From “The Oriental
Story Book” by Wilhelm Hauff
I WAS born in
Constantinople; my father was a Dragoman of the Ottoman Porte, and carried on,
besides, a tolerably lucrative trade in essences and silk goods. He gave me a
good education, since he partly superintended it himself, and partly had me
instructed by one of our priests. At first, he intended that I should one day
take charge of his business: but since I displayed greater capacity than he
expected, with the advice of his friends, he resolved that I should study
medicine; for a physician, if he only knows more than a common quack, can make
his fortune in Constantinople.
Many Frenchmen were in the habit of coming to our house, and
one of them prevailed upon my father to let me go to the city of Paris, in his
fatherland, where one could learn the profession gratuitously, and with the
best advantages: he himself would take me with him, at his own expense, when he
returned. My father, who in his youth had also been a traveller, consented, and
the Frenchman told me to hold myself in readiness in three months. I was beside
myself with delight to see foreign lands, and could not wait for the moment in
which we should embark. At last the stranger had finished his business, and was
ready to start.
On the evening preceding our voyage, my father conducted me
into his sleeping apartment; there I saw fine garments and weapons lying on the
table; but what most attracted my eye was a large pile of gold, for I had never
before seen so much together. My father embraced me, and said,
“See, my son, I have provided thee with garments for thy
journey. These weapons are thine; they are those which thy grandfather hung
upon me, when I went forth into foreign lands. I know thou canst wield them;
but use them not, unless thou art attacked; then, however, lay on with right
good-will. My wealth is not great; see! I have divided it into three parts: one
is thine; one shall be for my support, and spare money in case of necessity;
the third shall be sacred and untouched by me, it may serve thee in the hour of
need.” Thus spoke my old father, while tears hung in his eyes, perhaps from a
presentiment, for I have never seen him since.
Our voyage was favorable; we soon reached the land of the
Franks, and six days’ journey brought us to the large city, Paris. Here my
French friend hired me a room, and advised me to be prudent in spending my
money, which amounted to two thousand thalers. In this city I lived three
years, and learned all that a well-educated physician should know. I would be
speaking falsely, however, if I said that I was very happy, for the customs of
the people pleased me not; moreover, I had but few good friends among them, but
these were young men of nobility.
The longing after my native land at length became
irresistible; during the whole time I had heard nothing from my father, and I
therefore seized a favorable opportunity to return home. There was going an
embassy from France to the Supreme Porte: I agreed to join the train of the
ambassador as surgeon, and soon arrived once more at Stamboul (Istanbul).
My father’s dwelling, however, I found closed, and the
neighbors, astonished at seeing me, said that my father had been dead for two
months. The priest, who had instructed me in youth, brought me the key. Alone
and forsaken, I entered the desolate house. I found all as my father had left
it; but the gold which he promised to leave to me, was missing. I inquired of
the priest respecting it, and he bowed and said:
“Your father died like a holy man, for he left his gold to
the Church!”
This was incomprehensible to me; nevertheless, what could I
do? I had no proofs against the priest, and could only congratulate myself that
he had not also looked upon the house, and wares of my father, in the light of
a legacy. This was the first misfortune that met me; but after this came one
upon another. My reputation as a physician would not extend itself, because I
was ashamed to play the quack; above all, I missed the recommendation of my
father, who had introduced me to the richest and most respectable families; but
now they thought no more of the poor Zaleukos. Moreover, the wares of my father
found no sale, for his customers had been scattered at his death, and new ones
came only after a long time. One day, as I was reflecting sorrowfully upon my
situation, it occurred to me that in France I had often seen countrymen of
mine, who travelled through the land, and exposed their goods at the
market-places of the cities: I recollected that people gladly purchased of
them, because they came from foreign lands; and that by such a trade, one could
make a hundred-fold. My resolution was forthwith taken; I sold my paternal
dwelling, gave a portion of the money obtained thereby to a tried friend to
preserve for me, and with the remainder purchased such articles as were rare in
France,—shawls, silken goods, ointments, and oils; for these I hired a place
upon a vessel, and thus began my second voyage to France. It appeared as if
fortune became favorable to me, the moment I had the Straits of the Dardanelles
upon my back. Our voyage was short and prosperous. I travelled through the
cities of France, large and small, and found, in all, ready purchasers for my
goods. My friend in Stamboul continually sent me fresh supplies, and I became
richer from day to day. At last when I had husbanded so well, that I believed
myself able to venture on some more extensive undertaking, I went with my wares
into Italy. I must, however, mention something that brought me in no little
money; I called my profession also to my assistance. As soon as I arrived in a
city I announced, by means of bills, that a Grecian physician was there, who
had already cured many; and, truly, my balsam, and my medicines, had brought me
in many a zechin.
