succeed if the proper means be employed in its pursuit. A kingdom is gained by valour and a good army; and, thanks be to God, I possess both, and prosperity will second my efforts. Indeed, which of my ancestors ever debased himself by trading? I cannot live in such an unworthy manner; for voluntarily to descend from a high to a lower position is against common sense and betokens a mean disposition. In these regions there are many towns and principalities which I may easily conquer, and in truth most of the royal personages who attained great fame began only on a small scale and enlarged their possessions by degrees.” After this Kasharkasha travelled from place to place in the country of the Franks, seeking for an opportunity to carry out his design. One day he approached a great city, and beheld an army composed entirely of cavalry, which belonged to the king of the city, who, on discovering the squadron of Kasharkasha, imagined it to be that of an enemy and sent a messenger to make inquiries. The young prince stated to the envoy that he was a merchant from Hindústán, and in his turn asked some questions, to which the envoy replied: “This is Tytmyran, and this is the Jalyák of Tytmyran, who is on a hunting excursion.” When the messenger returned with the answer of the young prince, the Jalyák of Tytmyran rode to visit Kasharkasha, who met him half-way and saluted him courteously, because the lamp of politeness emits so great a glare as to conceal and overshadow any plans that men harbour in their minds.
On seeing the courteous demeanour of Kasharkasha the Jalyák at once concluded that he could not but be of lofty birth, and invited him to make an excursion into the surrounding country. The young prince gracefully complied, and their intimacy increased more and more during the day. They came to a high building, near which the king alighted, and went into it. After a short space he again came out, and in tears. Kasharkasha asked the cause of his grief, but the king replied that on another occasion he would acquaint him with the particulars. When they entered the city a suitable place was assigned to the young prince and his followers, and the king taking the hand of Kasharkasha thus addressed him: “Every man bears in his countenance signs of his character, and in our first interview I discovered you to be of noble descent and the scion of a royal family. I also had a son of extraordinary beauty and accomplishments. He was very fond of hunting and roaming everywhere, and once he took leave of me for two months and departed with a number of trustworthy attendants. I counted the days of his absence impatiently, and when the time for his return elapsed I dreaded that some misfortune had befallen my son, and despatched some of my officers in search of him, all of whom returned without success. I was so overpowered by melancholy that I wept day and night, until at last, after a whole year had passed, my son made his appearance quite alone, in a destitute condition and almost naked. As soon as I saw him I exclaimed: ‘Beloved son, how has the dust of this languidness settled on the skirts of your happy disposition? and how has your beauty faded? What has become of your servants and goods?’
“My son replied: ‘Dear father, my heart suffers from a wound which no medicine can cure. Do not ask me any questions, because my case is a sad one.’ Then he took from his bosom a portrait, which he contemplated, saying:
‘When I began to worship the person of my love,
My soul ascended to my lips and I lost my peace.
A ray of love’s favour had alighted on my head,
But, alas! I have lost my love!’
‘Dear father,’ he continued, ‘after we embarked in our boat we sailed pleasantly for almost a week, when a contrary wind arose and we lost all control over our vessel. Thus we were tossed about during forty days, when the tempest ceased and we came in sight of land. We made haste to go on shore, but we knew not to what country or nation it belonged. We strolled about and came to a beautiful meadow luxuriant with vegetation, where we hunted and thus advanced till we arrived at a cultivated tract of land in which was a magnificent palace. On asking a man for information regarding this country he answered: “You are in Kashmír, and that palace is the abode of the daughter of Khoja Fayssur, the vazír of Kashmír. She is wont to pass a few months here every year during the season of flowers.” In one of my rambles I chanced to meet a lady of exquisite beauty, and though I had fallen in love with her I did not dare to address her, but sent her a fervent declaration of my love through an old woman, requesting the favour of an interview. The reply which I received was most discouraging; nevertheless I continued my rambles in the grounds of the palace to enjoy the happiness of an occasional glance at my idol. While I was thus standing one day, she dropped a paper from above, and on opening it I found it contained her portrait. This was a great joy to me, but it was soon turned to grief when I heard that the lady had departed to the city. I could do nothing better than follow her and endeavour to obtain a meeting. At last my passion became a mania, and as I cared nothing for money affairs my attendants gradually deserted me, so that I was at last left alone and fell into a state of the utmost destitution. The dominant idea, however, still supported me that I should yet be happy although at present a houseless beggar in the streets. One night the police were about to seize me, but I ran off at the top of my speed and sought refuge in a house, exclaiming: “Is there anyone here who possesses kindness enough to save a man from the whirlpool of misery?” A person opened the door and admitted me, saying: “Rest yourself here this night, and trust in the mercy of God.” I was tired and reclined against the wall, when suddenly I heard the tones of a harp and of a woman’s voice in the adjoining apartment, and my curiosity prompted me to look through an aperture at the scene. I beheld a húrí-like maiden playing on a harp and warbling like a nightingale. The amorous melody and the tones of the instrument produced such an enervating effect on me that I could no longer stand, and falling on the floor, which was of weak construction, it gave way and I was precipitated with it on the master of the house, who was sitting in the room below, and he was killed on the spot. The girl who had been singing rose up and cried: “A robber has killed my master!” This soon brought all the neighbours into the house: they instantly seized and bound me, and gave me so many blows that my whole body was a mass of bruises. Then I was dragged before the Amír, who ordered me to be taken to prison. It chanced that the jailer was a man who had formerly been in my service, and he burst into tears on seeing me in such a condition. When I had informed him of my reason for coming to Kashmír and of the unhappy accident, he said: “Fear nothing—you are safe.” He dressed me in other clothes and sent me out to a friend of his own; while he put my garments on the corpse of a man who had died that day and been buried in the cemetery. When the police came in the morning to take me before the Amír to be beheaded, they were disappointed, and reported that the culprit had been so severely beaten on being captured that he had died during the night. The Amír remarked: “If the man was innocent, the guilt of his death cannot be attached to me,” to which the chief of the police rejoined: “That is true; but the people had no right to kill the man. This affair ought not to be lightly regarded, for those who beat him are guilty of murder.” The Amír then ordered him to carefully investigate the whole affair. Accordingly the chief of the police assembled all the inhabitants of that quarter of the town, intending to fine each one of them in a sum of money, and having caused the corpse to be brought before him, he said: “Ye impudent fellows, how many kings or governments are in this city?” They replied: “One.” He continued: “If there be but one king here, why have you taken justice in your own hand and killed this man?” The people asked in amazement: “Whom have we killed?” “This man,” said he, “who was captured on suspicion of being a robber and whom you have ill-treated so as to cause his death.” But when the people looked at the dead man they declared: “This is not the robber whom we seized and beat. He was a young man of fair complexion and having black hair; of strong make and healthy appearance. This is the body of a man who was of middle age and sickly; we know not who has killed him.” Quoth the superintendent: “There is no use in denying the matter,” and he called for the instruments of torture for the purpose of eliciting a confession; when one of the bystanders, having examined the features of the corpse, suddenly cried out: “This is my father, Khoja Fays, the gladiator, who not long since performed before the Amír of Kabúl, and returning home, drank some arrack, which gave him the colic, so that he was obliged to take to his bed. He was visited by some friends, who advised him to send for Ratyl the glazier, who is so famed for his skill that he excels all the physicians of the age. I brought him to the bedside of my father, and he prescribed something which was of no avail: my father died, and we buried him.” Here the superintendent exclaimed: “You