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She said: It has reached me, O fortunate King, that in times long past, during the caliphate of Harun al-Rashid, there lived a merchant who had a son named Abu al-Hasan Ali ibn Tahir. He was wealthy and generous, handsome in appearance, and beloved by all who saw him. He entered the caliphal palace without asking leave, and all the caliph’s concubines and slave girls were fond of him. He kept the sovereign company over wine, recited poetry to him, and entertained him with curious tales. Yet he still bought and sold in the merchants’ market. A young man descended from the kings of Persia, named Ali ibn Bakkar, used to sit with him in his shop. This youth was graceful in stature, elegant in form, and perfect in beauty, with rosy cheeks, meeting eyebrows, sweet speech, and a ready smile; he delighted in merriment and good cheer. One day, as the two sat talking and laughing, ten slave girls appeared, lovely as moons, each endowed with beauty and a graceful figure. Among them was a young woman riding a mule with an embroidered saddle and golden stirrups. She wore a fine mantle, and about her waist was a silken sash embroidered with gold. As the poet said of her:

Her skin is silk, her speech a gentle melody, neither idle nor too spare. Her eyes—God said to them, “Be,” and they were—work upon the mind as wine will do. O love of her, increase my anguish every night! O solace from the beloved, we shall not meet till Judgment Day. When they reached Abu al-Hasan’s shop, she dismounted and sat down there. She greeted him, and he returned her greeting. At the sight of her, Ali ibn Bakkar lost his senses and made to rise, but she said to him, “Stay where you are. How can you leave when we have just arrived? That is hardly fair.” He replied, “By God, my lady, I am fleeing from what I have seen. How well the poet spoke:

She is the sun, whose dwelling is in heaven: console your heart with seemly resignation. You cannot climb to her, nor can she descend to you.” When she heard these words, she smiled and asked Abu al-Hasan, “What is this young man’s name, and where does he come from?” He answered, “He is a stranger here, named Ali ibn Bakkar, the son of a Persian king, and a stranger should be treated with honor.” She said, “When my maid comes to you, bring him to my house.” “Upon my head,” replied Abu al-Hasan. Then she rose and went on her way.

Such was her part in the affair. As for Ali ibn Bakkar, he scarcely knew what he was saying. An hour later, the maid came to Abu al-Hasan and said, “My mistress asks for you and your companion.” Abu al-Hasan rose, took Ali ibn Bakkar with him, and went to the palace of Harun al-Rashid. The maid led them into a private chamber and seated them. Tables were set before them, and they ate and washed their hands. Then she brought them wine, and they drank until they were tipsy. She bade them rise, and they followed her into another chamber, raised upon four columns, furnished with every kind of rich furnishing and adorned so splendidly that it seemed one of the palaces of Paradise. They were astonished by the treasures they saw. While they were gazing at these marvels, ten slave girls approached, swaying proudly as they walked, like moons that dazzled the eyes and bewildered the mind. They ranged themselves in a row like the maidens of Paradise. After them came ten more, carrying lutes and other instruments of music and delight. They greeted the two men, then began to play their lutes and sing verses, each girl a temptation to mankind. After them came another ten, young women of an age, with rounded breasts, black eyes, red cheeks, meeting eyebrows, and languid glances: a temptation to the devout and a delight to the beholder. Their colored silks were enough to bewilder the mind. They stood by the door, and ten more followed, lovelier still and dressed in sumptuous garments, and these too stood by the door. Then twenty slave girls came through the doorway, and among them was a young woman named Shams al-Nahar, like the moon among the stars. Her long hair lay about her like a shawl. She wore a blue gown and a silken mantle embroidered with gold, and about her waist was a girdle set with jewels of every kind. She advanced with a stately, swaying gait and seated herself upon the couch. When Ali ibn Bakkar saw her, he recited these verses:

Here begins my sickness, my enduring longing and my endless love. Before her I have seen my very soul dissolve with passion, and yearning wear away my bones. When he had finished, he said to Abu al-Hasan, “Had you wished to do me a kindness, you would have told me of all this before bringing me here, so that I might have prepared my soul and taught it patience under what has befallen it.” Then he wept and lamented. Abu al-Hasan said, “My brother, I wished you nothing but good. But I feared that if I told you, longing would so overcome you that it would keep you from meeting her and stand between you and union with her. Take heart and be glad: your good fortune has brought her to you, and she herself is seeking to meet you.” Ali ibn Bakkar asked, “What is this young woman’s name?” Abu al-Hasan replied, “She is called Shams al-Nahar, and she is one of the favorites of the Commander of the Faithful, Harun al-Rashid. This is the caliphal palace.” Shams al-Nahar sat gazing at Ali ibn Bakkar’s beauty, while he gazed at hers, and each was absorbed in love for the other. She ordered the slave girls to take their places on couches, each opposite an arched opening, and bade them sing. One of them took up the lute and sang:

Send your message once again, and take your answer openly. Before you, king of all the fair, I stand to plead my plight. My lord, my precious heart, my dearest life, bestow a kiss on me—a gift, or else a loan. I shall return it to you, may you live long, unchanged and just as it was. And if you wish for more, take more, to your heart’s content. You who have clothed me in wasting sickness, may you rejoice in the robe of health. Ali ibn Bakkar was delighted and said, “Give me more verses like these.” She touched the strings and sang:

Through long separation, my beloved, I have taught my eyelids endless weeping. O joy of my eyes, their heart’s desire, my utmost hope, my faith, have pity on one whose eyes are drowned in the tears of a sorrowing lover. When she had finished, Shams al-Nahar said to another girl, “Sing.” She charmed them with her melodies and sang these verses:

It was his glance, not his wine, that made me drunk; his swaying gait drove sleep from my eyes. Not the vintage but his curling locks enthralled me; not the wine but his gracious ways swept me away. The twisted curls at his temples twisted my resolve, and what his robes conceal stole away my reason. Hearing the girl’s song, Shams al-Nahar sighed, delighted by the verses. Then she ordered another girl to sing, and she sang:

A face that vies in splendor with the lamp of heaven, fresh with the dew of youth. The down upon his cheeks has traced its letters upon their silken veils, and in their folds lies all the meaning of love. When I met him, Beauty cried aloud, “Here is God’s own delicate embroidery!” When she had finished, Ali ibn Bakkar said to a girl seated near him, “Now you sing, maiden.” She took the lute and sang these verses:

The time of union is too brief for all this lingering and coyness. How much cruel turning away! This is not the way of the beautiful. Seize the happy hour and savor the sweetness of being together. When she had finished, Ali ibn Bakkar sighed and let his tears flow freely. Seeing him weep, moan, and lament, Shams al-Nahar burned with longing and passion, consumed by love and distraction. She rose from her couch and came to the entrance of the domed pavilion. Ali ibn Bakkar rose to meet her, and they embraced and fell unconscious in the doorway. The slave girls hurried to them, carried them inside, and sprinkled them with rosewater. When they revived, they could not see Abu al-Hasan, who had hidden beside a couch. “Where is Abu al-Hasan?” the young woman asked. He emerged from beside the couch, and she greeted him, saying, “May God grant me the means to repay your kindness, O generous friend.” Then she turned to Ali ibn Bakkar and said, “My lord, whatever extremity love has brought you to, I have suffered its like many times over. We can only endure what has befallen us.” Ali ibn Bakkar replied, “By God, my lady, only union with you can sweeten my life. The fire within me will never cease to burn for you, nor will the love rooted in my heart depart until my soul departs with it.” Then he wept, and his tears fell down his cheeks like rain. When Shams al-Nahar saw him weeping, she wept with him. Abu al-Hasan said, “By God, you amaze and bewilder me. Yours is a strange condition and a wondrous affair. You weep like this while you are together—what will become of you when you are parted?” Then he added, “This is no time for grief and tears, but for joy and delight.” Shams al-Nahar motioned to a maid, who rose and returned with attendants bearing a table set with silver dishes containing all kinds of food. They placed it before them, and Shams al-Nahar began to eat and feed morsels to Ali ibn Bakkar until all had eaten their fill. The table was removed, and they washed their hands. Censers were brought with various kinds of aloeswood, and flasks of rosewater; they perfumed themselves with the incense and scented water. Engraved golden trays were set before them, laden with wines, fruits, and sweetmeats to delight the heart and please the eye. Then an agate basin full of wine was brought. Shams al-Nahar chose ten attendants to stand beside her and ten singing girls, and sent the rest back to their quarters. She bade some of those who remained play the lute. They obeyed, and one of them sang:

I would ransom with my life the one who returned my greeting with a smile, renewing my hope of union after despair. The hands of passion have laid bare my secrets, revealing to my reproachers all that lies within my breast. My tears have come between him and me, as though my tears too were in love with him. When she had finished, Shams al-Nahar rose, filled the cup, and drank it. Then she filled it again and handed it to Ali ibn Bakkar. But morning overtook Shahrazad, and she fell silent, leaving her tale untold.

