The Story of the Three Sons of Hali

Until his eighteenth birthday, young Neangir lived happily in a village about forty miles from Constantinople. He believed that Mohammed and his wife Zinebi were his real parents.

Neangir was quite content with his life, though he was neither rich nor powerful. Unlike most young men his age, he had no desire to leave home. So he was completely surprised when one day Mohammed told him with many sighs that it was time for him to go to Constantinople and choose a profession.

The choice would be his, but he would probably prefer to be a soldier or a doctor learned in the law, who explains the Koran to people. "You know the holy book almost by heart," the old man ended, "so very soon you would be able to teach others.

But write to us and tell us how you live, and we promise never to forget you." With these words, Mohammed gave Neangir four piastres to start him in the great city and arranged for him to join a caravan heading to Constantinople.

The journey took several days, as caravans travel slowly, but at last the walls and towers of the capital appeared in the distance. When the caravan stopped, the travelers went their separate ways, and Neangir was left feeling strange and rather lonely. He had plenty of courage and made friends easily, but this was the first time he had left his village, and no one had ever spoken to him about Constantinople. He did not even know the name of a single street or a single person who lived there.

Wondering what to do next, Neangir stood still for a moment to look around. Suddenly a pleasant-looking man came up and bowed politely. He asked if the young man would honor him by staying in his house until he had made some plans. Neangir, seeing no other option, accepted the offer and followed him home.

They entered a large room where a girl of about twelve was setting three places at the table. "Zelida," said the stranger, "was I not right when I said I would bring a friend home to eat with us?" "My father," the girl replied, "you are always right in what you say, and what is better, you never mislead others." As she spoke, an old slave placed a dish of pillau—rice and meat, a favorite in the East—on the table, set down glasses of sherbet for each person, and left the room quietly.

During the meal, the host talked a great deal about all sorts of things. But Neangir could not stop looking at Zelida, as far as he could without being rude. The girl blushed and grew uncomfortable, and finally turned to her father.

"The stranger's eyes never leave me," she said in a low, hesitant voice. "If Hassan hears of this, jealousy will drive him mad." "No, no," replied the father, "you are certainly not for this young man. Did I not tell you I intend him for your sister Argentine?

I will at once take steps to fix his heart on her." He rose and opened a cupboard, from which he took some fruits and a jug of wine, which he put on the table along with a small silver and mother-of-pearl box.

"Taste this wine," he said to the young man, pouring some into a glass. "Give me a little, too," cried Zelida. "Certainly not," answered her father. "You and Hassan already had as much as was good for you the other day." "Then drink some yourself," she replied, "or this young man will think we mean to poison him." "Well, if you wish, I will do so," said the father. "This elixir is not dangerous at my age, as it is at yours."

When Neangir had emptied his glass, his host opened the mother-of-pearl box and held it out to him. Neangir was beside himself with delight at the picture of a young maiden more beautiful than anything he had ever dreamed of.

He stood speechless, while his heart swelled with a feeling quite new to him. His two companions watched him with amusement until at last Neangir roused himself. "Explain to me, I pray you," he said, "the meaning of these mysteries. Why did you ask me here?

Why did you force me to drink this dangerous liquid which has set my blood on fire? Why have you shown me this picture which has almost made me lose my reason?"

"I will answer some of your questions," replied his host, "but not all. The picture you hold is that of Zelida's sister. It has filled your heart with love for her, so go and seek her.

When you find her, you will find yourself." "But where shall I find her?" cried Neangir, kissing the charming miniature. "I cannot tell you more," replied the host cautiously. "But I can!" interrupted Zelida eagerly.

"Tomorrow you must go to the Jewish bazaar and buy a watch from the second shop on the right. And at midnight—" But what was to happen at midnight Neangir did not hear, for Zelida's father hastily laid his hand over her mouth, crying, "Oh, be silent, child!

Would you bring upon yourself the fate of your unhappy sisters?" Hardly had he spoken when a thick black vapor rose from the precious bottle, which his rapid movement had overturned. The old slave rushed in and shrieked loudly, while Neangir, upset by this strange adventure, left the house.

He spent the rest of the night on the steps of a mosque. At dawn, he took his picture out of the folds of his turban. Then, remembering Zelida's words, he asked his way to the bazaar and went straight to the shop she had described.