Thus at last I reached the city of Florence, in Italy. I
proposed to myself to remain longer than usual in this place, partly because it
pleased me so well, partly, moreover, that I might recover from the fatigues of
my journey. I hired myself a shop in the quarter of the city called St. Croce,
and in a tavern not far therefrom, took a couple of fine rooms which led out
upon a balcony. Immediately I had my bills carried around, which announced me
as a physician and merchant. I had no sooner opened my shop than buyers
streamed in upon me, and although I asked a tolerably high price, still I sold
more than others, because I was attentive and friendly to my customers.
Well satisfied, I had spent four days in Florence, when one
evening, after I had shut my shop, and according to custom was examining my
stock of ointment-boxes, I found, in one of the smaller ones, a letter which I
did not remember to have put in. I opened it and found therein an invitation to
repair that night, punctually at twelve, to the bridge called the Ponte
Vecchio. For some time I reflected upon this, as to who it could be that had
thus invited me; as, however, I knew not a soul in Florence, I thought, as had
often happened already, that one wished to lead me privately to some sick
person. Accordingly I resolved to go; nevertheless, as a precautionary measure,
I put on the sabre which my father had given me. As it was fast approaching
midnight, I set out upon my way, and soon arrived at the Ponte Vecchio; I found
the bridge forsaken and desolate, and resolved to wait until it should appear
who had addressed me.
It was a cold night; the moon shone clear as I looked down
upon the waters of the Arno, which sparkled in her light. On the church of the
city the twelfth hour was sounding, when I looked up, and before me stood a
tall man, entirely covered with a red cloak, a corner of which he held before his
face. At this sudden apparition I was at first somewhat startled, but I soon
recovered myself and said—
“If you have summoned me hither, tell me, what is your
pleasure?”
The Red-mantle turned, and solemnly ejaculated, “Follow!”
My mind was nevertheless somewhat uneasy at the idea of
going alone with this Unknown; I stood still and said, “Not so, dear sir; you
will first tell me whither; moreover, you may show me your face a little, that
I may see whether you have good intentions towards me.”
The Stranger, however, appeared not to be concerned thereat.
“If thou wishest it not, Zaleukos, then remain!” answered he, moving away. At
this my anger burned.
“Think you,” I cried, “that I will suffer a man to play the
fool with me, and wait here this cold night for nothing?” In three bounds I
reached him; crying still louder, I seized him by the cloak, laying the other
hand upon my sabre; but the mantle remained in my hand, and the Unknown
vanished around the nearest corner. My anger gradually cooled; I still had the
cloak, and this should furnish the key to this strange adventure. I put it on,
and moved towards home. Before I had taken a hundred steps, somebody passed
very near, and whispered in the French tongue, “Observe, Count, to-night, we
can do nothing.” Before I could look around, this somebody had passed, and I
saw only a shadow hovering near the houses. That this exclamation was addressed
to the mantle, and not to me, I plainly perceived; nevertheless, this threw no
light upon the matter. Next morning I considered what was best to be done. At
first I thought of having proclamation made respecting the cloak, that I had
found it; but in that case the Unknown could send for it by a third person, and
I would have no explanation of the matter. While thus meditating I took a
nearer view of the garment. It was of heavy Genoese velvet, of dark red color,
bordered with fur from Astrachan, and richly embroidered with gold. The
gorgeousness of the cloak suggested to me a plan, which I resolved to put in
execution. I carried it to my shop and offered it for sale, taking care,
however, to set so high a price upon it, that I would be certain to find no
purchaser. My object in this was to fix my eye keenly upon everyone who should
come to inquire after it; for the figure of the Unknown, which, after the loss
of the mantle, had been exposed to me distinctly though transiently, I could
recognise out of thousands. Many merchants came after the cloak, the
extraordinary beauty of which drew all eyes upon it; but none bore the slightest
resemblance to the Unknown, none would give for it the high price of two
hundred zechins. It was surprising to me, that when I asked one and another
whether there was a similar mantle in Florence, all answered in the negative,
and protested that they had never seen such costly and elegant workmanship.