When it was the hundred and fifty-fourth night

She said: It has reached me, O fortunate King, that Shams al-Nahar filled the cup and handed it to Ali ibn Bakkar, then ordered a girl to sing. She sang these two verses: My flowing tears are so like my wine that my eyes pour forth the very liquor in my cup. By God, I cannot tell whether my eyelids stream with wine or whether it is my tears I drink. When she had finished, Ali ibn Bakkar drank his cup and returned it to Shams al-Nahar. She filled it and passed it to Abu al-Hasan, who drank. Then she took the lute and said, “No one but I shall sing over my cup.” She tuned the strings and sang these verses:

The wondrous tears upon his cheeks consume him with longing, while the fire of passion burns within his breast. Even in their presence he weeps for fear of parting: his tears flow whether they are near or far. And these words of the poet:

We would ransom you, cupbearer, whom beauty has clothed from your shining crown to your feet. The sun rises from your hands, the Pleiades from your mouth, and the full moon from your collar. The cups that robbed me of sobriety are passed to me from your eyes. Is it not a marvel that you are a moon at the full, while your lovers dwindle into darkness? Are you a god, who kills and brings to life whomever you please by meeting or parting? God fashioned beauty from your nature, and the sweetness of the breeze from your character. You are not of this mortal race, but a king crowned by your Creator. When Ali ibn Bakkar, Abu al-Hasan, and all those present heard Shams al-Nahar’s verses, they nearly flew with delight, and laughed and made merry. While they were thus occupied, a maid came in trembling with fear and said, “My lady, the Commander of the Faithful has arrived. He is at the door with Afif, Masrur, and others.” At her words, they nearly died of fright, but Shams al-Nahar laughed and said, “Do not be afraid.” Then she told the maid, “Keep them occupied with an answer until we have moved from here.” She ordered the pavilion door closed and its curtains drawn, with the men still inside, and had the door of the hall shut as well. Then she went out into the garden, sat upon her couch, and bade a maid massage her feet. She sent the other girls to their places and ordered the door left open for the caliph to enter. Masrur and his companions came in, twenty men bearing swords, and greeted Shams al-Nahar. “What brings you here?” she asked. They replied, “The Commander of the Faithful sends you his greetings. He longs to see you and tells you that today has brought him exceptional happiness and good fortune. He wishes to crown his pleasure with your company at this hour. Will you come to him, or shall he come to you?” She rose, kissed the ground, and said, “I hear and obey the command of the Commander of the Faithful.” Then she summoned the mistresses of the household and the slave girls, and they came. She made a show of preparing to fulfill the caliph’s command, though everything was already in perfect order. Then she said to the servants, “Go to the Commander of the Faithful and tell him I shall shortly be ready to receive him, once I have prepared a place with the proper furnishings and appointments.” The servants hurried back to the caliph. Shams al-Nahar rose and went in to her beloved Ali ibn Bakkar, clasped him to her breast, and bade him farewell. He wept bitterly and said, “My lady, let me savor this farewell, for it may cost me my life and my soul may perish for love of you. Yet I ask God to grant me patience under the love with which He has afflicted me.” Shams al-Nahar answered, “By God, it is I alone who will perish. You can go out to the market and meet someone who may comfort you; you will be safe, and your passion will remain concealed. But I shall fall into peril, especially now that I have promised to receive the caliph. My longing for you, my love and passion, and my grief at parting from you may expose me to terrible danger. With what tongue shall I sing? With what heart shall I appear before the caliph? What words shall I find to entertain the Commander of the Faithful? With what eyes shall I look upon a place where you are not? How can I sit in a gathering you do not attend? What savor can wine have when you are not there?” Abu al-Hasan said to her, “Do not lose your wits. Be patient, and do not neglect to entertain the Commander of the Faithful tonight or show him any want of attention.”

While they were speaking, a maid came and said, “My lady, the Commander of the Faithful’s attendants have arrived.” Shams al-Nahar rose at once and told her, “Take Abu al-Hasan and his companion up to the highest projecting window overlooking the garden. Leave them there until dark, then find a way to get them out.” The maid took them up to the windowed gallery, locked the door behind them, and went away. They looked out over the garden and saw the caliph approaching, preceded by some hundred servants bearing swords. Around him were twenty slave girls, lovely as moons, dressed in the most splendid garments, each wearing a crown set with gems and rubies and carrying a lighted candle. The caliph walked among them, surrounded on every side, with Masrur, Afif, and Wasif before him, advancing with a swaying gait. Shams al-Nahar and all her girls rose to meet him at the garden gate and kissed the ground before him. They walked ahead of him until he took his seat upon the couch. The girls and servants in the garden stood about him, candles burning and instruments playing, until he bade them withdraw and sit upon the couches. Shams al-Nahar seated herself on a couch beside his and began to converse with him. All this Abu al-Hasan and Ali ibn Bakkar saw and heard, though the caliph could not see them.

The caliph began to make merry with Shams al-Nahar and ordered the pavilion opened. Its doors and arched windows were thrown wide, and candles were lit until, though it was dark outside, the place shone like day. The servants began bringing in the drinking vessels. Abu al-Hasan said, “Never have I seen the like of these vessels, wines, and treasures. Here are jewels of kinds I have never even heard of. I feel as though I were dreaming. My mind is bewildered, and my heart is pounding.” As for Ali ibn Bakkar, ever since Shams al-Nahar had left him he had lain upon the floor, overcome by love. When he recovered, he began to watch these incomparable sights and said to Abu al-Hasan, “My brother, I fear the caliph may see us or learn our secret. My greatest fear is for you. As for me, I know that I am doomed, and nothing will kill me but love and passion, excessive longing and distraction. We ask God to deliver us from this affliction.” Ali ibn Bakkar and Abu al-Hasan continued watching the caliph and his entertainment from the gallery until the gathering before him was complete. Then the caliph turned to one of the girls and said, “Gharam, let us hear what delightful music you have for us.” She charmed them with her melodies and sang these verses:

No Bedouin woman whose people have departed, who yearns for the moringa and myrtle of the Hijaz, who, whenever she spies a caravan, provides the fire for its welcome from her longing and the water for its beasts from her tears, knows a yearning greater than mine for my beloved—yet he thinks my love for him a sin. When Shams al-Nahar heard these verses, she fell unconscious from her chair and lost all awareness. The slave girls rose and carried her away. Seeing her from the gallery, Ali ibn Bakkar too fell unconscious. Abu al-Hasan said, “Fate has divided passion equally between you.” While they were thus occupied, the maid who had brought them up came and said, “Abu al-Hasan, rise with your companion and come down. The world has closed in upon us, and I fear our secret will be discovered. Get up at once, or we shall die.” Abu al-Hasan replied, “How can this young man rise with me when he has no strength to stand?” The maid sprinkled rosewater on his face until he revived. Then she and Abu al-Hasan carried him down from the gallery and went a little way. She opened a small iron door and brought the two men out onto a landing. Then she clapped her hands, and a boat appeared with a man rowing it. She helped them aboard and told the boatman, “Take them to the other bank.” When they had boarded and left the garden behind, Ali ibn Bakkar looked back at the pavilion and the garden and bade them farewell with these two verses:

I stretched out one feeble hand in farewell, while the other lay upon burning coals beneath my heart. May this not be our last meeting, nor these provisions the last I take away. Then the maid said to the boatman, “Make haste with them.” He rowed swiftly, with the maid still aboard. But morning overtook Shahrazad, and she fell silent, leaving her tale untold.

When it was the hundred and fifty-fifth night

She said: It has reached me, O fortunate King, that the boatman rowed swiftly, with the maid aboard, until they had crossed from that bank to the other. Then the maid bade the two men farewell as they went ashore and said, “I wished not to leave you, but I cannot go any farther than this.” She returned, while Ali ibn Bakkar lay before Abu al-Hasan, unable to rise. Abu al-Hasan said to him, “This place is not safe. We may lose our lives here to thieves and other villains.” Ali ibn Bakkar rose and struggled to walk a little, though he could scarcely take a step. Abu al-Hasan had friends on that side of the river, so he made for the house of one whom he trusted and could rely upon. He knocked, and the man came out quickly. At the sight of them, he welcomed them, brought them inside, seated them, and began to talk with them, asking where they had been. Abu al-Hasan said, “We came out at this hour because of a man with whom I had dealings in money. I heard that he intended to travel, taking my money with him, so I went to find him tonight and brought my friend Ali ibn Bakkar for company. We hoped to see him, but he hid from us, and we could not find him. We came away empty-handed, and the journey home at this hour seemed too difficult. We could think of nowhere to go but your house, so we came, trusting in your customary kindness.” He welcomed them warmly and did his utmost to honor them, and they stayed with him for the rest of the night.

In the morning they left him and walked until they reached the city and entered it. Passing Abu al-Hasan’s house, he insisted that his friend Ali ibn Bakkar come inside. They lay down for a little while, then awoke. Abu al-Hasan ordered his servants to furnish the room richly, and they did so. He said to himself, “I must keep this young man company and distract him from his suffering, for I know his plight best.” When Ali ibn Bakkar awoke, he called for water. They brought it, and he rose, performed his ablutions, and made up the obligatory prayers he had missed during the day and night. Then he tried to comfort himself with conversation. Seeing this, Abu al-Hasan approached him and said, “My lord Ali, in your present state it would be best to stay with me tonight, so that your heart may find relief, your anguish of longing may ease, and you may divert yourself in our company.” Ali ibn Bakkar replied, “Do as you please, my brother. Whatever happens, I cannot escape what has befallen me, so do what you intend.” Abu al-Hasan rose, called his servants, assembled his friends, and sent for singers and musicians. They came, and the company spent the rest of the day eating, drinking, and making merry until evening. Then candles were lit, the cups went round, and the gathering grew pleasant. The singing girl took up her lute and sang:

Time shot at me the arrow of a glance, and struck me to the heart; I was parted from my loved ones. Time turned against me, and my patience failed, though once I thought myself prepared. When Ali ibn Bakkar heard the singer’s words, he fell unconscious and remained so until dawn, while Abu al-Hasan despaired of him. When daylight came, he revived and asked to go home. Fearing what might happen to him, Abu al-Hasan did not prevent him. His servants brought a mule and helped him mount, and Abu al-Hasan accompanied him all the way to his house. Once his friend was safely settled there, Abu al-Hasan thanked God for delivering him from this predicament and tried to comfort him, though Ali ibn Bakkar could not master himself for the violence of his passion. Then Abu al-Hasan bade him farewell. But morning overtook Shahrazad, and she fell silent, leaving her tale untold.