When Neangir asked to see some watches, the merchant produced several and pointed out the one he considered best. The price was three gold pieces, which Neangir readily agreed to pay. But the man hesitated to hand over the watch unless he knew where his customer lived.

"That is more than I know myself," replied Neangir. "I only arrived yesterday and cannot find the house where I stayed." "Well," said the merchant, "come with me, and I will take you to a good Mussulman where you will have everything you need at a small charge." Neangir agreed, and they walked through several streets until they reached the house recommended by the Jew.

On his advice, the young man paid his last gold piece in advance for food and lodging.

As soon as Neangir had dined, he shut himself in his room and thrust his hand into the folds of his turban to pull out his beloved portrait. As he did so, he touched a sealed letter hidden there without his knowledge. Seeing it was from his foster-mother Zinebi, he tore it open eagerly. Imagine his surprise when he read:

"My dearest child, This letter will tell you that you are not really our son. We believe your father was a great lord in some distant land, and inside this packet is a letter from him threatening to take revenge on us if you are not returned to him. We will always love you, but do not seek us or write to us. It will be useless."

In the same wrapper was a roll of paper with a few words in an unknown hand: "Traitors, you are no doubt in league with those magicians who have stolen the two daughters of the unfortunate Siroco and taken from them the talisman given by their father. You have kept my son from me, but I have found your hiding place and swear by the Holy Prophet to punish your crime. The stroke of my scimitar is swifter than lightning."

The unhappy Neangir, reading these letters he did not understand, felt sadder and more lonely than ever. He realized he must be the son of the man who had written to Mohammed and his wife, but he did not know where to look for him. He thought more about the people who had raised him and whom he would never see again.

To shake off his gloomy feelings and make plans for the future, Neangir left the house and walked briskly about the city until dark. He then retraced his steps and was crossing the threshold when he saw something sparkling at his feet in the moonlight. He picked it up and found it was a gold watch shining with precious stones. He looked up and down the street for someone who might own it, but there was no one. So he put it in his sash, beside the silver watch he had bought that morning.

This good fortune cheered Neangir a little. "I can sell these jewels for at least a thousand sequins," he thought, "and that will last me until I find my father." Consoled, he laid both watches beside him and prepared to sleep.

In the middle of the night, he awoke suddenly and heard a soft voice speaking, which seemed to come from one of the watches. "Aurora, my sister," it whispered gently. "Did they remember to wind you up at midnight?" "No, dear Argentine," was the reply. "And you?" "They forgot me, too," answered the first voice. "It is now one o'clock, so we shall not be able to leave our prison until tomorrow—if we are not forgotten again." "We have nothing to do here," said Aurora. "We must accept our fate. Let us go."

Filled with astonishment, Neangir sat up in bed and saw by the moonlight the two watches slide to the ground and roll out of the room, past the cats' quarters. He rushed to the door and down the stairs, but the watches slipped away without his seeing them and into the street. He tried to unlock the door and follow them, but the key would not turn, so he gave up and went back to bed.

The next day, all his sorrows returned tenfold. He felt lonelier and poorer than ever. In despair, he thrust his turban on his head, stuck his sword in his belt, and left the house determined to seek an explanation from the merchant who had sold him the silver watch.

When Neangir reached the bazaar, he found the man he sought was absent from his shop, and his place was taken by another Jew. "It is my brother you want," said he. "We keep the shop in turn, and in turn go into the city to do business." "Ah, what business?" cried Neangir in fury.

"You are the brother of a scoundrel who sold me a watch that ran away in the night! But I will find it somehow, or else you shall pay for it, as you are his brother!" "What is that you say?" asked the Jew, as a crowd gathered.

"A watch that ran away? If it had been a cask of wine, your story might be true, but a watch! That is hardly possible!" "The Cadi shall say whether it is possible or not," replied Neangir, who at that moment saw the other Jew enter the bazaar.

He darted up, seized him by the arm, and dragged him to the Cadi's house. But before that, the man in the shop whispered to his brother loudly enough for Neangir to hear, "Confess nothing, or we shall both be lost."

When the Cadi was told what had happened, he ordered the crowd to be dispersed with blows, in the Turkish manner, and then asked Neangir to state his complaint. After hearing the young man's story, which seemed extraordinary, he turned to question the Jew.