It was just becoming evening, when at last there came a
young man who had often been in there, and had also that very day bid high for
the mantle; he threw upon the table a bag of zechins, exclaiming—
“By Heaven! Zaleukos, I must have your mantle, should I be
made a beggar by it.” Immediately he began to count out his gold pieces. I was
in a great dilemma; I had exposed the mantle, in order thereby to get a sight
of my unknown friend, and now came a young simpleton to give the unheard-of
price. Nevertheless, what remained for me? I complied, for on the other hand
the reflection consoled me, that my night adventure would be so well rewarded.
The young man put on the cloak and departed; he turned, however, upon the
threshold, while he loosened a paper which was attached to the collar, and
threw it towards me, saying, “Here, Zaleukos, hangs something, that does not
properly belong to my purchase.” Indifferently, I received the note; but lo!
these were the contents:—
“This night, at the hour thou knowest, bring the mantle to
the Ponte Vecchio; four hundred zechins await thee!”
I stood as one thunder-struck: thus had I trifled with
fortune, and entirely missed my aim. Nevertheless, I reflected not long;
catching up the two hundred zechins, I bounded to the side of the young man and
said, “Take your zechins again, my good friend, and leave me the cloak; I
cannot possibly part with it.”
At first he treated the thing as a jest, but when he saw it
was earnest, he fell in a passion at my presumption, and called me a fool; and
thus at last we came to blows. I was fortunate enough to seize the mantle in
the scuffle, and was already making off with it, when the young man called the
police to his assistance, and had both of us carried before a court of justice.
The magistrate was much astonished at the accusation, and adjudged the cloak to
my opponent. I however, offered the young man twenty, fifty, eighty, at last a
hundred, zechins, in addition to his two hundred, if he would surrender it to
me. What my entreaties could not accomplish, my gold did. He took my good
zechins, while I went off in triumph with the mantle, obliged to be satisfied
with being taken for a madman by everyone in Florence. Nevertheless, the
opinion of the people was a matter of indifference to me, for I knew better
than they, that I would still gain by the bargain.
With impatience I awaited the night; at the same hour as the
preceding day, I proceeded to the Ponte Vecchio, the mantle under my arm. With
the last stroke of the clock, came the figure out of darkness to my side:
beyond a doubt it was the man of the night before.
“Hast thou the cloak?” I was asked.
“Yes, sir,” I replied, “but it cost me a hundred zechins
cash.”
“I know it,” rejoined he; “look, here are four hundred.” He
moved with me to the broad railing of the bridge and counted out the gold
pieces; brightly they glimmered in the moonshine, their lustre delighted my
heart—ah! it did not foresee that this was to be its last joy. I put the money
in my pocket, and then wished to get a good view of the generous stranger, but
he had a mask before his face, through which two dark eyes frightfully beamed
upon me.
“I thank you, sir, for your kindness,” said I to him; “what
further desire you of me? I told you before, however, that it must be nothing
evil.”
“Unnecessary trouble,” answered he, throwing the cloak over
his shoulders; “I needed your assistance as a physician, nevertheless not for a
living, but for a dead person.”
“How can that be?” exclaimed I in amazement.
“I came with my sister from a distant land,” rejoined he, at
the same time motioning me to follow him, “and took up my abode with a friend
of our family. A sudden disease carried off my sister yesterday, and our
relations wished to bury her this morning. According to an old usage of our
family, however, all are to repose in the sepulchre of our fathers; many who
have died in foreign lands, nevertheless sleep there embalmed. To my relations
now I grant the body, but to my father must I bring at least the head of his
daughter, that he may see it once again.”
In this custom of severing the head from near relatives
there was to me, indeed, something awful; nevertheless, I ventured to say
nothing against it, through fear of offending the Unknown. I told him,
therefore, that I was well acquainted with the art of embalming the dead, and
asked him to lead me to the body. Notwithstanding, I could not keep myself from
inquiring why all this must be done so secretly in the night. He answered me
that his relations, who considered his purpose inhuman, would prevent him from
accomplishing it by day; but only let the head once be cut off, and they could
say little more about it: he could, indeed, have brought the head to me, but a
natural feeling prevented him from cutting it off himself.