When it was the hundred and fifty-sixth night

She said: It has reached me, O fortunate King, that when Abu al-Hasan bade him farewell, Ali ibn Bakkar said, “My brother, do not fail to bring me news.” “I hear and obey,” he replied. Abu al-Hasan left him, went to his shop, opened it, and waited for news from the young woman, but no one brought him any. He spent that night at home. In the morning he rose and went to Ali ibn Bakkar’s house. He found him lying upon his bed, surrounded by friends and physicians, each prescribing some remedy and feeling his pulse. At the sight of Abu al-Hasan, Ali ibn Bakkar smiled. Abu al-Hasan greeted him, asked how he fared, and sat with him until everyone had left. Then he asked, “What is all this?” Ali ibn Bakkar replied, “Word has spread that I am ill, and my friends have heard it. I have not the strength to rise and walk about, and so disprove those who say I am sick. I have remained lying here as you see me, and my friends have come to visit. My brother, have you seen the maid or heard any news from her?” He replied, “She has not come to me since she left us on the bank of the Tigris.” Then Abu al-Hasan said, “My brother, beware of scandal and restrain these tears.” Ali ibn Bakkar answered, “My brother, I cannot control myself.” Then he heaved deep sighs and recited these verses:

A pattern upon her wrist has attained what my hand could never reach, and at the sight my endurance fails. Fearing for her hand the arrows of her own eyes, she clothed it in a coat of mail. The physician, in his ignorance, felt my wrist; I told him, “The pain is in my heart—leave my hand alone.” She said to the phantom that had visited me and returned, “By God, describe him, neither adding nor taking away.” It answered, “I left him so obedient that, were he dying of thirst, if you forbade him to approach the water, he would not go.” Then from narcissus eyes she rained down pearls to water the roses of her cheeks, and bit her jujube lips with teeth like hailstones. When he had finished, he said, “I have been struck by a calamity from which I once was safe. There is no greater comfort left to me than death.” Abu al-Hasan replied, “Be patient. Perhaps God will heal you.” He left him, went to his shop, and opened it. He had been sitting there only a short while when the maid came and greeted him. He returned her greeting and, looking at her, saw that her heart was troubled and sorrow showed upon her face. “Welcome,” he said. “How is Shams al-Nahar?” She replied, “I shall tell you how she is. But how is Ali ibn Bakkar?” Abu al-Hasan told her everything that had happened to him. She grieved, sighed, and marveled at his condition, then said, “My mistress’s plight is stranger still. When you had gone, I returned with my heart trembling for you, scarcely believing you had escaped safely. I found my mistress lying in the pavilion, neither speaking nor answering anyone. The Commander of the Faithful sat at her head, unable to find anyone who could tell him what had happened, for he did not know what ailed her. She remained unconscious until midnight. When she revived, the Commander of the Faithful asked her, ‘What has befallen you, Shams al-Nahar? What has come over you tonight?’ Hearing the caliph’s words, she kissed his feet and said, ‘Commander of the Faithful, may God make me your ransom! A disordered humor overcame me and set my body aflame. The violence of it made me faint, and I do not know what happened to me.’ The caliph asked, ‘What did you take during the day?’ She answered, ‘I broke my fast with something I had never eaten before.’ Then she made a show of strength, called for something to drink, and drank it. She asked the Commander of the Faithful to return to his pleasures, and he resumed his seat in the pavilion. When I went to her, she asked me about you both. I told her what I had done for you and recited the verses Ali ibn Bakkar had spoken. She fell silent. Then the Commander of the Faithful, seated once more, ordered a girl to sing, and she sang these two verses:

Since you left, no sweetness has remained in life for me. Would that I knew how you have fared since I departed. My tears ought rightly to be blood, if you are weeping tears because I am far away. When she heard these verses, she fell unconscious.” But morning overtook Shahrazad, and she fell silent, leaving her tale untold.

When it was the hundred and fifty-seventh night

She said: It has reached me, O fortunate King, that the maid said to Abu al-Hasan, “When my mistress heard those verses, she fell unconscious. I took her hand and sprinkled rosewater on her face until she revived. Then I said, ‘My lady, do not expose yourself and all those within your palace. By the life of your beloved, be patient!’ She replied, ‘Can anything worse than death befall me? I seek it, for in it lies my rest.’ While we were speaking, a girl sang these words of the poet:

They said, ‘Perhaps patience will bring relief.’ I answered, ‘Where is patience after parting from him? The covenant between us was sealed by the severing of every cord of patience when I embraced him.’ When the girl had finished, my mistress fell unconscious again. The caliph saw her and hurried to her. He ordered the wine removed and every girl to return to her chamber, and remained with her for the rest of the night. In the morning he summoned physicians and ordered them to treat her, knowing nothing of her love and passion. I stayed beside her until I thought her condition had improved. That is what kept me from coming to you. When she ordered me to go and learn how Ali ibn Bakkar fared and return to her, I left a number of her closest attendants with her.” Abu al-Hasan marveled at the maid’s account and said, “By God, I have told you everything that has happened to him. Return to your mistress, give her my greetings, urge her to be patient, and tell her to keep the secret. Tell her that I understand her situation: it is a grave matter and must be handled carefully.” The maid thanked him, bade him farewell, and returned to her mistress.

Such was her part in the affair. As for Abu al-Hasan, he remained in his shop until the end of the day. When evening came, he rose, locked the shop, and went to Ali ibn Bakkar’s house. He knocked, and one of the servants came out and admitted him. At the sight of him, Ali ibn Bakkar smiled and rejoiced, saying, “Abu al-Hasan, I have missed you, since you stayed away from me today. For the rest of my life, my soul will be bound to you.” Abu al-Hasan replied, “Do not speak so. If I could ransom you, I would give my own life for yours. Shams al-Nahar’s maid came today and told me that nothing had kept her away but the caliph’s remaining with her mistress. She also told me what had happened to her mistress.” He related everything he had heard from the maid. Ali ibn Bakkar was deeply grieved and wept. Then he turned to Abu al-Hasan and said, “By God, help me in this affliction and tell me what can be done. I beg you, in your kindness, to spend tonight here, so that I may find comfort in your company.” Abu al-Hasan agreed to his request and consented to stay. They spent the night talking, until Ali ibn Bakkar wept, let his tears flow, and recited these verses:

With the sword of her glance she broke the pledge that shields the helpless; with the spear of her stature she pierced the armor of my endurance. Beneath the musk-dark beauty spot she unveiled the camphor of a dawn that cleft the night of ambergris. In alarm she parted carnelian lips to show pearls whose separate gems lay in a pool of sugar. She sighed in anguish, and her hand left marks upon her breast; then I beheld what I had never seen: coral pens had written in ambergris five lines upon a crystal page. O bearer of the broad-bladed sword, when she looks your way, beware the stroke of her languishing eyelid! And you, master of the lance, beware the thrust when she charges you with the dusky spear of her slender form. When Ali ibn Bakkar had finished his verses, he gave a terrible cry and fell unconscious. Abu al-Hasan thought his soul had left his body. He remained in his swoon until daybreak, then revived and spoke with Abu al-Hasan, who stayed beside him until well into the morning. Then he left him, went to his shop, and opened it. Presently the maid came and stood before him. When he saw her, she greeted him with a gesture, and he returned her greeting. She conveyed her mistress’s salutations and asked, “How is Ali ibn Bakkar?” He replied, “Girl, do not ask about his condition or the torments of his love. He neither sleeps by night nor rests by day. Sleeplessness has wasted him, distress has overcome him, and his condition would grieve anyone who loved him.” She said, “My mistress sends her greetings to you and to him. She has written him a letter, and her own condition is worse than his. She gave me the letter and said, ‘Do not return without its answer, and do as I have commanded you.’ Here is the letter with me. Will you come with me to Ali ibn Bakkar so that we may get his reply?” Abu al-Hasan answered, “I hear and obey.” He shut his shop, took the maid with him, and led her by a different route from the one he had come by. They walked on until they reached Ali ibn Bakkar’s house. There he left her at the door and went inside. And morning overtook Shahrazad, and she fell silent, leaving her tale untold.