Instead of answering, the Jew raised his eyes to heaven and fell down in a dead faint. The judge took no notice but told Neangir his tale was so singular he could not believe it, and that the merchant should be carried back to his house.

This enraged Neangir so much that he forgot the respect due to the Cadi and exclaimed, "Revive this fellow and force him to confess the truth!" He struck the Jew with his sword, making him scream.

"You see for yourself," said the Jew to the Cadi, "that this young man is out of his mind. I forgive his blow, but do not leave me in his power."

At that moment, the Bassa happened to pass the Cadi's house and heard the noise. He entered to ask what was happening. When the matter was explained, he looked at Neangir and asked gently how all these marvels could have happened. "My lord," replied Neangir, "I swear I have spoken the truth. Perhaps you will believe me when I tell you that I myself have been the victim of spells by people like these. For three years I was changed into a three-legged pot and only returned to human shape when one day a turban was laid on my lid."

At these words, the Bassa tore his robe for joy and embraced Neangir. "Oh, my son, my son, have I found you at last? Do you not come from the house of Mohammed and Zinebi?" "Yes, my lord," replied Neangir.

"It was they who took care of me during my misfortune and taught me by their example to be worthy of you." "Blessed be the Prophet," said the Bassa, "who has restored one of my sons to me when I least expected it!" He continued, addressing the Cadi, "You know that in the first years of my marriage I had three sons by the beautiful Zambac.

When he was three years old, a holy dervish gave the eldest a string of fine coral, saying, 'Keep this treasure carefully, be faithful to the Prophet, and you will be happy.' To the second, who now stands before you, he presented a copper plate on which the name of Mahomet was engraved in seven languages, telling him never to part from his turban, the sign of a true believer, and he would taste the greatest joy.

On the right arm of the third, the dervish clasped a bracelet, praying that his right hand should be pure and his left spotless, so he might never know sorrow.

"My eldest son neglected the dervish's counsel and terrible troubles fell on him, as also on the youngest. To protect the second from similar misfortunes, I brought him up in a lonely place under the care of a faithful servant named Gouloucou while I fought the enemies of our holy faith.

On my return from the wars, I hastened to embrace my son, but both he and Gouloucou had vanished. Only a few months ago I learned that the boy was living with a man called Mohammed, whom I suspected of stealing him.

Tell me, my son, how it came about that you fell into his hands."

"My lord," replied Neangir, "I remember little of my early years except that I lived in a castle by the seashore with an old servant. I must have been about twelve when one day as we were walking, we met a man whose face was like this Jew's, coming dancing toward us.

Suddenly I felt faint. I tried to raise my hands to my head, but they became stiff and hard. In a word, I was changed into a copper pot, and my arms formed the handle.

What happened to my companion I don't know, but I was conscious that someone picked me up and carried me away quickly.

"After some days, I was placed on the ground near a thick hedge. When I heard my captor snoring beside me, I decided to escape. I pushed through the thorns and walked steadily for about an hour. You cannot imagine, my lord, how awkward it is to walk with three legs, especially when your knees are as stiff as mine were. At length, I reached a market garden and hid deep among the cabbages, where I passed a quiet night.

"The next morning at sunrise, I felt someone stooping over me and looking closely. 'What do you have there, Zinebi?' said a man's voice from a little way off. 'The most beautiful pot in the whole world,' answered the woman beside me. 'Who would have dreamed of finding it among my cabbages!' Mohammed lifted me from the ground and looked at me with admiration. That pleased me, for everyone likes to be admired, even if he is only a pot! I was taken into the house, filled with water, and put on the fire to boil.

"For three years I led a quiet and useful life, scrubbed bright every day by Zinebi, then a young and beautiful woman. One morning, Zinebi set me on the fire with a fine fillet of beef inside to cook.

Afraid that steam would escape through the lid and spoil the stew, she looked for something to put over the cover but saw nothing handy except her husband's turban. She tied it tightly around the lid and left the room.

For the first time in three years, I felt the fire burning the soles of my feet and moved away a little—much more easily than when I escaped to Mohammed's garden. I realized I was growing taller; in a few minutes, I was a man again.

"After the third hour of prayer, Mohammed and Zinebi returned. You can guess their surprise at finding a young man in the kitchen instead of a copper pot! I told them my story, which at first they refused to believe, but finally I persuaded them I was telling the truth. For two more years I lived with them, treated like their own son, until the day they sent me to this city to seek my fortune. And now, my lords, here are the two letters I found in my turban. They may be another proof of my story."

