and inexperience, and as I am under great obligations to your father, I consider it my duty to be useful to you. Since you have never before been from home and have spent all your days in affluence, I fear you will not be able to perform the journey satisfactorily:
Travel is not easy—its dangers are boundless;
Difficulties accompany it in all directions.
But as divine grace is the escort of all who intend to journey in the path of trust in God, I leave you to the guardianship of divine mercy to protect you from all dangers. I shall, however, give you three counsels, and hope you will profit by them.” Nassar rejoined: “It is the first duty of young men to listen to the counsels of intelligent and upright men; therefore speak, for I shall follow them.” Khayrandísh then spake thus:
First Advice.
“Though the deceitful bride of the world may look at you from the corner of her eye, and may try to bias your mind by her coquettish movements, lose not the reins of self-possession from your hands, because worldly prosperity is unsubstantial as the mirage, and the honey of its favour leaves only the bitterness of deception.
Give not thy heart to the love of the world,
For it has destroyed thousands like thee.
When the humái of worldly prosperity spreads its wings over you, covet not its favours, for it will change at last and regret only will remain.
Be not intent on riches and dignity;
For, like henna, they are not lasting.[14]
Prosperity is fickle, and when it has turned its back, all efforts to recall it are futile. The favours and frowns of the world are the harbingers of the caravan of prosperity and adversity, for both depend in every individual case from the propitious or unpropitious consequences of the rotation of the stars of the times, and are connected with them like the sun with shadows;[15] nor can they be altered by the foresight of Lukman, or by the wisdom of a thousand Platos. And such efforts may be compared to the vain longings of procuring spring in the depth of winter, or for the light of day at midnight. Thus all the struggles of Shah Manssur were fruitless, and he reaped only sorrow from them.” Nassar asked: “What is the story of Shah Manssur?” Khayrandísh thereupon related the
Story of Shah Manssur.
Once upon a time there was a man called Shah Manssur, from the neighbourhood of Nishapúr, who lived in affluence, but deceitful fortune had spread the chess-board of hypocrisy, had mated and abandoned him in the desert of affliction. After he lost all his property, he sat down in the lap of misery, and finding all his efforts to better his condition fruitless, he set out for India. When he arrived in Kabúl he was equally disappointed, so he went one day into the bazár, hoping to find employment as a porter. There he waited till evening, and every man found occupation excepting himself. He began involuntarily to shed tears, and one of the principal merchants, who was returning home from the palace of the Amír, saw him, and, concluding that he was suffering from some wrong done to him, asked him the cause of his distress. Manssur informed him of his circumstances, upon which the merchant took him to his house, and next morning told him that as he was in need of an attendant he might stay until he could find something more to his advantage. Shah Manssur accordingly entered into the merchant’s service, and gained by his diligence the approbation of his master, but raised the envy of his fellow servants and incurred the ill-will of his mistress. One day he felt somewhat indisposed, and the merchant’s wife sent him some poison as a medicine,[16] but as his distemper was slight he made no use of the remedy, and kept it in his pocket. Now the merchant had a little son whom Shah Manssur was wont to carry about, and who was so much accustomed to him that whenever he cried Manssur only could quiet him. It so happened that this day the child would not cease weeping, and Shah Manssur was obliged to take him into the street, hoping to divert him by looking at the passers-by. Having a little business to despatch, he set the child for a moment against a wall, which unfortunately fell and covered him. Shah Manssur was in despair and made a great outcry, whereupon the merchant came out and asked him why he made such a noise. He told his master of the accident, at which the merchant was disconsolate, and the people flocked from all directions wishing to kill Shah Manssur. Meanwhile the ruins of the wall were removed, and on the child being extricated he was found alive and perfectly uninjured. The father and mother of the child were in an ecstasy of joy at his fortunate escape, and all the people wondered. Shah Manssur fell on his knees and thanked the Most High, and everybody rejoiced. A man in the crowd proposed that a medicine be administered to the child, and Shah Manssur immediately produced from his pocket that sent to him by the merchant’s wife, and handed it to his master, but as soon as the child had swallowed it he fell into convulsions and expired. The child’s parents were in despair, especially the mother, who threatened to commit suicide if Shah Manssur were suffered to live, because, as she said, he had poisoned her son. Hereupon the merchant’s servants tied Manssur to a post, and ill-treated him so much that he fainted, and was abandoned for dead.
In the evening he began to revive and moaned piteously. The merchant was an intelligent man and could hardly believe Shah Manssur to have been so ungrateful as to kill his child deliberately with poison, so he approached the supposed culprit and besought him to speak the truth. Manssur said that as he was deeply grateful for the kindness he had received from his master and greatly attached to the child, the thought of committing such a crime could not have entered his mind; and that he had only given to the child a remedy which had been sent to himself by his mistress when he was slightly indisposed. The merchant at once perceived his wife’s treachery and was convinced of Shah Manssur’s innocence; but nevertheless he told him that he could no longer retain him in his service; so he loosed his bonds and dismissed him. Naked and wounded, as he was, Shah Manssur walked away and took refuge in the outskirts of the city with an old woman, at whose house he used to stay in better times when on his commercial journeys. Having explained to her his case, she received him kindly and set about curing his wounds. This old woman had a son who was carrying on an amorous intrigue with a neighbour’s wife. He happened to be absent on that night at a friend’s house, but his paramour was ignorant of this, and having waited till her husband was asleep she hastened to her lover’s house, which she found in darkness, and mistaking Shah Manssur for him she approached his couch. The wounded man thought it was his old landlady, and began to thank her for her kind solicitude. In the meantime the husband of the adulterous woman had missed her and made his appearance in the old woman’s house. She had just got up to ascertain the cause of the disturbance, and on perceiving a man standing with a naked sword at the door, she concluded he was a thief, and at once ran up to the roof of her house and raised an alarm, which caused all the people of the district to sally forth with sticks and swords; but the adulterous woman ran off by way of the river, which was the shortest, to her house and went instantly to bed. In the confusion her husband was struck by many stones thrown at him when making his escape, but at last he arrived home and overwhelmed his wife with reproaches; she, however, yawned, pretended to awake from sleep, turned from one side to the other, and asked what was the hour of the night. But the infuriated husband would not be deceived by this subterfuge, but vehemently accused her of being unfaithful, and even drew his sword. Upon this the woman cried aloud: “O Muslims! my husband is killing me!” and the police officers, who were at that moment returning from the alarm that had been raised by the old woman, caught the words and ran to the house, when the husband violently struck one of them with his sword, and after a brief struggle was taken into custody.
After the woman had thus got rid of her husband the wasps of lust again stung her, and being anxious to know whether her lover was sick she once more approached Shah Manssur’s couch, awoke him and began her overtures. The old woman’s son, who had been at a neighbour’s, hearing of the