When it was the hundred and fifty-eighth night,

She said: It has reached me, O fortunate King, that Abu al-Hasan took the maid to Ali ibn Bakkar’s house, left her at the door, and went inside. When Ali ibn Bakkar saw him, he was delighted. Abu al-Hasan said, “I have come because a certain man has sent you his maid with a note conveying his greetings. In it he explains that some unavoidable business has kept him from visiting you. The maid is standing at the door. Will you allow her to enter?” Ali said, “Bring her in.” Abu al-Hasan signaled to him that she was Shams al-Nahar’s maid, and he understood. When he saw her, he stirred with joy and asked her by signs, “How is our master? May God restore him to health and keep him well.” She replied, “He is well.” Then she took out the letter and handed it to him. He took it, kissed it, read it, and passed it to Abu al-Hasan, who found these verses written in it:

This messenger will tell you how I fare; let the report suffice instead of seeing me. You have left behind a lover sick with love for you, whose eyes are ever wakeful. I struggle to endure affliction, for no creature can ward off the blows of fate. Be comforted: you have never been absent from my heart, not even on the day you vanished from my sight. Look at your own wasted body and what has befallen it, and judge my state by its traces. And now: I have written to you without fingers and spoken to you without a tongue. To sum up my condition, I have eyes that sleeplessness never leaves and a heart from which thoughts never depart. It is as though I had never known health or happiness, never beheld a lovely sight or enjoyed a pleasant life; as though I had been created out of yearning, the pain of passion, and sorrow. Sickness follows sickness, love’s torment redoubles, and longing ever increases, until I have become as the poet said:

My heart is cramped, my thoughts range far; my eyes are sleepless and my body worn. Patience has departed, separation stays; my mind is troubled and my heart is stolen. Know that complaint does not extinguish the fire of suffering, yet it affords some solace to one whom longing has made ill and separation has destroyed. I comfort myself by speaking the very word “reunion.” How beautifully the poet said:

If love knew neither anger nor contentment, where would be the sweetness of messages and letters? Abu al-Hasan said: When I read it, its words stirred my anguish, and its meaning struck me to the heart. Then I gave it to the maid. When she had taken it, Ali ibn Bakkar said to her, “Convey my greetings to your mistress. Tell her of my passion and my torment, and how love has mingled with my flesh and bones. Tell her that I need someone to rescue me from the sea of destruction and deliver me from this bewilderment.” Then he wept, and the maid wept at his tears. She bade him farewell and left him, and Abu al-Hasan went out with her. Then he took leave of her and returned to his shop. And morning overtook Shahrazad, and she fell silent, leaving her tale untold.

When it was the hundred and fifty-ninth night,

She said: It has reached me, O fortunate King, that Abu al-Hasan bade the maid farewell and returned to his shop. As he sat there, his heart grew heavy, his breast tightened, and he was at a loss what to do. He spent the rest of the day deep in thought. The next day he went to Ali ibn Bakkar and sat with him until the other visitors had left. He asked how he was, and Ali began to complain of love’s torment, his passion and distraction, reciting these verses:

Before me, others have complained of love’s pain, and separation has struck terror into living and dead. But anything like what my breast contains I have neither heard of nor seen. And these verses of another poet:

Through loving you I have suffered what even her mad Qays never suffered for Lubna. Yet I have not followed the wild beasts of the desert as Qays did: madness has many forms. Abu al-Hasan said to him, “I have never seen or heard of anyone like you in love. How can you be so consumed by passion and so feeble, when the beloved to whom you are devoted returns your love? What if you loved someone who opposed and deceived you? Then your secret would surely be exposed.” Abu al-Hasan said: Ali ibn Bakkar found comfort in my words and thanked me for them. Now I had a friend who knew of my affairs and those of Ali ibn Bakkar, and knew the close understanding between us. No one else knew what passed between us. He used to come and ask me about Ali ibn Bakkar, and before long he asked me about the maid. I told him, “Her mistress invited him to visit her, and what passed between them could not have been surpassed. That is the latest development in their affairs. But I have devised a plan for myself that I wish to put before you.” His friend asked, “What is it?” Abu al-Hasan said, “You must know that I am a man well known for my many dealings with both men and women. I fear that their affair may be discovered and lead to my death, the seizure of my property, and the dishonoring of my household. I have therefore decided to gather my money, make my preparations, and leave for Basra. I shall remain there and wait to see what becomes of them, without anyone knowing my true purpose. Love has taken firm possession of them, and letters are passing between them. Their go-between is a maid who keeps their secrets, but I fear she may grow weary and reveal them to someone. Then their story will spread and bring ruin upon them and destruction upon me, and I shall have no excuse to offer anyone.” His friend said, “You have told me of a grave matter, the like of which any sensible, experienced man would fear. May God protect you from the evil you dread and deliver you from the consequences you fear. Your decision is the right one.”

Abu al-Hasan returned home and began settling his affairs and preparing to travel to Basra. Before three days had passed, he had finished his business and set out. Three days later his friend came to visit him and did not find him. He asked the neighbors about him, and they said, “He left for Basra three days ago. He has dealings with merchants there and has gone to collect his debts. He will be back soon.” The man was bewildered and did not know where to turn. “Would that I had never parted from Abu al-Hasan!” he said. Then he devised a way to gain access to Ali ibn Bakkar. He went to his house and said to one of his servants, “Ask your master’s permission for me to come in and pay my respects.” The servant went inside, told his master, then returned with permission for him to enter. He went in and found Ali reclining upon a cushion. He greeted him, and Ali returned his greeting and welcomed him. The man apologized for not having visited him for so long, then said, “My lord, Abu al-Hasan and I are friends. I used to entrust him with my secrets and scarcely leave his company for an hour. I was away for three days on some business with a party of friends, and when I returned I found his shop shut. I asked the neighbors about him, and they told me that he had gone to Basra. I know of no friend more devoted to him than you, so I beg you, by God, to tell me what you know of him.” When Ali ibn Bakkar heard this, his color changed and he grew agitated. “Until today,” he said, “I had heard nothing of his departure. If it is as you say, then trouble has indeed befallen me.” Tears streamed from his eyes, and he recited these two verses:

I used to weep for joys gone by when all my loved ones were together, not dispersed. Today my fate has parted me from them, and now I weep for those I love. Then Ali ibn Bakkar lowered his head and sat pondering. After a while he raised it and said to a servant, “Go to Abu al-Hasan’s house and ask whether he is at home or has gone away. If they say he has left, ask where he has gone.” The servant departed and was away for a while, then returned to his master and said, “When I asked about Abu al-Hasan, his people told me that he had gone to Basra. But I found a maid standing at the door. When she saw me, she recognized me, though I did not recognize her. She asked, ‘Are you a servant of Ali ibn Bakkar?’ I said, ‘Yes.’ She said, ‘I have a message for him from the person dearest to his heart.’ So she came with me and is standing at the door.” Ali ibn Bakkar said, “Bring her in.” The servant went out and brought her in. The man sitting with Ibn Bakkar looked at the maid and saw that she was graceful and charming. She approached Ali ibn Bakkar and greeted him. And morning overtook Shahrazad, and she fell silent, leaving her tale untold.

When it was the hundred and sixtieth night,

She said: It has reached me, O fortunate King, that when the maid entered Ali ibn Bakkar’s room, she approached him, greeted him, and spoke to him in private. In the course of their conversation he repeatedly swore that he had said no such thing. Then she took her leave and departed. Now Abu al-Hasan’s friend was a jeweler. When the maid had gone, he found an opportunity to speak and said to Ali ibn Bakkar, “There can be no doubt that the caliph’s household has some claim upon you, or that you have dealings with it.” Ali asked, “Who told you that?” He replied, “I know this maid. She belongs to Shams al-Nahar. Some time ago she came to me with a note saying that her mistress wished for a necklace of jewels, and I sent her a costly one.” When Ali ibn Bakkar heard this, he became so agitated that the jeweler feared for his life. Then he recovered himself and said, “My brother, I beg you by God, how do you know her?” The jeweler replied, “Do not press me with questions.” Ali ibn Bakkar said, “I shall not leave you in peace until you tell me the truth.” The jeweler said, “I will tell you in such a way that you need harbor no suspicion of me or feel any distress at my words. I shall hide no secret from you, but explain the whole truth—on condition that you tell me the truth about your own situation and the cause of your illness.” So Ali told him his story, then said, “By God, my brother, the only reason I have concealed my affairs from others is my fear that people will expose one another’s secrets.” The jeweler said to Ali ibn Bakkar, “I sought your company only because of my great affection and concern for you, and my pity for your heart in the pain of separation. I hoped to keep you company in place of my friend Abu al-Hasan while he is away. So take heart and be comforted.” Ali ibn Bakkar thanked him and recited these two verses:

Were I to say that I could bear his absence patiently, my tears and bitter sobbing would give me the lie. How can I hide the tears that stream across my cheek because my beloved is far away? Then Ali ibn Bakkar fell silent for a time. At last he said to the jeweler, “Do you know what the maid whispered to me?” He replied, “No, by God, my lord.” Ali said, “She claimed that I advised Abu al-Hasan to go to Basra, and that I devised this stratagem to put an end to our correspondence and our meetings. I swore to her that it was not so, but she would not believe me. She went back to her mistress still harboring these suspicions, for she had been listening to Abu al-Hasan.” The jeweler said, “My brother, I gathered as much from the maid’s manner. But, God Most High willing, I shall help you attain your desire.” Ali ibn Bakkar asked, “How will you deal with her, when she shies away like a wild creature of the desert?” He replied, “I shall do my utmost to help you and devise a way to reach her without exposing any secret or causing any harm.” Then he asked leave to depart. Ali ibn Bakkar said, “My brother, be sure to keep the secret.” He looked at him and wept, and the jeweler bade him farewell and left. And morning overtook Shahrazad, and she fell silent, leaving her tale untold.