While Neangir spoke, the blood from the Jew's wound gradually stopped flowing. At that moment, a lovely Jewess appeared in the doorway, about twenty-two years old, her hair and dress disordered as if she had fled from some great danger.

In one hand she held two crutches of white wood, and she was followed by two men. The first man Neangir knew as the brother of the Jew he had struck; in the second, he thought he recognized the person who had been near when he was changed into a pot.

Both men had a wide linen band around their thighs and held stout sticks. The Jewess approached the wounded man and laid the crutches near him. Fixing her eyes on him, she burst into tears. "Unhappy Izouf," she murmured, "why do you let yourself be led into such dangerous adventures?

Look at the consequences, not only to yourself but to your two brothers," turning to the men who had come in with her and who had sunk down on the mat at the Jew's feet.

The Bassa and his companions were struck by the beauty of the Jewess and her words. They begged her to explain. "My lords," she said, "my name is Sumi, and I am the daughter of Moizes, one of our most famous rabbis. I am the victim of my love for Izaf," pointing to the man who had entered last, "and in spite of his ingratitude, I cannot tear him from my heart. Cruel enemy of my life," she continued, turning to Izaf, "tell these gentlemen your story and that of your brothers, and try to gain your pardon by repentance."

"We three were born at the same time," said the Jew, obeying Sumi's command with a sign from the Cadi, "and are the sons of the famous Nathan Ben-Sadi, who gave us the names Izif, Izouf, and Izaf.

From our earliest years, we were taught the secrets of magic, and as we were born under the same stars, we shared the same happiness and troubles. Our mother died before I can remember, and when we were fifteen, our father fell ill with a disease that no spells could cure.

Feeling death approach, he called us to his bedside and said farewell: 'My sons, I have no riches to leave you; my only wealth was those secrets of magic. You already have some stones engraved with mystic signs, and long ago I taught you how to make others.

But you still lack the most precious talisman—the three rings of the daughters of Siroco. Try to get them, but beware of falling under the power of their beauty. Their religion is different from yours, and they are betrothed to the sons of the Bassa of the Sea.

To protect you from love that can bring only sorrow, I advise you in time of peril to seek the daughter of Moizes the Rabbi, who cherishes a hidden passion for Izaf and possesses the Book of Spells, which her father wrote with the sacred ink used for the Talmud.' So saying, our father fell back on his cushions and died, leaving us burning with desire for the three rings of the daughters of Siroco.

"No sooner were our sad duties finished than we began to inquire where these young ladies could be found. After much trouble, we learned that Siroco, their father, had fought in many wars, and his daughters, whose beauty was famous throughout the land, were named Aurora, Argentine, and Zelida."

At the second name, both the Bassa and his son started with surprise, but they said nothing, and Izaf continued. "We disguised ourselves as foreign merchants and approached the young ladies, carrying a collection of fine stones we had hired. But it was to no purpose that Nathan Ben-Sadi warned us to close our hearts against their charms! The peerless Aurora wore a garment of golden hue studded with flashing jewels; the fair-haired Argentine wore a dress of silver; and the young Zelida, loveliest of all, wore the costume of a Persian lady.

"Among other curiosities, we had a flask containing an elixir that excites love in anyone who drinks it. It had been given to me by the fair Sumi, who used it herself and was angry because I refused to drink it and return her passion.

I showed the liquid to the three maidens as they examined the precious stones, choosing those they liked best. I was about to pour some into a crystal cup when Zelida's eyes fell on a paper wrapped around the flask, which said, 'Beware lest you drink this water with any other man than him who will one day be your husband.' 'Ah, traitor!' she exclaimed.

'What snare have you laid for me?' Glancing where she pointed, I recognized Sumi's handwriting.

"By that time, my two brothers had obtained the rings of Aurora and Argentine in exchange for some merchandise they coveted. No sooner had the magic circles left their hands than the two sisters vanished completely, and in their place nothing was to be seen but a gold watch and a silver watch. At that instant, the old slave we had bribed to let us enter rushed in, announcing the return of Zelida's father. My brothers, trembling with fright, hid the watches in their turbans. While the slave attended to Zelida, who had fainted, we managed to escape.

