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The Book of the Thousand Nights and a Night, Volume 8 by Richard F. Burton

R >> Richard F. Burton >> The Book of the Thousand Nights and a Night, Volume 8

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"This is she I will never forget till I die * Nor draw near but
to those who to her draw nigh.
A being for semblance like Moon at full * Praise her Maker, her
Modeller glorify!
Tho' be sore my sin seeking love-liesse * On esperance-day ne'er
repent can I;
A couplet reciting which none can know * Save the youth who in
couplets and rhymes shall cry,
'None weeteth love but who bears its load * Nor passion, save
pleasures and pains he aby.'"

So Nur al-Din lay with the damsel through the night in solace and
delight,--And Shahrazad perceived the dawn of day and ceased
saying her permitted say.

When it was the Eight Hundred and Seventy-fifth Night,

She said, It hath reached me, O auspicious King, that Nur al-Din
lay with that damsel through the night in solace and delight, the
twain garbed in the closely buttoned garments of embrace, safe
and secure against the misways of nights and days, and they
passed the dark hours after the goodliest fashion, fearing
naught, in their joys love-fraught, from excess of talk and
prate. As saith of them the right excellent poet,[FN#483]

"Go, visit her thou lovest, and regard not
The words detractors utter; envious churls
Can never favour love. Oh! sure the merciful
Ne'er make a thing more fair to look upon,
Than two fond lovers in each other's arms,
Speaking their passion in a mute embrace.
When heart has turned to heart, the fools would part them
Strike idly on cold steel. So when thou'st found
One purely, wholly thine, accept her true heart,
And live for her alone. Oh! thou that blamest
The love-struck for their love, give o'er thy talk
How canst thou minister to a mind diseased?"

When the morning morrowed in sheen and shone, Nur al-Din awoke
from deep sleep and found that she had brought water:[FN#484] so
they made the Ghusl-ablution, he and she, and he performed that
which behoved him of prayer to his Lord, after which she set
before him meat and drink, and he ate and drank. Then the damsel
put her hand under her pillow and pulling out the girdle which
she had knitted during the night, gave it to Nur al-Din, who
asked, "Whence cometh this girdle?"[FN#485] Answered she, "O my
lord, 'tis the silk thou boughtest yesterday for twenty dirhams.
Rise now and go to the Persian bazar and give it to the broker,
to cry for sale, and sell it not for less than twenty gold pieces
in ready money." Quoth Nur al-Din, "O Princess of fair ones how
can a thing, that cost twenty dirhams and will sell for as many
dinars, be made in a single night?"; and quoth she, "O my lord,
thou knowest not the value of this thing; but go to the market
therewith and give it to the broker, and when he shall cry it,
its worth will be made manifest to thee." Herewith he carried the
zone to the market and gave it to the broker, bidding him cry it,
whilst he himself sat down on a masonry bench before a shop. The
broker fared forth and returning after a while said to him, "O my
lord, rise take the price of thy zone, for it hath fetched twenty
dinars money down." When Nur al-Din heard this, he marvelled with
exceeding marvel and shook with delight. Then he rose, between
belief and misbelief, to take the money and when he had received
it, he went forthright and spent it all on silk of various
colours and returning home, gave his purchase to the damsel,
saying, "Make this all into girdles and teach me likewise how to
make them, that I may work with thee; for never in the length of
my life saw I a fairer craft than this craft nor a more abounding
in gain and profit. By Allah, 'tis better than the trade of a
merchant a thousand times!" She laughed at his language and said,
"O my lord, go to thy friend the druggist and borrow other thirty
dirhams of him, and to-morrow repay him from the price of the
girdle the thirty together with the fifty already loaned to
thee." So he rose and repaired to the druggist and said to him,
"O Uncle, lend me other thirty dirhams, and to-morrow, Almighty
Allah willing, I will repay thee the whole fourscore." The old
man weighed him out thirty dirhams, wherewith he went to the
market and buying meat and bread, dried fruits, and flowers as
before, carried them home to the damsel whose name was
Miriam,[FN#486] the Girdle-girl. She rose forthright and making
ready rich meats, set them before her lord Nur al-Din; after
which she brought the wine-service and they drank and plied each
other with drink. When the wine began to play with their wits,
his pleasant address and inner grace pleased her, and she recited
these two couplets,

"Said I to Slim-waist who the wine engraced * Brought in
musk-scented bowl and a superfine,
'Was it prest from thy cheek?' He replied 'Nay, nay! * When did
man from Roses e'er press the Wine?'"