When it was the hundred and sixty-first night,

She said: It has reached me, O fortunate King, that the jeweler took his leave and departed, not knowing how he could help Ali ibn Bakkar. He walked on, pondering the matter, until he saw a letter lying in the road. He picked it up, looked at the address, and read: “From the lesser lover to the greater beloved.” He opened it and found these two verses written inside:

The messenger came, tempting me with hopes of union with you, though I thought it most likely he was mistaken. I felt no joy; my sorrow only deepened, knowing that my messenger had failed to understand. And now: Know, my lord, that I do not understand why the correspondence between us has ceased. If you have turned cold, I shall meet your coldness with fidelity; if your affection has departed, I shall preserve mine despite the distance. With you I am as the poet said:

Be proud: I shall endure. Be overbearing: I shall be patient. Exalt yourself: I shall be humble. Turn away: I shall approach. Speak: I shall listen. Command: I shall obey. Just as he finished reading, the maid appeared, looking to right and left. She saw the letter in his hand and said, “My lord, that letter fell from me.” He gave her no answer but walked on. The maid followed him until he reached his house and went inside, with her behind him. She said, “My lord, give me back the letter. I dropped it.” He turned to her and said, “Girl, do not be afraid or distressed. Only tell me the truth, for I can keep a secret. I call upon you to swear that you will conceal nothing from me about your mistress. Perhaps God will help me to fulfill her wishes and make difficult matters easy through my hands.” When the maid heard his words, she said, “My lord, no secret is lost when you guard it, and no undertaking fails when you strive to accomplish it. Know that my heart has warmed to you. I shall tell you the truth, but give me the letter.” Then she told him the whole story and said, “God is witness to what I say.” He replied, “You have spoken truly, for I already know the beginnings of this affair.” Then he told her about Ali ibn Bakkar and how he had won his confidence, recounting everything from beginning to end. She was delighted to hear it. They agreed that she should take the letter to Ali ibn Bakkar and return to the jeweler to tell him everything that happened. He gave her the letter, and she took it and sealed it as before, saying, “My mistress Shams al-Nahar gave it to me sealed. When he has read it and given me his answer, I shall bring it to you.” Then she bade him farewell and went to Ali ibn Bakkar, whom she found waiting. She gave him the letter, and he read it, then wrote a reply and handed it to her. She took it and returned to the jeweler, as they had agreed. He broke the seal and read it, finding these words:

The messenger with whom our letters lay concealed has lost them and departed in anger. Choose me a trustworthy messenger from among you, one who esteems truth and has no liking for lies. And now: No coldness has come from me. I have abandoned no fidelity, broken no pledge, severed no affection. Grief has never left me, and since our parting I have met with nothing but ruin. I knew nothing whatever of what you mentioned, and I desire only what you desire. By Him who knows all secrets and whispered counsels, I seek nothing but to meet the one I love. My way is to conceal my passion, though sickness should consume me. Such is my condition. Peace be upon you.

When the jeweler had read this letter and understood its contents, he wept bitterly. The maid said to him, “Do not leave this place until I return. He has accused me of something, and he has his excuses. I mean to contrive some way to bring you together with my mistress Shams al-Nahar, whom I left prostrate, awaiting the answer.” Then the maid went to her mistress, while the jeweler spent the night in a troubled state of mind. At daybreak he performed the dawn prayer and sat waiting for her. Presently she came in, looking happy. He asked, “What news, girl?” She replied, “I went from you to my mistress and gave her the letter Ali ibn Bakkar had written. When she read it and understood its meaning, she was bewildered. I said to her, ‘My lady, do not fear that Abu al-Hasan’s absence will spoil matters between you. I have found someone to take his place, a better man, of greater worth, and well able to keep secrets.’ I told her about you and Abu al-Hasan, how you had come to know him and Ali ibn Bakkar, how I had dropped that letter and you had found it, and what you and I had agreed.” The jeweler was utterly astonished. Then she said to him, “She wishes to hear you speak, so that she may confirm with you the pledges made between you and him. Make up your mind to come with me to her now.”

When the jeweler heard the maid’s words, he saw that going into her presence was a grave matter and a tremendous danger, not something one could venture upon or rush into. He said to the maid, “My sister, I am a man of humble birth, not a man like Abu al-Hasan. He was of high standing and widely known, and he visited the caliph’s palace because they needed his merchandise. As for me, when Abu al-Hasan spoke to me I trembled before him. If your mistress wishes to speak with me, it should be somewhere other than the caliph’s palace, far from the abode of the Commander of the Faithful, for my heart cannot consent to what you ask.” He refused to go with her, while she continued to assure him of his safety, saying, “Do not be anxious or afraid.” As they spoke, his legs began to shake and his hands to tremble. The maid said, “If it is too difficult for you to go to the caliph’s palace, and you cannot come with me, I shall bring her here to you. Do not stir from this place until I return with her.”

The maid went away and soon returned to the jeweler. “Make sure,” she said, “that you have no maid or servant with you.” He replied, “I have only an elderly black woman who attends to me.” The maid rose and shut the doors between the jeweler and his servant, and sent his serving boys out of the house. Then she went out and returned with another woman following her. As the woman entered the jeweler’s house, the fragrance of her perfume filled it. When he saw her, he rose, set a cushion for her, and sat before her. She remained silent for a while until she had rested, then unveiled her face, and the jeweler thought the sun had risen in his home. She asked her maid, “Is this the man you told me about?” The maid replied, “Yes.” She turned to the jeweler and asked, “How are you?” He replied, “Well,” and offered prayers for her. She said, “You have made us come to you and reveal a secret that lay hidden.” Then she asked about his family and household, and he told her all his circumstances. “I have another house besides this one,” he said, “which I have set aside for gatherings with friends and companions. Here I have only what I mentioned to your maid.” Then she asked how he had learned of the affair, and he answered her from beginning to end. She sighed over Abu al-Hasan’s departure and said, “My good man, know that people’s souls find harmony in their desires, and people depend upon one another. No deed is accomplished without a word, no purpose attained without effort, and no ease comes without hardship…” And morning overtook Shahrazad, and she fell silent, leaving her tale untold.

When it was the hundred and sixty-second night,

She said: It has reached me, O fortunate King, that Shams al-Nahar said to the jeweler, “No ease comes without hardship, and success comes only through people of honor. I have now revealed our affair to you, and it lies in your hands either to expose us or to protect us. No greater honor could be asked of you than the honor you already possess. You know that this maid of mine keeps my secret. For that reason she holds a very high place with me, and I have chosen her to attend to my most important concerns. Let no one be dearer to you than she is, and take her into your confidence. Be at ease: you are safe from anything you fear on our account. No door will close upon you but she will open it. She will come to you from me with news concerning Ali ibn Bakkar, and you shall be the intermediary carrying messages between him and me.” Then Shams al-Nahar rose, scarcely able to stand, and began to walk. The jeweler went before her until she reached the door of the house, then returned and sat in his place. Her beauty had dazzled him, her words had bewildered his mind, and her grace and refinement had left him astonished. He continued reflecting upon her qualities until his spirit grew calm. Then he called for food, ate enough to sustain himself, changed his clothes, and left his house for that of Ali ibn Bakkar. The servants met him and walked before him until they brought him to their master, whom he found lying upon his bed. When Ali saw the jeweler, he said, “You have been slow to come, and have added grief to my grief.” Then he dismissed his servants, ordered the doors shut, and said, “By God, I have not closed my eyes since you left me. Yesterday the maid came with a sealed letter from her mistress Shams al-Nahar.” Ibn Bakkar told him everything that had happened with her, then said, “I am bewildered and my patience is nearly gone. Abu al-Hasan used to comfort me, for he knew the maid.” When the jeweler heard Ibn Bakkar’s words, he laughed. Ibn Bakkar said, “How can you laugh at what I say, when I welcomed you as a good omen and took you for a support in adversity?” Then he wept and recited these verses:

He laughed at my tears when he saw me; had he suffered what I suffered, it would have made him weep. None pities the afflicted for what he endures save one as sorrowful, whose own trial has been long. My passion, my yearning, my groaning, my thoughts, my distraction are all for a beloved whose dwelling is the heart’s innermost recess. The beloved has settled in my heart, never leaving it for an instant, yet is so hard to meet. I have no other friend I would accept instead, nor have I ever chosen any other love. When the jeweler heard these words and understood the verses, he wept at Ali’s tears. Then he told him what had happened with the maid since they had parted. Ibn Bakkar listened intently. With every word he heard, his face changed from pale to flushed; one moment strength returned to his body, and the next it ebbed away. When the jeweler had finished, Ibn Bakkar wept and said, “My brother, I am doomed in any case. Would that my end were near! I beg you, of your kindness, to deal gently with me in all my affairs until God wills what He wills. I shall oppose nothing you say.” The jeweler replied, “Nothing will quench this fire in you but a meeting with the one you adore, though not in that dangerous place. It must be at my house, in a dwelling adjoining my own, where the maid and her mistress came to see me. It is the place she has chosen for herself. The purpose is for you both to meet there and tell each other what you have suffered.” Ali ibn Bakkar said, “Do as you wish. Whatever you think best is right.” The jeweler said: I stayed with him that night, keeping him company until morning.

When it was the hundred and sixty-third night,

She said: It has reached me, O fortunate King, that the jeweler said: I stayed that night with Ali ibn Bakkar, keeping him company until morning. Then I performed the dawn prayer, left him, and went home. I had scarcely settled down when the maid came and greeted me. I returned her greeting and told her what had passed between Ali ibn Bakkar and me. She said, “You must know that the caliph has left our quarters, and there is no one in our reception room. It would be safer and better for us there.” I said, “What you say is true, but it is not like this house of mine, which is more secluded and more suitable for us.” The maid replied, “The decision is yours. I shall go to my mistress, tell her what you have said, and put your proposal before her.”