"Fearing to be traced by the enraged Siroco, we dared not return to our lodging but took refuge with Sumi. 'Unhappy wretches!' she cried. 'Is this how you follow your father's counsel? This morning I consulted my magic books and saw you abandoning your hearts to the fatal passion that will ruin you.

No, do not think I will bear this insult! It was I who wrote the letter that stopped Zelida from drinking the elixir of love! As for you,' she went on, turning to my brothers, 'you do not yet know what those two watches will cost you!

You can learn now, and the knowledge will only make your lives more miserable.' She held out the sacred book written by Moizes and pointed to these lines: 'If at midnight the watches are wound with the key of gold and the key of silver, they will resume their proper shapes during the first hour of the day.

They will always remain under the care of a woman and will come back to her wherever they may be. And the woman appointed to guard them is the daughter of Moizes.' My brothers were furious when they saw themselves outwitted, but there was no help.

The watches were delivered to Sumi, and they went their way. I stayed behind, curious to see what would happen.

"As night wore on, Sumi wound up both watches. When midnight struck, Aurora and her sister appeared. They knew nothing of what had occurred and thought they had just woken up. But when Sumi told them of their terrible fate, they sobbed with despair and were only consoled when Sumi promised never to forsake them. Then one o'clock sounded, and they became watches again.

"All night I was prey to vague fears. I felt something unseen pushing me on, though I didn't know where. At dawn I went out and met Izif in the street, suffering from the same dread. We agreed that Constantinople was no longer safe for us, and calling Izouf, we left the city together. But we soon decided to travel separately so Siroco's spies would not recognize us easily.

"A few days later, I found myself at the door of an old castle near the sea, where a tall slave was pacing back and forth. I gave him one or two worthless jewels, which loosened his tongue.

He told me he served the son of the Bassa of the Sea, who was away at war. The youth, he said, had been destined from boyhood to marry the daughter of Siroco, whose sisters were to be the brides of his brothers. He also spoke of the talisman his charge possessed.

But I could think only of the beautiful Zelida, and my passion, which I thought I had conquered, awoke in full force.

"To remove this dangerous rival, I resolved to kidnap him. I began to act mad, singing and dancing loudly, and called to the slave to fetch the boy to see my tricks. He agreed, and both were so amused that they laughed till tears ran down their cheeks and tried to imitate me.

Then I said I was thirsty and asked the slave to fetch me water. While he was gone, I advised the youth to take off his turban to cool his head. He gladly complied, and in an instant, he was changed into a pot.

A cry from the slave warned me I had no time to lose, so I snatched up the pot and fled like the wind.

"You have heard, my lords, what became of the pot. I will only say that when I awoke, it had disappeared. But I was partly consoled when I found my two brothers fast asleep near me. 'How did you get here?' I asked.

'And what has happened since we parted?' 'Alas!' replied Izouf. 'We were passing a wayside inn from which came sounds of songs and laughter. Fools that we were, we entered and sat down. Circassian girls of great beauty were dancing for the amusement of several men, who not only received us politely but placed us near the two loveliest maidens.

Our happiness was complete, and time flew unknown to us. Then one of the Circassians leaned forward and said to her sister, "Their brother danced, and they must dance too." What they meant, I don't know, but perhaps you can tell us.'

"'I understand quite well,' I replied. 'They were thinking of the day I stole the son of the Bassa and danced before him.' 'Perhaps you are right,' continued Izouf. 'The two ladies took our hands and danced with us until we were exhausted.

When we sat down again to the table, we drank more wine than was good for us. Our heads grew so confused that when the men jumped up and threatened to kill us, we could not resist.

They robbed us of everything we had, including the most precious possessions—the two talismans of the daughters of Siroco.' Not knowing what else to do, we all returned to Constantinople to ask Sumi's advice. We found she already knew of our misfortunes from reading the Book of Moizes.

The kind-hearted creature wept bitterly but, being poor herself, could give us little help. At last, I proposed that every morning we sell the silver watch into which Argentine was changed, since it would return to Sumi every evening unless wound with the silver key—which was unlikely.

Sumi agreed, but only on condition that we learn the house where the watch was sold, so she could also bring Aurora there. For some weeks we have lived this way, and the two daughters of Siroco have always returned to Sumi each night.