And the damsel ceased not to carouse with her lord and ply him
with cup and bowl and require him to fill for her and give her to
drink of that which sweeteneth the spirits, and whenever he put
forth hand to her, she drew back from him, out of coquetry. The
wine added to her beauty and loveliness, and Nur al-Din recited
these two couplets,

"Slim-waist craved wine from her companeer; * Cried (in meeting
of friends when he feared for his fere,)
'An thou pass not the wine thou shalt pass the night, * A-banisht
my bed!' And he felt sore fear."

They ceased not drinking till drunkenness overpowered Nur al-Din
and he slept; whereupon she rose forthright and fell to work upon
a zone, as was her wont. When she had wrought it to end, she
wrapped it in paper and doffing her clothes, lay down by his side
and enjoyed dalliance and delight till morn appeared.--And
Shahrazad perceived the dawn of day and ceased to say her
permitted say.

When it was the Eight Hundred and Seventy-sixth Night,

She continued, It hath reached me, O auspicious King, that Miriam
the Girdle-girl, having finished her zone and wrapped it in paper
doffed her dress and lay down by the side of her lord; and then
happened to them what happened of dalliance and delight; and he
did his devoir like a man. On the morrow, she gave him the girdle
and said to him, "Carry this to the market and sell it for twenty
dinars, even as thou soldest its fellow yesterday." So he went to
the bazar and sold the girdle for twenty dinars, after which he
repaired to the druggist and paid him back the eighty dirhams,
thanking him for the bounties and calling down blessings upon
him. He asked, "O my son, hast thou sold the damsel?"; and Nur
al-Din answered, "Wouldst thou have me sell the soul out of my
body?" and he told him all that had passed, from commencement to
conclusion, whereat the druggist joyed with joy galore, than
which could be no more and said to him, "By Allah, O my son, thou
gladdenest me! Inshallah, mayst thou ever be in prosperity!
Indeed I wish thee well by reason of my affection for thy ather
and the continuance of my friendship with him." Then Nur al-Din
left the Shaykh and straightway going to the market, bought meat
and fruit and wine and all that he needed according to his custom
and returned therewith to Miriam. They abode thus a whole year in
eating and drinking and mirth and merriment and love and good
comradeship, and every night she made a zone and he sold it on
the morrow for twenty dinars, wherewith he bought their needs and
gave the rest to her, to keep against a time of necessity. After
the twelvemonth she said to him one day, "O my lord, whenas thou
sellest the girdle to-morrow, buy for me with its price silk of
six colours, because I am minded to make thee a kerchief to wear
on thy shoulders, such as never son of merchant, no, nor King's
son, ever rejoiced in its like." So next day he fared forth to
the bazar and after selling the zone brought her the dyed silks
she sought and Miriam the Girdle-girl wrought at the kerchief a
whole week, for, every night, when she had made an end of the
zone, she would work awhile at the kerchief till it was finished.
Then she gave it to Nur al-Din, who put it on his shoulders and
went out to walk in the market-place, whilst all the merchants
and folk and notables of the town crowded about him, to gaze on
his beauty and that of the kerchief which was of the most
beautiful. Now it chanced that one night, after this, he awoke
from sleep and found Miriam weeping passing sore and reciting
these couplets,

"Nears my parting fro' my love, nigher draws the Severance-day *
Ah well-away for parting! and again ah well-away!
And in tway is torn my heart and O pine I'm doomed to bear * For
the nights that erst witnessed our pleasurable play!
No help for it but Envier the twain of us espy * With evil eye
and win to us his lamentable way.
For naught to us is sorer than the jealousy of men * And the
backbiter's eyne that with calumny affray."