These words brought us to a large splendid house; my
companion pointed it out to me as the termination of our nocturnal walk. We
passed the principal door, and entering a small gate, which the stranger
carefully closed after him, ascended, in the dark, a narrow, winding staircase.
This brought us to a dimly-lighted corridor, from which we entered an
apartment; a lamp, suspended from the ceiling, shed its brilliant rays around.
In this chamber stood a bed, on which lay the corpse; the
Unknown turned away his face, as if wishing to conceal his tears. He beckoned
me to the bed, and bidding me set about my business speedily yet carefully,
went out by the door.
I seized my knives, which, as a physician, I constantly
carried with me, and approached the bed. Only the head of the corpse was
visible, but that was so beautiful that the deepest compassion involuntarily
came over me. In long braids the dark hair hung down; the face was pale, the
eyes closed. At first, I made an incision in the skin, according to the
practice of surgeons when they remove a limb. Then I took my sharpest knife and
cut entirely through the throat. But, horror! the dead opened her eyes—shut
them again—and in a deep sigh seemed now, for the first time, to breathe forth
her life! Straightway a stream of hot blood sprang forth from the wound. I was
convinced that I had killed the poor girl; for that she was dead there could be
no doubt—from such a wound there was no chance of recovering. I stood some
moments in anxious wo, thinking on what had happened. Had the Red-mantle
deceived me, or was his sister, perhaps, only apparently dead? The latter
appeared to me more probable. Yet I dared not tell the brother of the deceased,
that, perhaps, a less rash blow would have aroused, without having killed her;
therefore I began to sever the head entirely—but once again the dying one
groaned, stretched herself out in a convulsion of pain, and breathed her last.
Then terror overpowered me, and I rushed shivering out of the apartment.
But outside in the corridor it was dark, for the lamp had
died out; no trace of my companion was perceptible, and I was obliged to move
along by the wall, at hazard in the dark, in order to reach the winding-stairs.
I found them at last, and descended, half falling, half gliding. There was no
one below; the door was only latched, and I breathed more freely when I was in
the street, out of the uneasy atmosphere of the house. Spurred on by fear, I
ran to my dwelling, and buried myself in the pillow of my bed, in order to
forget the horrid crime I had committed. But sleep fled my eyelids, and soon
morning admonished me again to collect myself. It seemed probable to me, that
the man who had led me to this villainous deed, as it now appeared to me, would
not denounce me. I immediately resolved to attend to my business in my shop,
and to put on as careless an air as possible. But, alas! a new misfortune,
which I now for the first time observed, augmented my sorrow. My cap and girdle,
as also my knives, were missing; and I knew not whether they had been left in
the chamber of the dead, or lost during my flight. Alas! the former seemed more
probable, and they could discover in me the murderer.
I opened my shop at the usual time; a neighbor stepped in,
as was his custom, being a communicative man. “Ah! what say you to the horrid
deed,” he cried, “that was committed last night?” I started as if I knew
nothing. “How! know you not that with which the whole city is filled? Know you
not that last night, the fairest flower in Florence, Bianca, the daughter of
the Governor, was murdered? Ah! only yesterday I saw her walking happily
through the streets with her bridegroom, for to-day she would have had her
nuptial festival!”
Every word of my neighbor was a dagger to my heart; and how
often returned my torments! for each of my customers told me the story, one
more frightfully than another; yet not one could tell it half so horribly as it
had seemed to me. About mid-day, an officer of justice unexpectedly walked into
my shop, and asked me to clear it of the bystanders.
“Signor Zaleukos,” said he, showing me the articles I had
lost, “belong these things to you?” I reflected whether I should not entirely
disown them; but when I saw through the half-opened door, my landlord and
several acquaintances, who could readily testify against me, I determined not
to make the matter worse by a falsehood, and acknowledged the articles
exhibited as my own. The officer told me to follow him, and conducted me to a
spacious building, which I soon recognised as the prison. Then, a little
farther on, he showed me into an apartment.
My situation was terrible, as I reflected on it in my
solitude. The thought of having committed a murder, even against my wish,
returned again and again. Moreover, I could not conceal from myself that the
glance of the gold had dazzled my senses; otherwise I would not have fallen so
blindly into the snare.