Yesterday Izouf sold the silver watch to this young man. In the evening, by Sumi's order, he placed the gold watch on the steps just before his customer entered the house. From there both watches came back early this morning.'

"If I had only known!" cried Neangir. "If I had been quicker, I would have seen the lovely Argentine. If her portrait is so fair, what must the original be!" "It was not your fault," replied the Cadi. "You are no magician.

Who could guess the watch must be wound at such an hour? I will order the merchant to hand it over to you, and this evening you will certainly not forget." "It is impossible to have it today," answered Izouf.

"It is already sold." "If that is so," said the Cadi, "you must return the three gold pieces the young man paid." The Jew, delighted to escape so easily, put his hand in his pocket, but Neangir stopped him. "No, no," he exclaimed.

"It is not money I want, but the adorable Argentine. Without her, everything is worthless." "My dear Cadi," said the Bassa, "he is right. The treasure my son has lost is priceless." "My lord," replied the Cadi, "your wisdom is greater than mine.

Please give judgment in the matter." So the Bassa bade them all accompany him to his house and commanded his slaves not to lose sight of the three Jewish brothers.

When they arrived at the door, he noticed two women sitting on a bench nearby, thickly veiled and beautifully dressed. Their wide satin trousers were embroidered in silver, and their muslin robes were of the finest texture.

One held a pink silk bag tied with green ribbons, containing something that seemed to move. At the approach of the Bassa, both ladies rose and came toward him. The one with the bag said, "Noble lord, buy this bag, I pray you, without asking what it contains." "How much do you want for it?" asked the Bassa.

"Three hundred sequins," replied the unknown. The Bassa laughed contemptuously and passed on without speaking. "You will not regret your bargain," the woman went on. "Perhaps if we return tomorrow, you will be glad to give us four hundred sequins.

And the next day the price will be five hundred." "Come away," said her companion, taking her sleeve. "Do not stay longer. It may cry, and our secret will be discovered." So saying, the two young women disappeared.

The Jews were left in the front hall under the care of the slaves. Neangir and Sumi followed the Bassa inside the house, which was magnificently furnished. At one end of a large, brightly lit room, a lady of about thirty-five reclined on a couch, still beautiful despite her sad expression.

"Incomparable Zambac," said the Bassa, "give me your thanks, for here is the lost son for whom you have shed so many tears." Before his mother could embrace him, Neangir flung himself at her feet. "Let the whole house rejoice with me," continued the Bassa.

"Let my two sons Ibrahim and Hassan be told to embrace their brother." "Alas, my lord!" said Zambac. "Do you forget that this is the hour when Hassan weeps on his hand and Ibrahim gathers his coral beads?" "Let the command of the Prophet be obeyed," replied the Bassa.

"We will wait until evening." "Forgive me, noble lord," interrupted Sumi. "What is this mystery? With the help of the Book of Spells, I may be of some use." "Sumi," answered the Bassa, "I owe you the happiness of my life.

Come with me; the sight of my unhappy sons will tell you better than words."

The Bassa rose and drew aside the hangings leading to a large hall, followed closely by Neangir and Sumi. There they saw two young men, about seventeen and nineteen. The younger sat before a table, his forehead resting on his right hand, which he watered with tears.

He raised his head when his father entered, and Neangir and Sumi saw that this hand was black as ebony. The other man busily collected coral beads scattered all over the floor, placing them on the same table where his brother sat.

He had gathered ninety-eight beads and thought they were all there, but they suddenly rolled off, and he had to begin again. "Do you see," whispered the Bassa, "for three hours daily he collects these beads, and for the same time the other mourns his blackened hand.

I am ignorant of the cause of either misfortune." "Do not stay here," said Sumi. "Our presence must add to their grief. Let me fetch the Book of Spells, which will tell us the cause and cure." The Bassa readily agreed, but Neangir objected strongly.

"If Sumi leaves," he said to his father, "I will not see my beloved Argentine when she returns tonight with Aurora. Life is an eternity until I see her." "Be comforted," replied Sumi. "I will be back before sunset, and I leave you my adored Izaf as a pledge."

Scarcely had the Jewess left when the old female slave entered the hall where the three Jews were guarded, followed by a man whose splendid dress made Neangir recognize him as the person in whose house he had dined two days before. The woman he knew at once as Zelida's nurse.