Then the maid went to her mistress and laid the matter before her. She returned to my house and said, “My mistress agrees to your proposal.” She took a purse of dinars from the bosom of her dress and said, “My mistress sends you her greetings and says, ‘Take this and buy whatever we shall need.’” I swore that I would spend none of it, so the maid took it back to her mistress and told her, “He would not accept the money, but handed it back to me.” After the maid had gone, I went to my second house and moved into it all the furnishings and carpets that the occasion required. I brought over silver and porcelain vessels and prepared all the food and drink we should need. When the maid came and saw what I had done, she was pleased and told me to bring Ali ibn Bakkar. I said, “No one but you can bring him.” So she went to him and brought him back in the finest attire, his beauty radiant. When he arrived, I received him, welcomed him, and seated him upon a couch befitting him. I set fragrant flowers before him in porcelain and crystal vessels and talked with him for about an hour. Then the maid went away and remained absent until after the sunset prayer. She returned with Shams al-Nahar and only two young attendants. When Shams al-Nahar saw Ali ibn Bakkar and he saw her, they both fell unconscious to the ground. They remained so for an hour. When they revived, they turned to one another, then sat exchanging tender words. After that they applied some perfume and began to thank me for what I had done for them. I asked, “Would you care for some food?” They said, “Yes.” I brought them food, and they ate until they were satisfied, then washed their hands. I led them into another room and brought them wine. They drank until they were tipsy and leaned against one another. Then Shams al-Nahar said to me, “My lord, complete your kindness and bring us a lute and some other musical instruments, so that we may enjoy this hour to the full.” I replied, “Upon my head and eyes.” Then I rose and brought a lute. She took it, tuned it, laid it in her lap, and played beautifully. Then she sang these two verses:

I have lain awake so long it seems I am in love with sleeplessness; I have wasted away until sickness seems my very nature. My tears have streamed upon my cheek and scorched it. Would that I knew: shall there be reunion after parting? Then she began singing poetry in such varied melodies and with such graceful gestures that she bewildered the mind. The whole gathering seemed ready to take flight with rapture at the marvels of her song. The jeweler continued: When we were settled at our ease and the cups were passing among us, the maiden enchanted us with her melodies and sang these verses:

My beloved promised union and fulfilled the promise on a night I shall count as many nights. O night that time bestowed upon us while slanderers and reproachers were unaware! My beloved spent the night holding me in his right arm, and in my joy I clasped him with my left. I embraced him and sipped the wine of his mouth, delighting in both the honey and its giver. Then the jeweler left them in that house and withdrew to the house where he lived, spending the night there. In the morning he performed his prescribed prayer, drank his coffee, and sat considering when to go to them in his second house. As he sat there, his neighbor came in, terrified, and said, “My brother, I am deeply distressed by what happened to you last night in your other house.” I asked, “My brother, what happened? Tell me what befell my house.” He said, “The thieves who came to our neighbors yesterday, killed a certain man, and took his money saw you moving your possessions into your second house. They came there last night, took everything you had, and killed your guests.” The jeweler said: My neighbor and I rose and went to the house. We found it empty, with nothing left inside. I was at a loss and said to myself, “As for the furnishings, I do not care about their loss. Even though I borrowed some things from my friends and they too are gone, it is no great matter. They will accept my excuse, since my property has been stolen and my house plundered. But as for Ali ibn Bakkar and the favorite of the Commander of the Faithful, I fear their affair will become known and cost me my life.” Then the jeweler turned to his neighbor and said, “You are my brother and my neighbor, and you will shield me from disgrace. What do you advise me to do?” The man said, “My advice is to wait. Those who entered your house and took your goods have killed some of the finest people in the caliph’s household, as well as several members of the police prefect’s household. The officers of the state are searching every road for them. Perhaps they will find them, and you will gain what you want without any effort on your part.” When the jeweler heard this, he returned to the house where he lived… And morning overtook Shahrazad, and she fell silent, leaving her tale untold.

When it was the hundred and sixty-fourth night,

She said: It has reached me, O fortunate King, that when the jeweler heard these words, he returned to the house where he lived and said to himself, “What has befallen me is precisely what Abu al-Hasan feared when he went away to Basra. Now I have fallen into it.” News of the plundering of his house spread among the people, and they came to him from every quarter. Some rejoiced in his misfortune, while others shared his distress. He lamented to them, neither eating nor drinking. As he sat there full of regret, one of his servants came in and said, “There is someone at the door asking for you. I do not know him.” The jeweler went out, greeted him, and found that he was a stranger. The man said, “I have something to discuss with you in private.” He brought him into the house and asked, “What have you to tell me?” The man said, “Come with me to your second house.” The jeweler asked, “Do you know my second house?” He replied, “I know your whole story, and I also have something through which God may relieve your distress.” I said to myself, “I shall go with him wherever he wishes.” So I set out with him until we reached the house. When the man saw it, he said, “There is no doorkeeper here, and we cannot sit in it. Come with me somewhere else.”

The man kept leading me from place to place, and I followed him until night fell, asking him nothing. Still he walked on, and I walked beside him, until we came out into open country. “Follow me,” he said, and began to hurry, with me hastening after him, until we reached the river. He took me aboard a boat, and the boatman rowed us across to the farther bank. The man stepped ashore, and I followed. Then he took me by the hand and led me down a lane I had never entered in my life, nor did I know in what quarter it lay. At last he stopped at the door of a house, opened it, and went inside, taking me with him. He secured the door with an iron lock, then led me through the passage until we came upon ten men who looked as alike as one man, for they were brothers. My guide greeted them, and they returned his greeting. They bade me sit down, and I did so, utterly weakened by exhaustion. They brought rosewater and sprinkled it on my face, gave me something to drink, and set food before me. I said to myself, “If there were anything harmful in the food, they would not be eating with me.” When we had washed our hands, each of us returned to his place, and they asked, “Do you know us?” “No,” I answered. “I have never known where you live, nor do I even know the man who brought me here.” “Tell us your story,” they said, “and lie about nothing.” I replied, “You must know that my plight is strange and my story extraordinary. Do you know anything of it?” “Yes,” they said. “We are the men who took your belongings last night, and carried off your friend and the woman who was singing.” “May God spread His protection over you!” I said. “Where are my friend and the woman who sang?” They pointed in one direction and said, “They are here. But by God, brother, none of us has discovered their secret. Since bringing them here, we have neither sat with them nor questioned them, for we saw such dignity and majesty in them that we dared not kill them. Tell us the truth about them, and you and they shall be safe.” The jeweller continued: When I heard these words, I nearly died of fear and dismay. “Know,” I told them, “that if honour were lost to the world, it would be found only among you; and if I had a secret I feared to reveal, nowhere would it be safer than in your hearts.” I went on at length in this vein, but at last I saw that speaking openly would serve me better than concealment, so I told them everything that had happened to me, from beginning to end.

When they had heard my story, they said, “Is this young man, then, Ali ibn Bakkar, and is this woman Shams al-Nahar?” “Yes,” I replied. They went to the two of them and begged their pardon. Then they said to me, “Some of what we took from your house is gone, but here is what remains.” They returned most of my belongings and undertook to restore them to their places in my house and to recover the rest. Yet they were divided among themselves: half were on my side and half against me. Then we left that house.

Such was what happened to me. As for Ali ibn Bakkar and Shams al-Nahar, fear had brought them to the brink of death. I went up to them, greeted them, and asked, “What can have happened to the maid and the two young attendants? Where did they go?” “We know nothing of them,” they answered. We walked on until we reached the place where the boat lay, and they helped us aboard. It was the very boat in which we had crossed the day before. The boatman rowed us to the farther bank, where they put us ashore. Hardly had we seated ourselves on the bank when horsemen appeared and surrounded us on every side. The men with us sprang away as swiftly as hawks; the boat returned for them, and they leapt aboard and made off along the river. Ali ibn Bakkar, Shams al-Nahar, and I remained on the shore, unable either to stir or to rest. “Where are you from?” the horsemen demanded. We were at a loss for an answer. The jeweller continued: I said to them, “We do not know the men you saw with us. We only met them here. We are musicians, and they wanted to carry us off to sing for them. We escaped them only by guile and gentle words. They released us just now, and you saw for yourselves how they behaved.”

The horsemen looked at Shams al-Nahar and Ali ibn Bakkar, then said to me, “You are not telling the truth. If you are, tell us who you are, where you come from, where your homes are, and in which quarter you live.” The jeweller continued: I did not know what to say. Then Shams al-Nahar rose, went up to the captain of the horsemen, and spoke to him privately. He dismounted, seated her on his horse, and took the bridle to lead her. He had the same done for Ali ibn Bakkar and for me. The captain led us to a place beside the river and called out in a foreign tongue. A party of men came towards him from the open country. He put us aboard one boat and his companions aboard another, and they rowed us towards the caliph’s palace, while we suffered the agonies of death from fear. We went on until we reached the landing from which we could make our way home. There we went ashore and walked, accompanied by some of the horsemen, who reassured us until we entered the house. Once we were inside, they bade us farewell and went their way. We reached our rooms scarcely able to move, no longer knowing morning from evening. We remained in that state until dawn, and towards the end of the day Ali ibn Bakkar fell unconscious. The men and women wept over him as he lay motionless. Some of his family came to me and said, “Tell us what happened to our son, and what has brought him to this condition.” “Listen to me, good people,” I began. But morning overtook Shahrazad, and she ceased her permitted tale.