Two hours after my arrest, I was led from my chamber, and
after descending several flights of stairs, entered a spacious saloon. Around a
long table hung with black, were seated twelve men, mostly gray with age. Along
the side of the room, benches were arranged, on which were seated the first
people of Florence. In the gallery, which was built quite high, stood the
spectators, closely crowded together. As soon as I reached the black table, a
man with a gloomy, sorrowful air arose—it was the Governor. He told the
audience that, as a father, he could not judge impartially in this matter, and
that he, for this occasion, would surrender his seat to the oldest of the
senators. The latter was a gray-headed man, of at least ninety years. He arose,
stooping beneath the weight of age; his temples were covered with thin white
hair, but his eyes still burned brightly, and his voice was strong and steady.
He began by asking me whether I confessed the murder. I entreated his
attention, and with dauntless, distinct voice, related what I had done and all
that I knew. I observed that the Governor during my recital turned first pale,
then red, and when I concluded, became furious. “How, wretch!” he cried out to
me, “wishest thou thus to lay upon another, the crime thy avarice has
committed?”
The Senator rebuked him for his interruption, after having
of his own free will resigned his right; moreover, that it was not so clear,
that I had done the deed through avarice, for according to his own testimony,
nothing had been taken from the corpse. Yes, he went still further; he told the
Governor that he must give an account of his daughter’s early life, for in this
way only could one conclude whether I had told the truth or not. Immediately he
closed the court for that day, for the purpose, as he said, of consulting the
papers of the deceased, which the Governor was to give him. I was carried back
to my prison, where I passed a sorrowful day, constantly occupied with the
ardent hope, that they would in some way discover the connection between the
deceased and the Red-mantle.
Full of hope, I proceeded the next day to the justice-hall.
Several letters lay upon the table; the old Senator asked whether they were of
my writing. I looked at them, and found that they were by the same hand as both
the letters that I had received. This I disclosed to the Senator; but he seemed
to give but little weight to it, answering that I must have written both, for
the name subscribed was unquestionably a Z, the initial of my name. The
letters, however, contained menaces against the deceased, and warnings against
the marriage which she was on the point of consummating. The Governor seemed to
have imparted something strange and untrue, with respect to my person; for I
was treated this day with more suspicion and severity. For my justification, I
appealed to the papers, which would be found in my room, but I was informed
that search had been made and nothing found. Thus, at the close of the court,
vanished all my hope; and when, on the third day, I was led again to the hall,
the judgment was read aloud, that I was convicted of a premeditated murder, and
sentenced to death. To such extremity had I come; forsaken by all that was dear
to me on earth, far from my native land, innocent and in the bloom of my years,
I was to die by the axe!
On the evening of this terrible day which had decided my
fate, I was seated in my lonely dungeon, my hopes past, my thoughts seriously
turned upon death, when the door of my prison opened, and a man entered who
regarded me long in silence.
“Do I see you again, in this situation, Zaleukos?” he began.
By the dim light of my lamp I had not recognised him, but the sound of his
voice awoke within me old recollections. It was Valetty, one of the few friends
I had made during my studies at Paris. He said that he had casually come to
Florence, where his father, a distinguished man, resided; he had heard of my
story, and come to see me once more, to inquire with his own lips, how I could
have been guilty of such an awful crime. I told him the whole history: he
seemed lost in wonder, and conjured me to tell him, my only friend, all the
truth, and not to depart with a lie upon my tongue. I swore to him with the
most solemn oath, that I had spoken the truth; and that no other guilt could be
attached to me, than that, having been blinded by the glance of the gold, I had
not seen the improbability of the Stranger’s story. “Then did you not know
Bianca?” asked he. I assured him that I had never seen her. Valetty thereupon
told me that there was a deep mystery in the matter; that the Governor in great
haste had urged my condemnation, and that a report was current among the
people, that I had known Bianca for a long time, and had murdered her out of
revenge for her intended marriage with another. I informed him that all this
was probably true of the Red-mantle, but that I could not prove his
participation in the deed. Valetty embraced me, weeping, and promised me to do
all that he could; to save my life, if nothing more. I had not much hope;
nevertheless, I knew that my friend was a wise man, and well acquainted with
the laws, and that he would do all in his power to preserve me.
Two long days was I in suspense; at length Valetty appeared.
“I bring consolation, though even that is attended with sorrow. You shall live
and be free, but with the loss of a hand!”
