as much hair as he thought fit, he perceived that the dervish had a good complexion, and that he did not seem so old as he really was. “Good dervish,” said he, “if I had a glass I would shew you how young you look: you are now a man, but before nobody could tell what you were.”

The kind behaviour of prince Bahman made the dervish smile, and return his compliment. “Sir,” said he, “whoever you are, I am obliged by the good office you have performed, and am ready to shew my gratitude by doing any thing in my power for you. You must have alighted here upon some account or other. Tell me what it is, and I will endeavour to serve you.”

“Good dervish,” replied prince Bahman, “I am in search of the speaking bird, the singing tree, and the yellow water; I know these three rarities are not far from hence, but cannot tell exactly the place where they are to be found; if you know, I conjure you to shew me the way, that I may not lose my labour after so long a journey.”

The prince, while he spoke, observed that the dervish changed countenance, held down his eyes, looked very serious, and instead of making any reply, remained silent; which obliged him to say to him again, “Good father, I fancy you heard me; tell me whether you know what I ask you, that I may not lose my time, but inform myself somewhere else.”

At last the dervish broke silence. “Sir,” said he to prince Bahman, “I know the way you ask of me; but the regard which I conceived for you the first moment I saw you, and which is grown stronger by the service you have done me, kept me in suspense, whether I should give you the satisfaction you desire.” “What motive can hinder you?” replied the prince; “and what difficulties do you find in so doing?” “I will tell you,” replied the dervish; “the danger you are going to expose yourself to is greater than you may suppose. A number of gentlemen of as much bravery and courage as you can possibly possess have passed this way, and asked me the same question. When I had used all my endeavours to persuade them to desist, they would not believe me; at last, I yielded, to their importunities; I was compelled to shew them the way, and I can assure you they have all perished, for I have not seen one come back. Therefore, if you have any regard for your life, take my advice, go no farther, but return home.”

Prince Bahman persisted in his resolution. “I will not suppose,”

said he to the dervish, “but that your advice is sincere. I am obliged to you for the friendship you express for me; but whatever may be the danger, nothing shall make me change my intention: whoever attacks me, I am well armed, and can say I am as brave as any one.” “But they who will attack you are not to be seen,” replied the dervish; “how will you defend yourself against invisible persons?” “It is no matter,” answered the prince; “all you say shall not persuade me to do any thing contrary to my duty. Since you know the way, I conjure you once more to inform me.”

When the dervish found he could not prevail upon prince Bahman, and that he was obstinately bent to pursue his journey notwithstanding his friendly remonstrance, he put his hand into a bag that lay by him and pulled out a bowl, which he presented to him. “Since I cannot prevail on you to attend to my advice,” said he, “take this bowl; when you are on horseback throw it before you, and follow it to the foot of a mountain, where it will stop.

As soon as the bowl stops, alight, leave your horse with the bridle over his neck, and he will stand in the same place till you return. As you ascend you will see on your right and left a great number of large black stones, and will hear on all sides a confusion of voices, which will utter a thousand injurious abuses to discourage you, and prevent your reaching the summit of the mountain. Be not afraid; but above all things, do not turn your head to look behind you; for in that instant you will be changed into such a black stone as those you see, which are all youths who have failed in this enterprise. If you escape the danger of which I give you but a faint idea, and get to the top of the mountain, you will see a cage, and in that cage is the bird you seek; ask him which are the singing tree and the yellow water, and he will tell you. I have nothing more to say; this is what you have to do, and the danger you have to avoid; but if you are prudent, you will take my advice, and not expose your life.

Consider once more while you have time that the difficulty is almost insuperable.”

“I am obliged to you for your repeated advice,” replied prince Bahman, after he had received the bowl, “but cannot follow it.

However, I will endeavour to conform myself to that part of it which bids me not look behind me as I shall ascend the mountain, and I hope to come and see you again soon, and thank you when I have obtained what I am seeking.” After these words, to which the dervish made no other answer than that he should be overjoyed to see him again, the prince mounted his horse, took his leave of the dervish with a respectful salute, and threw the bowl before him.

The bowl rolled away unceasingly with as much swiftness as when prince Bahman first hurled it from his hand, which obliged him to put his horse to the same pace to avoid losing sight of it, and when it had reached the foot of the mountain it stopped. The prince alighted from his horse, laid the bridle on his neck; and having first surveyed the mountain, and seen the black stones, began to ascend; but had not gone four steps, before he heard the voices mentioned by the dervish, though he could see nobody. Some said, “Where is that fool going? where is he going? what would he have? do not let him pass.” Others, “Stop him, catch him, kill him;” and others with a voice like thunder, “Thief! assassin!

murderer!” while some in a gibing tone cried, “No, no, do not hurt him; let the pretty fellow pass, the cage and bird are kept for him.”

Notwithstanding all these troublesome voices, prince Bahman ascended with courage and resolution for some time, but the voices redoubled with so loud a din near him, both behind and before, that at last he was seized with dread, his legs trembled under him, he staggered, and finding that his strength failed him, he forgot the dervish’s advice, turned about