When it was the hundred and sixty-fifth night

She said: It has reached me, O fortunate King, that the jeweller said to them, “Listen to me, good people, and do me no harm. Be patient until he revives, and he will tell you his story himself.” Then I spoke sternly to them, warning them of the disgrace that might fall upon us all. While we were thus engaged, Ali ibn Bakkar stirred upon his bed. His family rejoiced, and the other people withdrew, but his family would not let me leave him. They sprinkled rosewater on his face, and when he recovered and breathed the fresh air, they began asking how he felt. He tried to answer, though his tongue was slow to obey him. Then he signed to them to let me go home. They released me, and I went out, scarcely believing I had escaped. Two men supported me all the way to my house. When my family saw my condition, they struck their faces, but I motioned them to be silent, and they fell quiet. The two men went their way, and I threw myself upon my bed for the rest of the night, not coming to myself until well into the morning. I found my family gathered round me, saying, “What calamity has befallen you and struck you with its evil?” “Bring me something to drink,” I said. They brought it, and I drank my fill. Then I told them, “What is done is done. Go about your affairs.” I made my excuses to my friends and asked whether any of the belongings taken from my house had been returned. “Some have come back,” they said. “Someone came and left them at the door, but we did not see him.”

I took what comfort I could and remained where I was for two days, unable to rise. Then, feeling stronger, I went to the bathhouse, though my heart was troubled over Ibn Bakkar and Shams al-Nahar. All that time I had heard no news of them. I could not bring myself to visit Ali ibn Bakkar’s house, yet fear for my own safety gave me no peace at home. I repented before Almighty God of what I had done and thanked Him for my deliverance. After a while, it occurred to me to go to that quarter and return within the hour. Just as I was setting out, I noticed a woman standing nearby. I looked closely and saw that she was Shams al-Nahar’s maid. Recognizing her, I hurried away, but she followed me, and terror seized me. Every time I looked back and saw her, I trembled. “Stop,” she called, “so that I may tell you something.” I paid no heed, but kept walking until I came to a mosque in a deserted spot. “Go into this mosque,” she said, “so that I may speak one word to you. You have nothing to fear.” She adjured me until I entered, and she followed. I prayed two rak‘ahs, then approached her with a groan and asked, “What is the matter?” She asked how I was, and I told her what had happened to me and what had befallen Ali ibn Bakkar. Then I asked, “And what news have you?” She replied, “When I saw the men break down the door of your house and enter, I was afraid of them. I feared they had come from the caliph and would seize my mistress and me, and that we should perish on the spot. So the two young attendants and I fled over the rooftops. We threw ourselves down from a high place and took refuge with some people, then made our escape until we reached the caliph’s palace in a dreadful state. We concealed what had happened, and spent the hours as though turning on live coals until night fell. Then I opened the river gate, summoned the boatman who had taken us out that night, and said to him, ‘We have no news of my mistress. Take me out in the boat so that I may search for her on the river; perhaps I shall learn something of her.’ He took me aboard and rowed away. I remained on the river until midnight, when I saw a boat approaching the gate. One man was rowing, another sat with him, and a woman lay between them. The boatman rowed on until he reached the bank. When the woman stepped ashore, I looked closely and saw that she was Shams al-Nahar. I went down to meet her, beside myself with joy at seeing her after I had given up all hope.” But morning overtook Shahrazad, and she ceased her permitted tale.

When it was the hundred and sixty-sixth night

She said: It has reached me, O fortunate King, that the maid said to the jeweller, “I went down to meet her, beside myself with joy after I had given up all hope. When I stood before her, she ordered me to give the man who had brought her a thousand dinars. Then the two attendants and I carried her inside and laid her upon her bed. She passed the night in great distress. When morning came, she forbade the maids and servants to enter or approach her throughout that day. On the following day she recovered somewhat, but I found her looking as though she had come out of a tomb. I sprinkled rosewater on her face, changed her clothes, and washed her hands and feet. I coaxed her until she ate a little food and drank something, though she had no appetite for either. When she had breathed some fresh air and her strength began to return, I said, ‘Mistress, have pity on yourself. You have suffered enough; you have been at the point of death.’ ‘By God, my good maid,’ she replied, ‘death would be easier for me than what I have endured. Indeed, I thought I was certain to be killed. When the thieves took us from the jeweller’s house, they questioned me, asking, “Who are you, and what is your calling?” I told them, “I am a singing girl,” and they believed me. Then they questioned Ali ibn Bakkar, asking, “Who are you, and what is your calling?” “I am an ordinary man,” he answered. They took us along with them until we reached their dwelling, and in our terror we hurried to keep pace. Once they had settled us in their rooms, they examined me and looked at my clothes, necklaces, and jewels. Their suspicions were aroused, and they said, “These necklaces cannot belong to a singing girl.” Then they told me, “Speak truthfully and tell us what your story is.” I gave them no answer, saying to myself, “Now they will kill me for the jewels and fine clothes I am wearing.” So I uttered not a word.

“‘Then they turned to Ali ibn Bakkar and said, “Where do you come from? You do not look like an ordinary man.” He too remained silent, and we concealed our story and wept. But God softened the thieves’ hearts towards us, and they asked, “Who owns the house where you were staying?” “The jeweller, so-and-so,” we answered. One of them said, “I know him very well, and I know that he is staying in his other house. I undertake to bring him here at once.” They agreed to put me in one room and Ali ibn Bakkar in another, telling us, “Rest, and do not fear that your secret will be revealed. You are safe.” Their companion went to fetch the jeweller and brought him back. He told them our story, and we were reunited with him. Then one of the men brought a boat. They put us aboard, took us to the farther bank, left us on the shore, and went away. Horsemen of the night watch came upon us and asked, “Who are you?” I spoke to their captain and told him, “I am Shams al-Nahar, the caliph’s favourite. I became drunk and went out to visit some women of the viziers’ households whom I know. Thieves came upon me, carried me off, and brought me here. When they saw you, they fled. I am well able to reward you.” When the captain heard my words, he recognized me, dismounted, and seated me on his horse. He had the same done for Ali ibn Bakkar and the jeweller. Now my heart burns like fire for the two of them, especially the jeweller, Ibn Bakkar’s friend. Go to him, greet him for me, and ask him for news of Ali ibn Bakkar.’ I reproached her for what had happened and warned her, saying, ‘Mistress, have a care for your own safety.’ But she shouted at me, angered by my words. So I left her and came to find you, but you were not there. I was afraid to go to Ibn Bakkar, and so I stood waiting for you, to ask you about him and learn how he fared. Now I beg you to accept some money from me. Perhaps you borrowed furnishings from your friends and lost them, and will need to repay them for what went missing from your house.” The jeweller continued: “Gladly,” I replied. Then I walked with her until we came near my dwelling, where she said, “Wait here until I return.” But morning overtook Shahrazad, and she ceased her permitted tale.

When it was the hundred and sixty-seventh night

She said: It has reached me, O fortunate King, that the maid said to the jeweller, “Wait here until I return.” She went away and came back carrying the money. She gave it to him and asked, “My lord, where may we meet you?” The jeweller continued: I told her, “I shall go home at once. For your sake I will bear the trouble and devise some means of bringing you to him, though reaching him at present is difficult.” She bade me farewell and went away. I carried the money home and counted it: there were five thousand dinars. I gave some to my family and repaid everyone whose property had been in my keeping. Then I took my servants to the house from which the furnishings had been stolen, and brought carpenters and builders to restore it to its former state. I installed my maid there and put what had happened behind me. Then I went out and made my way to Ali ibn Bakkar’s house. When I arrived, his servants came towards me, and one of them said, “My master’s servants have been searching for you night and day. He has promised freedom to whoever brings you to him, so they have been looking everywhere, but could discover no trace of you. My master has regained some strength, though at times he is conscious and at others he sinks into a stupor. Whenever he comes to himself, he speaks of you and says, ‘You must bring him to me, if only for a moment; then he may go his way.’” The jeweller continued: I went with the servant to his master and found him unable to speak. I sat down by his head, and he opened his eyes. When he saw me, he wept and said, “Welcome, welcome!” I supported him, helped him sit up, and held him to my breast. “Brother,” he said, “since first I took to my bed, I have not sat up until this moment. Praise be to God for the sight of you!” I continued to support him until I had him on his feet and had helped him walk a few steps. I changed his clothes, and he drank something. When I saw signs of recovery in him, I told him what had passed with the maid, taking care that no one overheard. Then I said, “Take heart. I know what ails you.” He smiled, and I added, “You shall hear only what will gladden and heal you.”