He started forward, but before he could speak, the slave turned to the soldier she was accompanying. "My lord," she said, "those are the men. I have tracked them from the Cadi's house to this palace. They are the same. I am not mistaken.

Strike and avenge yourself." As he listened, the stranger's face grew scarlet with anger. He drew his sword and would have rushed on the Jews, but Neangir and the Bassa's slaves seized him. "What are you doing?" cried Neangir.

"How dare you attack those whom the Bassa protects?" "Ah, my son," replied the soldier, "the Bassa would withdraw his protection if he knew these wretches have robbed me of all I hold dear. He knows them as little as he knows you." "But he knows me very well," replied Neangir, "for he has recognized me as his son.

Come with me to his presence." The stranger bowed and passed through the curtain. Neangir's surprise was great when he saw his father spring forward and embrace the soldier. "What! Is it you, my dear Siroco?" cried the Bassa.

"I believed you were slain in that battle when the followers of the Prophet were put to flight. But why do your eyes kindle with flames? Calm yourself and tell me what I can do to help. See, I have found my son.

Let that be a good omen for your happiness too."

"I did not guess," answered Siroco, "that the son you had mourned so long had returned. Some days ago, the Prophet appeared to me in a dream, floating in a circle of light, and said, 'Go tomorrow at sunset to the Galata Gate, and there you will find a young man you must bring home. He is the second son of the Bassa of the Sea. So that you may not be mistaken, put your fingers in his turban and you will feel the plaque on which my name is engraved in seven languages.'"

"I did as I was told," continued Siroco. "I was charmed with his face and manner, and I made him fall in love with Argentine, whose portrait I gave him. But as I rejoiced in the happiness before me, looking forward to restoring your son to you, some drops of the elixir of love spilt on the table, causing a thick vapor.

When it cleared, he was gone. This morning my old slave told me she had found the traitors who stole my daughters, and I hastened here to avenge them. But I place myself in your hands and will follow your counsel." "Fate will favor us, I am sure," said the Bassa.

"This very night I expect to secure both the silver and gold watches. Send at once and pray Zelida to join us."

A rustling of silks drew their eyes to the door, and Ibrahim and Hassan, whose daily penance was over, entered to embrace their brother. Neangir and Hassan, who had also drunk the elixir of love, could think of nothing but the beautiful ladies who had captured their hearts. Ibrahim's spirits were cheered by the news that the daughter of Moizes hoped to find in the Book of Spells a charm to deliver him from collecting the magic beads.

Some hours later, Sumi returned with the sacred book. "See," she said, beckoning to Hassan. "Your destiny is written here." Hassan stooped and read in Hebrew: "His right hand has become black as ebony from touching the fat of an impure animal, and will remain so until the last of its race is drowned in the sea." "Alas!" sighed the unfortunate youth.

"I remember now. One day, the slave of Zambac was making a cake. She warned me not to touch it, as it was mixed with lard, but I did not listen, and my hand became the ebony it is now." "Holy dervish!" exclaimed the Bassa. "How true your words were!

My son has neglected the advice you gave him with the bracelet and has been severely punished. But tell me, wise Sumi, where I can find the last of that accursed race?" "It is written here," replied Sumi, turning some leaves.

"The little black pig is in the pink bag carried by the two Circassians." The Bassa sank onto his cushions in despair. "Ah! That is the bag offered to me this morning for three hundred sequins. Those must be the women who made Izif and Izouf dance and took the two talismans.

They alone can break the spell. Let them be found, and I will gladly give them half my possessions. Fool that I am for sending them away!"

While the Bassa lamented, Ibrahim opened the book and blushed deeply as he read: "The chaplet of beads has been defiled by the game of 'Odd and Even.' Its owner tried to cheat by hiding one of the numbers. Let the faithless Moslem seek forever the missing bead." "O heaven," cried Ibrahim.

"That unhappy day comes back to me. I cut the thread of the chaplet while playing with Aurora. Holding the ninety-nine beads, she guessed 'Odd.' To make her lose, I let one bead fall from my hand.

Since then I have sought it daily, but it was never found." "Holy dervish!" cried the Bassa. "How true your words were! Since the sacred chaplet was no longer complete, my son has borne the penalty. But does the Book of Spells tell us how to deliver Ibrahim also?" "Listen," said Sumi.

