Page:The Strand Magazine (Volume 2).djvu/17

 What he feared most was brigands; he was in a state of abject dread of them. He had one or two little things which he valued about him, and a small amount of money as well; and, when we came up, he was imploring Johannes to intercede for him that he might be allowed to accompany us and enjoy the protection of our escort for such time as our way lay in his direction. Seven times a day would he kiss the hems of our garments if need be, to say nothing of prostrating himself each night before the setting sun to supplicate the blessings of Allah on the kindly pashas who had afforded him this much-coveted protection.

We were quite willing he should accompany us, and, moreover, gave him the additional advantage of riding in our areba.

He would "grovel in the sand to serve us"; he would remember when in Paradise (he seemed sure of his ethereal destination) the services we had rendered him, and perpetually sing our praises.

From the point of view of futurity, our wanderer had been a good investment, and we metaphorically patted each other on the back as good Samaritans. So it was that days and nights succeeded each other in which we received ample recompense in blessings for the protection we were affording. Five days had in all passed, and night had closed in, when our fellow traveller, having shared our frugal meal, as usual, and discussed equally, as usual, our post-prandial café noir, was smoking his last pipe before retiring to rest, when (my dragoman translating) he volunteered the following story:—

"Once upon a time, O mighty white Pashas," he began, with a delightful Oriental vagueness as to period, "once upon a time, there dwelt at Teheran a mighty monarch and a miserable mendicant. The monarch’s wealth was abundant, and the eyes of his lovely daughter Myrrah were as lode-stars in the rays of which he basked. As far as this world’s possessions were concerned he had nothing left to desire, yet was he the most miserable man in all Persia; for in his youth he had violated (no matter how) the confidence of his best friend, and now old age was creeping upon him so rapidly that he feared insufficient time for repentance would be left him.

"Now, one day while riding in the vicinity of his palace, he noticed a starving mendicant lying by the wayside, and he felt that in him Allah had afforded him an opportunity for doing good as a means by which to compensate for his youthful shortcomings.

"So he bade the beggar rise and follow him. Then for his rags were substituted fine raiment, and he not only showered upon him untold wealth, but made him even the highest officer in his royal household, his Grand Vizier.

"Now, what did that Grand Vizier do? Did he sing the praises of his deliverer from cockcrow to sundown?

"No, he did not; he did nothing of the kind. He added to his obligations by falling desperately in love with the king’s only daughter, the princess Myrrah, whose eyes, you will remember, were as lode-stars and whose complexion blended in one the beauties of the lily and the rose, and whose lips were 'ruddier than the cherry'; and he said unto her: 'Take of thy father's jewels and gold all thou canst secure, and I also will do the same, he has enough and to spare. And, when we have gathered together all that cometh within our reach, we will journey hence together while your royal father the king sleepeth, and none shall know whither.'

"And this, O pashas, in the dead of night they did, so that when the monarch awoke in the morning he found himself, not only robbed of his most valuable worldly possessions, but, above all, discovered himself to be childless.

There is no gratitude in this world,"' [sic] said the king. 'In striving by good deeds to erase bad ones, I have but proved that the ready-witted rogue is the winner in the long run.

This was the strange philosophy of the wanderer's story on which I pondered when, half an hour later, all others in the khan were wrapped in slumber.

At the first grey streak of dawn I awoke, and felt, as was my custom, in my waistcoat pocket for my watch, that I might time our uprising.

It was gone! Not the waistcoat, but the watch. The chain had been nipped by a sharp instrument, many sovereigns too had been dexterously abstracted from my gold belt.

Several other correspondents had suffered somewhat similarly. An entry must have been made in the night. We all hoped the poor stranger with his small stock of hard-earned valuables, which he cherished