Overjoyed, I thanked my friend for my life. He told me that
the Governor had been inexorable, and would not once look into the matter: that
at length, however, rather than appear unjust, he had agreed, if a similar case
could be found in the annals of Florentine history, that my penalty should be
regulated by the punishment that was then inflicted. He and his father had
searched, day and night, in the old books, and had at length found a case
similar in every respect to mine; the sentence there ran thus:—
“He shall have his left hand cut off; his goods shall be
confiscated, and he himself banished forever!”
Such now was my sentence, also, and I was to prepare for the
painful hour that awaited me. I will not bring before your eyes the frightful
moment, in which, at the open market-place, I laid my hand upon the block; in
which my own blood in thick streams flowed over me!
Valetty took me to his house until I had recovered, and then
generously supplied me with money for my journey, for all that I had so
laboriously acquired was confiscated to Justice. I went from Florence to
Sicily, and thence, by the first ship I could find, to Constantinople. My
hopes, which rested on the sum of money I had left with my friend, were not
disappointed. I proposed that I should live with him—how astonished was I, when
he asked why I occupied not my own house! He told me that a strange man had, in
my name, bought a house in the quarter of the Greeks, and told the neighbors
that I would soon, myself, return. I immediately proceeded to it with my
friend, and was joyfully received by all my old acquaintances. An aged merchant
handed me a letter which the man who purchased for me had left. I read:—
“Zaleukos! two hands stand ready to work unceasingly, that
thou mayest not feel the loss of one. That house which thou seest and all
therein are thine, and every year shalt thou receive so much, that thou shalt
be among the rich of thy nation. Mayest thou forgive one who is more unhappy
than thyself!”
I could guess who was the writer, and the merchant told me,
in answer to my inquiry that it was a man covered with a red cloak, whom he had
taken for a Frenchman. I knew enough to convince me that the Unknown was not
entirely devoid of generous feeling. In my new house I found all arranged in
the best style; a shop, moreover, full of wares, finer than any I had ever had.
Ten years have elapsed since then; more in compliance with ancient custom, than
because it is necessary, do I continue to travel in foreign lands for purposes
of trade, but the land which was so fatal to me I have never seen since. Every
year I receive a thousand pieces of gold; but although it rejoices me to know
that this Unfortunate is so noble, still can his money never remove wo from my
soul, for there lives forever the heart-rending image of the murdered Bianca!
Zaleukos
Thus ended the story of Zaleukos, the Grecian merchant. With
great interest had the others listened; the stranger, in particular, seemed to
be wrapt up in it: more than once he had drawn a deep sigh, and Muley looked as
if he had had tears in his eyes. No one spoke for some time after the recital.
“And hate you not the Unknown, who so basely cost you a
noble member of your body, and even put your life in danger?” inquired Selim.
“Perhaps there were hours at first,” answered the Greek, “in
which my heart accused him before God, of having brought this misfortune upon
me, and embittered my life; but I found consolation in the religion of my
fathers, which commanded me to love my enemies. Moreover, he probably is more
unhappy than myself.”
“You are a noble man!” exclaimed Selim, cordially pressing
the hand of the Greek.
The leader of the escort, however, here interrupted their
conversation. He came with a troubled air into the tent, and told them that
they could not give themselves up to repose, for this was the place in which
Caravans were usually attacked, and his guards imagined they had seen several
horsemen in the distance.
The merchants were confounded at this intelligence. Selim,
the stranger, however, expressed wonder at their alarm, saying they were so
well escorted they need not fear a troop of Arabian robbers.
“Yes, sir,” rejoined to him the leader of the guard; “were
he only a common outlaw, we could compose ourselves to rest without anxiety;
but for some time back, the frightful Orbasan has shown himself again, and it
is well to be upon our guard.”
The stranger inquired who this Orbasan was, and Achmet, the
old merchant, answered him:—
“Various rumors are current among the people with respect to
this wonderful man. Some hold him to be a supernatural being, because, with
only five or six men, he has frequently fallen upon a whole encampment; others
regard him as a bold Frenchman, whom misfortune has driven into this region: out
of all this, however, thus much alone is certain, that he is an abandoned
robber and highwayman.”
“That can you not prove,” answered Lezah, one of the
merchants. “Robber as he is, he is still a noble man, and such has he shown
himself to my brother, as I can relate to you. He has formed his whole band of
well-disciplined men, and as long as he marches through the desert, no other
band ventures to show itself. Moreover, he robs not as others, but only exacts
a tribute from the caravans; whoever willingly pays this, proceeds without
further danger, for Orbasan is lord of the wilderness!”
Thus did the travellers converse together in the tent; the
guards, however, who were stationed around the resting-place, began to become
uneasy. A tolerably large band of armed horsemen showed themselves at the
distance of half a league. They appeared to be riding straight to the
encampment; one of the guard came into the tent, to inform them that they would
probably be attacked.
Standing Guard
The merchants consulted among themselves as to what they
should do, whether to march against them, or await the attack. Achmet and the
two elder merchants inclined to the latter course; the fiery Muley, however,
and Zaleukos desired the former, and summoned the stranger to their assistance.
He, however, quietly drew forth from his girdle a little blue cloth spangled
with red stars, bound it upon a lance, and commanded one of the slaves to plant
it in front of the tent: he would venture his life upon it, he said, that the
horsemen, when they saw this signal, would quietly march back again. Muley
trusted not the result; still the slave put out the lance in front of the tent.
Meanwhile all in the camp had seized their weapons, and were looking upon the
horsemen in eager expectation. The latter, however, appeared to have espied the
signal; they suddenly swerved from their direct course towards the encampment,
and, in a large circle, moved off to the side.
Struck with wonder, the travellers stood some moments,
gazing alternately at the horsemen and the stranger. The latter stood in front
of the tent quite indifferently, as though nothing had happened, looking upon
the plain before him. At last Muley broke the silence.
“Who art thou, mighty stranger,” he exclaimed, “that
restrainest with a glance the wild hordes of the desert?”
“You rate my art higher than it deserves,” answered Selim
Baruch. “I observed this signal when I fled from captivity; what it means, I
know not—only this much I know, that whoever travels with this sign, is under
great protection.”
The merchants thanked the stranger, and called him their
preserver; indeed, the number of the robbers was so great, that the Caravan
could not, probably, for any length of time, have offered an effectual
resistance.
With lighter hearts they now gave themselves to sleep; and
when the sun began to sink, and the evening wind to pass over the sand-plain,
they struck their tents, and marched on. The next day they halted safely, only
one day’s journey from the entrance of the desert. When the travellers had once
more collected in the large tent, Lezah, the merchant, took up the discourse.
“I told you, yesterday, that the dreaded Orbasan was a noble
man; permit me to prove it to you, to-day, by the relation of my brother’s
adventure. My father was Cadi of Acara. He had three children; I was the
eldest, my brother and sister being much younger than myself. When I was twenty
years old, a brother of my father took me under his protection; he made me heir
to his property, on condition that I should remain with him until his death. He
however had reached an old age, so that before two years I returned to my
native land, having known nothing, before, of the misfortune which had
meanwhile fallen upon my family, and how Allah had turned it to advantage.”
===================
The Story of “The Hewn
Off Hand” from “The Oriental Story Book” by Wilhelm Hauff
ISBN: 9788835365310
====================
KEYWORDS: oriental story book, books for children, Folklore,
Fairy Tales, myths, legends, children’s stories, storyteller, fables, lore, Adventure,
Action, Caliph, Captain, Caravan, castle, chamber, city, classic fairy tales, cloak,
companion, companions, cottage, dagger, dark, earth, eastern, fairytales, far,
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great, happiness, Happy ever after, heart, horses, journey, joy, King, Labakan,
Little Brother, Little Muck, lord, orient, oriental, mantle, Märchen,
merchants, Mighty, mountains, Muley, Mustapha, old fashioned, Omar, Orbasan,
palace, physician, poor beggar, prince, Prophet, Queen, Quin, return, rivers,
royal, sea, Selim, ship, ship, slaves, strange, stranger, sultan, sultana,
tailor, tales, Thiuli, Zaleukos, classic stories,
TAGS: #orientalstorybook, #booksforchildren, #Folklore, #FairyTales,
#myths, #legends, #childrensstories, #storyteller, #fables, #lore, #Adventure,
#Action, #Caliph, #Captain, #Caravan, #castle, #chamber, #city, #classicfairytales,
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#physician, #poorbeggar, #prince, #Prophet, #Queen, #Quin, #return, #rivers, #royal,
#sea, #Selim, #ship, #ship, #slaves, #strange, #stranger, #sultan, #sultana, #tailor,
#tales, #Thiuli, #Zaleukos, #classicstories,
