LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

      So the Chief Vizier uttered command, and Shibli Bagarag was ware of the power of five slaves upon him; and they seized him familiarly, and placed him in position, and made ready his clothing for the reception of fifty other thwacks with a thong, each several thwack coming down on him with a hiss, as it were a serpent, and with a smack, as it were the mouth of satisfaction; and the people assembled extolled the Chief Vizier, saying, 'Well and valiantly done, O stay of the State! and such-like to the accursed race of barbers.'

      Now, when they had passed before the Chief Vizier and departed, lo! he fell to laughing violently, so that his hair was agitated and was as a sand-cloud over him, and his countenance behind it was as the sun of the desert reflected ripplingly on the waters of a bubbling spring, for it had the aspect of merriness; and the Chief Vizier exclaimed, 'O Shibli Bagarag, have I not made fair show?'

      And Shibli Bagarag said, 'Excellent fair show, O mighty one!' Yet knew he not in what, but he was abject by reason of the thwacks.

      So the Vizier said, 'Thou lookest lean, even as one to whom Fortune oweth a long debt. Tell me now of thy barbercraft: perchance thy gain will be great thereby?'

      And Shibli Bagarag answered, 'My gain has been great, O eminent in rank, but of evil quality, and I am content not to increase it.' And he broke forth into lamentations, crying in excellent verse:—

       Why am I thus the sport of all—

       A thing Fate knocketh like a ball

       From point to point of evil chance,

       Even as the sneer of Circumstance?

       While thirsting for the highest fame,

       I hunger like the lowest beast:

       To be the first of men I aim

       And find myself the least.

      Now, the Vizier delayed not when he heard this to have a fair supply set before Shibli Bagarag, and meats dressed in divers fashions, spiced, and coloured, and with herbs, and wines in golden goblets, and slaves in attendance. So Shibli Bagarag ate and drank, and presently his soul arose from its prostration, and he cried, 'Wullahy! the head cook of King Shamshureen could have worked no better as regards the restorative process.'

      Then said the Chief Vizier, 'O Shibli Bagarag, where now is thy tackle?'

      And Shibli Bagarag winked and nodded and turned his head in the manner of the knowing ones, and he recited the verse:

       'Tis well that we are sometimes circumspect,

       And hold ourselves in witless ways deterred:

       One thwacking made me seriously reflect;

       A SECOND turned the cream of love to curd:

       Most surely that profession I reject

       Before the fear of a prospective THIRD.

      So the Vizier said, ''Tis well, thou turnest verse neatly' And he exclaimed extemporaneously:

       If thou wouldst have thy achievement as high

       As the wings of Ambition can fly:

       If thou the clear summit of hope wouldst attain,

       And not have thy labour in vain;

       Be steadfast in that which impell'd, for the peace

       Of earth he who leaves must have trust:

       He is safe while he soars, but when faith shall cease,

       Desponding he drops to the dust.

      Then said he, 'Fear no further thwacking, but honour and prosperity in the place of it. What says the poet?—

       “We faint, when for the fire

       There needs one spark;

       We droop, when our desire

       Is near its mark.”

      How near to it art thou, O Shibli Bagarag! Know, then, that among this people there is great reverence for the growing of hair, and he that is hairiest is honoured most, wherefore are barbers creatures of especial abhorrence, and of a surety flourish not. And so it is that I owe my station to the esteem I profess for the cultivation of hair, and to my persecution of the clippers of it. And in this kingdom is no one that beareth such a crop as I, saving one, a clothier, an accursed one!—and may a blight fall upon him for his vanity and his affectation of solemn priestliness, and his lolling in his shop-front to be admired and marvelled at by the people. So this fellow I would disgrace and bring to scorn,—this Shagpat! for he is mine enemy, and the eye of the King my master is on him. Now I conceive thy assistance in this matter, Shibli Bagarag,—thou, a barber.'

      When Shibli Bagarag heard mention of Shagpat, and the desire for vengeance in the Vizier, he was as a new man, and he smelt the sweetness of his own revenge as a vulture smelleth the carrion from afar, and he said, 'I am thy servant, thy slave, O Vizier!' Then smiled he as to his own soul, and he exclaimed, 'On my head be it!'

      And it was to him as when sudden gusts of perfume from garden roses of the valley meet the traveller's nostril on the hill that overlooketh the valley, filling him with ecstasy and newness of life, delicate visions. And he cried, 'Wullahy! this is fair; this is well! I am he that was appointed to do thy work, O man in office! What says the poet?—

       “The destined hand doth strike the fated blow:

       Surely the arrow's fitted to the bow!”

      And he says:

       “The feathered seed for the wind delayeth,

       The wind above the garden swayeth,

       The garden of its burden knoweth,

       The burden falleth, sinketh, soweth.”'

      So the Vizier chuckled and nodded, saying, 'Right, right! aptly spoken, O youth of favour! 'Tis even so, and there is wisdom in what is written:

       “Chance is a poor knave;

       Its own sad slave;

       Two meet that were to meet:

       Life 's no cheat.”'

      Upon that he cried, 'First let us have with us the Eclipser of Reason, and take counsel with her, as is my custom.'

      Now, the Vizier made signal to a slave in attendance, and the slave departed from the Hall, and the Vizier led Shibli Bagarag into a closer chamber, which had a smooth floor of inlaid silver and silken hangings, the windows looking forth on the gardens of the palace and its fountains and cool recesses of shade and temperate sweetness. While they sat there conversing in this metre and that, measuring quotations, lo! the old woman, the affianced of Shibli Bagarag—and she sumptuously arrayed, in perfect queenliness, her head bound in a circlet of gems and gold, her figure lustrous with a full robe of flowing crimson silk; and she wore slippers embroidered with golden traceries, and round her waist a girdle flashing with jewels, so that to look on she was as a long falling water in the last bright slant of the sun. Her hair hung disarranged, and spread in a scattered fashion off her shoulders; and she was younger by many moons, her brow smooth where Shibli Bagarag had given the kiss of contract, her hand soft and white where he had taken it. Shibli Bagarag was smitten with astonishment at sight of her, and he thought, 'Surely the aspect of this old woman would realise the story of Bhanavar the Beautiful; and it is a story marvellous to think of; yet how great is the likeness between Bhanavar and this old woman that groweth younger!'

      And he thought again, 'What if the story of Bhanavar be a true one; this old woman such as she—no other?'

      So, while he considered her, the Vizier exclaimed, 'Is she not fair—my daughter?'

      And the youth answered, 'She is, O Vizier, that she is!'

      But the Vizier cried, 'Nay, by Allah! she is that she will be.' And the Vizier said, ''Tis she that is my daughter; tell me thy thought of her, as thou thinkest it.'

      And Shibli Bagarag replied, 'O Vizier, my thought of her is, she seemeth indeed as Bhanavar the Beautiful—no

Скачать книгу