"This is what I find: 'The coral bead lies in the fifth fold of the dress of yellow brocade.'" "Ah, what good fortune!" exclaimed the Bassa. "We shall soon see the beautiful Aurora, and Ibrahim shall search the fifth fold of her yellow brocade.

For it is surely she of whom the book speaks."

As the Jewess closed the Book of Moizes, Zelida appeared, accompanied by a train of slaves and her old nurse. At her entrance, Hassan, beside himself with joy, fell on his knees and kissed her hand. "My lord," he said to the Bassa, "pardon me these transports.

No elixir of love was needed to inflame my heart! Let the marriage rite make us one quickly." "My son, are you mad?" asked the Bassa. "Shall you alone be happy while your brothers suffer? Whoever heard of a bridegroom with a black hand?

Wait a little longer, until the black pig is drowned in the sea." "Yes, dear Hassan," said Zelida. "Our happiness will be tenfold greater when my sisters regain their proper shapes. Here is the elixir I have brought, so their joy may equal ours." She held out the flask to the Bassa, who had it sealed in his presence.

Zambac was filled with joy at the sight of Zelida and embraced her with delight. She led the way into the garden and invited everyone to sit under the thick overhanging branches of a splendid jassmine tree.

No sooner were they settled than they heard a man's voice speaking angrily on the other side of the wall. "Ungrateful girls!" it said. "Is this how you treat me? Let me hide forever! This cave is no longer dark or deep enough for me!" A burst of laughter was the only answer, and the voice continued, "What have I done to earn such contempt?

Was this what you promised when I got you the talismans of beauty? Is this the reward I have a right to expect after giving you the little black pig, which will bring you good luck?" At these words, the listeners' curiosity knew no bounds.

The Bassa commanded his slaves to tear down the wall at once. They did, but the man was nowhere to be seen. Only two girls of extraordinary beauty stood there, seeming quite at ease, and they came dancing gaily onto the terrace.

With them was an old slave in whom the Bassa recognized Gouloucou, the former guardian of Neangir. Gouloucou shrank with fear when he saw the Bassa, expecting death for allowing Neangir to be stolen. But the Bassa made signs of forgiveness and asked how he had escaped death after throwing himself from the cliff.

Gouloucou explained that he had been picked up by a dervish who cured his wounds and then gave him as a slave to the two young ladies before the company, and he had served them ever since.

"But," said the Bassa, "where is the little black pig of which the voice spoke?" "My lord," answered one of the ladies, "when the wall was thrown down, the man you heard talking was so frightened that he caught up the pig and ran away." "Let him be pursued at once!" cried the Bassa.

But the ladies smiled. "Do not be alarmed, my lord," said one. "He is sure to return. Only give orders that the entrance to the cave be guarded so that when he is in, he cannot get out again."

By now night was falling. They all went back to the palace, where coffee and fruits were served in a splendid gallery near the women's apartments. The Bassa ordered the three Jews to be brought before him to see if they were the two damsels who had forced them to dance.

But to his great vexation, it was found that when their guards had gone to knock down the wall, the Jews had escaped. At this news, Sumi turned pale, but glancing at the Book of Spells, her face brightened, and she said half aloud, "There is no cause for worry; they will capture the dervish." Hassan lamented loudly that as soon as fortune appeared on one side, she fled on the other.

Hearing this, one of the Bassa's pages burst into laughter. "This fortune comes dancing, my lord," he said, "and the other leaves on crutches. Do not worry. She will not go very far." The Bassa, shocked at his impertinence, ordered him to leave the room and not return until sent for.

"My lord shall be obeyed," said the page, "but when I return, it will be in such good company that you will welcome me gladly." So saying, he went out.

When they were alone, Neangir turned to the fair strangers and begged for their help. "My brothers and I," he said, "are filled with love for three peerless maidens, two of whom are under a cruel spell.

If their fate were in your hands, would you not do all you could to restore them to happiness and freedom?" But the young man's appeal only stirred the two ladies to anger. "What," exclaimed one, "are the sorrows of lovers to us?

Fate has deprived us of our lovers, and if it depends on us, the whole world shall suffer as much as we do!" This unexpected reply was heard with amazement by all present. The Bassa begged the speaker to tell her story. Having obtained permission from her sister, she began: