sent a man to him to sue for her hand in your behalf—be of good cheer.” Kasharkasha was highly pleased, and the Khoja amused him until the time required by the law was expired. Then he sent for the Kází, and Kasharkasha was married to the lady in due form. In the evening the Khoja led his former wife to the apartments of the prince; and, when she beheld the unparalleled beauty and comeliness of her new husband, she whispered to the Khoja: “Although you have divorced me, I thank God that I am to be the spouse of this youth.” When the Khoja had taken his leave, the prince asked the lady: “What did you just now whisper to the Khoja?” She replied: “Young man, I was the wife of the Khoja and we lived together very happily, but he has without any cause divorced me and married me to you; so I said to him, when I beheld you, and he had no longer any power over me: ‘Although you have divorced me without cause, I am delighted to be the wife of this young man, who seems to be a great deal better than yourself.’ ” As soon as Kasharkasha learned that she had been the wife of the Khoja he drew the hand of refusal over the breast of his desires and said:
“To overcome one’s own lust is victory;
To master one’s own passion is bravery indeed.
God forbid that I should touch this woman, for I consider her unlawful to me.” So he slept that night alone, and in the morning apologised to her, saying: “I was somewhat indisposed and unable to keep your company. Pray have patience for a few days till I recover fully.”
In this manner some days passed, when the prince, conversing with the Khoja about his own country, said to him: “It is now a long time since I left my dear father, and though I have in your company and by your kind services forgotten all my misfortunes, I nevertheless feel a very great desire to rejoin him.” Therefore the Khoja loaded twenty strings of camels with costly goods and sent them under the care of fifty trustworthy slaves with Kasharkasha. Taking affectionate leave of his benefactor and promising always most gratefully to remember his great kindness, the prince departed on the road to Fars. When he arrived in the vicinity of the capital he sent the glad tidings to his father, who hastened to meet him. They entered the city together, and King Farídún was so rejoiced at the happy event that he opened his treasury and distributed much money among the people. After some time he abdicated the government in favour of his beloved son, and died, leaving him his sole heir and successor.
In the meantime Kasharkasha’s kind-hearted benefactor suffered a reverse of fortune. One day Sadullah was informed that an agent whom he had despatched to Hindústán was returned, but had been shipwrecked and lost everything. The Khoja piously observed: “He from whose favour all that is in this world depends is able to make good this loss.” But a week later news reached him that another of his agents had been plundered by robbers. Soon after this second calamity the Khalíf of Baghdád died, and was succeeded by Mutassim,[38] who had long nourished ill-will against the Khoja, therefore he confiscated all the merchant’s property. Khoja Sadullah, now reduced to absolute poverty, determined to go to Fars and take refuge with Kasharkasha. He contrived to collect a sum of money among the merchants for the expenses of his journey, and quitting Baghdád proceeded as far as Tabríz, where he fell sick and spent all his little store of money. At last he recovered his health, but being unable to proceed on his journey he resolved to apply to the Amír for some assistance. During the preceding night a robbery had been committed in the Amír’s treasury, and a number of suspected persons were brought to the palace, among whom Sadullah unwittingly took his place, and was along with them committed to prison to await the trial. They were all kept in confinement for several months, and tortured daily to draw from them acknowledgment of their guilt, until at length the real thieves were discovered in another quarter and the suspected persons were all discharged.
With a broken heart Sadullah resumed his journey to Fars, and chanced to arrive at the royal palace at the time when Kasharkasha was holding a levee and receiving petitions from his subjects. He entered the hall of audience and made his obeisance, but, as Kasharkasha did not recognise him in his wretched plight, Sadullah’s salutation was not returned. After trying in vain to attract the notice of the king, Sadullah stepped a little apart from the crowd and thus addressed Kasharkasha: “O King, why does your highness disdain to look at me? I am Khoja Sadullah, the merchant, of Baghdád, who was always devoted to your family. But now fortune has turned its face from me, and I am come to seek refuge at your court.” The king turned to one of the attendants and said: “Give one hundred of the government sheep in charge of this man, and give him also two loaves every day.” Then he said to Sadullah: “My good friend, we have appointed you to be one of our shepherds; take good care of your flock.” Khoja Sadullah thought this proceeding very strange, and said to himself: “What meanness is this on the part of the king, to appoint me to be a shepherd! However, though I have occupied a high station, I must obey and perform the duties of a shepherd till something better turns up.” So he took a staff, a sling, a bag, and a dog, and went every day with the other shepherds to pasture his flock, and soon learned the business. But an epidemic broke out which carried off daily several of his sheep until every one had perished. Then thought Sadullah: “Since my entire flock has died, it seems that I am not even fit to be a shepherd.” One day the king observed the Khoja approaching with a great load on his back, and asked him: “How are the sheep?” Quoth Sadullah: “May the flock of the king’s health and comfort be always on the increase and remain unscathed by the touch of the wolf of misfortune, and abide under the protection of the Shepherd of divine favour! Thanks to my unlucky destiny, an epidemic has carried off all the sheep, and I have brought their brands.” The king smiled and said: “Give him another hundred sheep.” These, however, also died, and likewise a third hundred, so that the Khoja was ashamed to show his face. But the fourth flock entrusted to him became more plump every day; no evil befell them; all the ewes threw twin lambs; and when the king next called for the Khoja he made his appearance with a number of sprightly and nimble lambs, and a quantity of butter, cheese, and milk. The king said to him: “O Khoja, what do you now think of your sheep?” He answered: “May the game of prosperity and the fawn of life remain within the grasp of the brave lion of the king’s happiness, as long as the flock of stars browse in the meadow of the sky, and as long as the sun continues to travel in the firmament! Thanks be to the Most High, by the blessing of the king’s good fortune, the contrary wind of my ill-luck has become appeased, the lamp of success has been kindled, the sheep of the king are all safe and sound, and my disgrace is wiped off.” At these words the king rose from his place, fell on the Khoja’s neck, and exclaimed: “Dear friend, your fate had taken such a mischievous turn that had I entrusted you with my kingdom you would have lost it, and it was prudent to wait till your luck changed. It was against my will that I kept you in so mean an occupation until that calamity withdrew its foot from the circle of your destiny. But now the obscurity of misfortune has disappeared and the light of prosperity illumines the speculum of your hopes. Do whatever you please; you are welcome to govern my kingdom.” So saying, he seated the Khoja on the throne of intimacy, overwhelmed him every moment with renewed kindness, and said to him: “I have a foster-sister seated within the curtains of innocence and modesty; if you marry her you will oblige me greatly.” The Khoja consented, and was for the second time espoused to his own wife. When night set in the lady was brought to the Khoja, who recognised her with no little astonishment, exclaiming: “My love, I meet you again!” Said the lady: “Khoja, the prince learnt the first night the true circumstances and has never touched me, or even seen my face till the moment when he surrendered me back to you.” Kasharkasha made the Khoja his vazír, and they all lived happily together for many years until they at last quaffed the beverage of death, left this rewardless abode, and departed to the mansions of eternal joy.
When Khayrandísh had concluded this story he said: “Nassar, I have related this narrative to impress on your mind that self-conceit and presumptuousness are very great obstacles to happiness. Had Prince Kasharkasha followed the advice of his minister Bihrúz when he succeeded to the kingdom of Tytmyran, and not attacked Futtál Shah, his dominion would have been permanent, and the autumnal blasts of misfortune would not have injured the rose-garden of his comfort and happiness:
You will be happy in both worlds,
If you moderate your desires.”
Continuation of the History of Nassar.