Ali ibn Bakkar ordered food to be brought, and they brought it. He signed to his servants to withdraw, then said to me, “Brother, have you seen what has befallen us?” He begged my pardon and asked how I had fared during that time. I told him everything that had happened to me, from beginning to end. He marvelled, then told the servants, “Bring me such-and-such.” They brought him costly furnishings and other ornaments of gold and silver, worth more than all I had lost. He gave them all to me, and I sent them home, remaining with him that night. When dawn broke, he said, “Know that everything has an end, and the end of love is death or union. I am nearer death. Would that I had died before all this happened! Had God not been gracious to us, we should have been disgraced. I do not know what can deliver me from my plight, and were it not for my fear of God, I would hasten my own destruction. Brother, I am like a bird in a cage, and my soul is dying of anguish. Yet it has its appointed hour and its destined term.” Then his tears flowed, and he recited these two verses:

“Others before me have mourned the pain of parting; separation has struck terror into the living and the dead. But sorrow such as my ribs enclose I have never heard of, nor have I ever seen.” When he had finished his verses, the jeweller said to him, “My lord, I mean to go home. Perhaps the maid will return to me with news.” “Very well,” said Ali ibn Bakkar, “but come back quickly and tell me.” The jeweller continued: I bade him farewell and returned home. Scarcely had I sat down when the maid appeared, weeping and sobbing. “Why are you crying?” I asked. “My lord,” she replied, “the calamity we feared has fallen upon us. When I left you yesterday, I found my mistress angry with one of the two young attendants who were with us that night. She ordered her to be beaten. The girl, afraid of her mistress, ran away, but one of the men stationed at the gate met her, seized her, and tried to take her back. She hinted at what had happened, so he spoke gently to her and drew her out until she told him everything. The news reached the caliph, who ordered my mistress Shams al-Nahar and all her possessions to be brought into his palace, and set twenty eunuchs to attend her. I have not been able to see her since, nor have I told her the reason. I suspected this was the cause, and feared for myself. I was bewildered and did not know how to contrive her escape or my own. Of all those about her, none was more faithful in keeping her secret than I.” But morning overtook Shahrazad, and she ceased her permitted tale.

When it was the hundred and sixty-eighth night

She said: It has reached me, O fortunate King, that the maid said to the jeweller, “Of all those about my mistress, none was more faithful in keeping her secret than I. Go quickly, my lord, to Ali ibn Bakkar and tell him, so that he may be prepared. If the truth comes out, we must devise some means of saving ourselves.” The jeweller continued: Her words filled me with grief, and the world grew dark before my eyes. As she was about to leave, I asked, “What do you advise?” “Go at once to Ali ibn Bakkar,” she replied, “if he is your friend and you wish him to escape. Your task is to carry this news to him without delay; mine is to keep watch for whatever news I can discover.” Then she bade me farewell and left. As soon as she was gone, I rose and followed her out, making my way to Ali ibn Bakkar. I found him speaking to himself of reunion, soothing his heart with impossible hopes. When he saw me return so soon, he said, “You have come back at once, I see.” “Put an end to these lingering hopes,” I told him, “and leave off what occupies your thoughts. Something has happened that may cost you both your life and your fortune.” At these words his expression changed, and in alarm he said to the jeweller, “Brother, tell me what has happened.” The jeweller told him, “My lord, such-and-such has come to pass. If you remain in this house until the end of the day, you are surely lost.” Ali ibn Bakkar was stunned, and his soul almost left his body. Then he said, “To God we belong, and to Him we return,” and asked, “What shall I do, brother? What do you advise?” The jeweller continued: I said, “Take as much of your wealth as you can carry, and those servants whom you trust, and let us leave for another country before this day is over.” “I hear and obey,” he answered.

He sprang up, bewildered, now walking, now stumbling. He gathered what he could, made his excuses to his family, and gave them his instructions. Then he took three laden camels and mounted his beast. I made the same preparations, and we slipped away in secret. We travelled for the rest of the day and through the night. Towards the end of the night we unloaded our baggage, hobbled our camels, and lay down to sleep. Weariness overcame us, and we lost all awareness of our surroundings. Suddenly thieves were upon us. They surrounded us, took everything we had, and killed the servants when they tried to defend us. Then they left us there in a wretched state and went away with our wealth. We rose and walked until morning, when we reached a town. We entered it naked and made for the mosque, where we sat in a corner for the rest of the day. When night came, we slept there, having neither eaten nor drunk. At dawn we performed the morning prayer and sat down. Presently a man entered, greeted us, and prayed two rak‘ahs. Then he turned to us and asked, “Are you strangers here?” “Yes,” we replied. “Robbers waylaid us and stripped us. We have come into this town knowing no one with whom we may take shelter.” “Will you come home with me?” the man asked. The jeweller continued: I said to Ali ibn Bakkar, “Let us go with him and escape two dangers. First, we fear that someone who knows us may enter this mosque and expose us; second, we are strangers with nowhere to shelter.” “Do as you think best,” said Ali ibn Bakkar. The man urged us a second time, saying, “Poor men, heed me and come to my house.” “We hear and obey,” I replied.

The man took off some of his own clothes and clothed us, speaking kindly to us. We rose and followed him to his house. He knocked, and a young servant came and opened the door. The master entered, and we followed. He ordered a bundle of robes and turban cloths to be brought, clothed us in two suits, and gave us two turban cloths. We wound them about our heads and sat down. A maid came with a table and set it before us. We ate a little, and the table was removed. We remained with him until nightfall, when Ali ibn Bakkar sighed and said to the jeweller, “Brother, I know that I am surely dying, and I wish to leave you one charge. When you see that I am dead, go to my mother and tell her to come here to mourn me and attend the washing of my body. Bid her bear our parting patiently.” Then he fell unconscious. When he revived, he heard a maid singing and reciting verses in the distance. He listened closely to her voice, now overcome as though intoxicated, now coming to himself, now weeping in grief and sorrow over all that had befallen him. He heard the maid pour out her melodies and sing these verses:

“Separation hastened to divide us after intimacy, neighbourly closeness, and accord. The changes of the nights have torn us apart; would that I knew when we shall meet again! How bitter is parting after union; would that it never brought lovers harm! The pang of death lasts but an hour and ends, but parting from the beloved abides in the heart. If only we could find a way to reach separation, we would make separation taste the bitterness of parting.” When Ibn Bakkar heard the maid, he gave one great gasp, and his soul departed from his body. The jeweller continued: When I saw that he was dead, I entrusted him to the master of the house, saying, “I am going to Baghdad to inform his mother and his kinsfolk, so that they may come and prepare him for burial.” I set out for Baghdad, went home, and changed my clothes. Then I went to Ali ibn Bakkar’s house. When his servants saw me, they came towards me and asked after him. I asked them to obtain his mother’s permission for me to enter, and she granted it. I went in, greeted her, and said, “When God decrees a thing, there is no escaping His decree. No soul may die save by God’s leave, at an appointed time.” From these words, Ali ibn Bakkar’s mother understood that her son had died. She wept bitterly, then said, “I implore you by God, tell me: is my son dead?” My grief was too great for me to answer. Seeing my condition, she choked with tears and fell senseless to the ground. When she recovered, she asked, “What has happened to my son?” “May God greatly reward your patience in his loss,” I replied. Then I told her his story from beginning to end. “Did he leave you any charge?” she asked. “Yes,” I said, and told her what he had asked of me. “Make haste to prepare him for burial.” When Ali ibn Bakkar’s mother heard my words, she fainted again. On recovering, she resolved to do as I had urged. Then I left for home, thinking as I walked of the beauty of his youth. While I was thus absorbed, a woman suddenly took hold of my hand. But morning overtook Shahrazad, and she ceased her permitted tale.

When it was the hundred and sixty-ninth night

She said: It has reached me, O fortunate King, that the jeweller said: A woman suddenly took hold of my hand. I looked at her and saw that she was the maid who used to come from Shams al-Nahar, now bowed with sorrow. When we recognized one another, we both wept, and continued on until we reached that house. “Have you heard the news of Ali ibn Bakkar?” I asked her. “No, by God,” she replied. I told her what had happened to him, then asked, “And how fares your mistress?” She said, “The Commander of the Faithful would believe nothing said against her, so greatly did he love her. He put the best construction on everything she had done, and told her, ‘Shams al-Nahar, you are dear to me, and I shall stand by you despite your enemies.’ Then he ordered a gilded suite and a beautiful chamber to be furnished for her, and she enjoyed the highest favour with him. One day, as was his custom, he sat down to drink. His favourites attended him, and he seated each in her appointed place, with Shams al-Nahar beside him. Her patience was exhausted, and her suffering had grown worse. He ordered one of the singing girls to sing. She took up the lute, played upon it, and sang:

“A voice called me to love, and I answered, while my tears traced longing’s script upon my cheek. It is as though the tears of my eyes tell our story, revealing what I hide and hiding what I reveal. How can I seek secrecy or conceal my love, when my boundless passion for you lays bare my heart? Death has grown sweet to me since I lost my loved ones; would that I knew what sweetness they find in being far from me.” When Shams al-Nahar heard the girl’s song, she could no longer sit upright and fell senseless. The caliph flung aside his cup, drew her to him, and cried out, while the maids raised a clamour. The Commander of the Faithful turned her over and found her dead. He grieved at her death and ordered all the musical instruments and zithers present to be broken. He carried her into a chamber and remained beside her body for the rest of the night. When day broke, he made arrangements for her funeral, ordering that she be washed, shrouded, and buried. He mourned her deeply, but made no inquiry into her condition or what had caused it.” Then the maid said to the jeweller, “I beg you by God to let me know when Ali ibn Bakkar’s funeral procession sets out, and to take me to his burial.” “You may find me wherever you wish,” he replied, “but who can reach you in the place where you live?” She told him, “When Shams al-Nahar died, the Commander of the Faithful freed all her maids that very day. I was among them, and we are staying beside her tomb in such-and-such a place.” I rose and went with her to the cemetery, where I visited Shams al-Nahar’s grave. Then I went my way and waited for Ali ibn Bakkar’s funeral procession to arrive. When it came, the people of Baghdad went out to meet it, and I went with them. I found the maid among the women, grieving more bitterly than any of them. Never had I seen a greater funeral in Baghdad. We moved on through an immense throng until we reached his grave and buried him. From then on I never ceased to visit his grave and that of Shams al-Nahar. Such was their story, yet it is no more wonderful than the story of King Shahriman. But morning overtook Shahrazad, and she ceased her permitted tale.