He said, "O my lady Miriam,[FN#487] what aileth thee to weep?";
and she replied, "I weep for the anguish of parting for my heart
presageth me thereof." Quoth he, "O lady of fair ones, and who
shall interpose between us, seeing that I love thee above all
creatures and tender thee the most?"; and quoth she, "And I love
thee twice as well as thou me; but fair opinion of fortune still
garreth folk fall into affliction, and right well saith the
poet,[FN#488]

'Think'st thou thyself all prosperous, in days which prosp'rous
be,
Nor fearest thou impending ill, which comes by Heaven's decree?
We see the orbs of heav'n above, how numberless they are,
But sun and moon alone eclips'd, and ne'er a lesser star!
And many a tree on earth we see, some bare, some leafy green,
Of them, not one is hurt with stone save that has fruitful been!
See'st not th' refluent ocean, bear carrion on its tide,
While pearls beneath its wavy flow, fixed in the deep, abide?'"

Presently she added, "O my lord Nur al-Din, an thou desire to
nonsuit separation, be on thy guard against a swart-visaged
oldster, blind of the right eye and lame of the left leg; for he
it is who will be the cause of our severance. I saw him enter the
city and I opine that he is come hither in quest of me." Replied
Nur al-Din, "O lady of fair ones, if my eyes light on him, I will
slay him and make an example of him." Rejoined she, "O my lord,
slay him not; but talk not nor trade with him, neither buy nor
sell with him nor sit nor walk with him nor speak one word to
him, no, not even the answer prescribed by law,[FN#489] and I
pray Allah to preserve us from his craft and his mischief." Next
morning, Nur al-Din took the zone and carried it to the market,
where he sat down on a shop-bench and talked with the sons of the
merchants, till the drowsiness preceding slumber overcame him and
he lay down on the bench and fell asleep. Presently, behold, up
came the Frank whom the damsel had described to him, in company
with seven others, and seeing Nur al-Din lying asleep on the
bench, with his head wrapped in the kerchief which Miriam had
made for him and the edge thereof in his grasp, sat down by him
and hent the end of the kerchief in hand and examined it, turning
it over for some time. Nur al-Din sensed that there was something
and awoke; then, seeing the very man of whom Miriam had warned
him sitting by his side, cried out at him with a great cry which
startled him. Quoth the Frank, "What aileth thee to cry out thus
at us? Have we taken from thee aught?"; and quoth Nur al-Din, "By
Allah, O accursed, haddest thou taken aught from me, I would
carry thee before the Chief of Police!" Then said the Frank, "O
Moslem, I conjure thee by thy faith and by that wherein thou
believest, inform me whence thou haddest this kerchief;" and Nur
al-Din replied, "Tis the handiwork of my lady mother,"--And
Shahrazad perceived the dawn of day and ceased saying her
permitted say.

When it was the Eight Hundred and Seventy-seventh Night,

She pursued, It hath reached me, O auspicious King, that when the
Frank asked Nur al-Din anent the maker of the kerchief, he
answered, saying, "In very sooth this kerchief is the handiwork
of my mother, who made it for me with her own hand." Quoth the
Frank "Wilt thou sell it to me and take ready money for it?," and
quoth Nur al-Din, "By Allah, I will not sell it to thee or to any
else, for she made none other than it." "Sell it to me and I will
give thee to its price this very moment five hundred dinars,
money down; and let her who made it make thee another and a
finer." "I will not sell it at all, for there is not the like of
it in this city." "O my lord, wilt thou sell it for six hundred
ducats of fine gold?" And the Frank went on to add to his offer
hundred by hundred, till he bid nine hundred dinars; but Nur
al-Din said, "Allah will open to me otherwise than by my vending
it. I will never sell it, not for two thousand dinars nor more
than that; no, never." The Frank ceased not to tempt him with
money, till he bid him a thousand dinars, and the merchants
present said, "We sell thee the kerchief at that price:[FN#490]
pay down the money." Quoth Nur al-Din, "I will not sell it, I
swear by Allah!"[FN#491] But one of the merchants said to him,
"Know thou, O my son, that the value of this kerchief is an
hundred dinars at most and that to an eager purchaser, and if
this Frank pay thee down a thousand for it, thy profit will be
nine hundred dinars, and what gain canst thou desire greater than
this gain? Wherefore 'tis my rede that thou sell him this
kerchief at that price and bid her who wrought it make thee other
finer than it: so shalt thou profit nine hundred dinars by this
accursed Frank, the enemy of Allah and of The Faith." Nur al-Din
was abashed at the merchants and sold the kerchief to the Frank,
who, in their presence, paid him down the thousand dinars, with
which he would have returned to his handmaid to congratulate her
on what had passed; but the stranger said, "Harkye, O company of
merchants, stop my lord Nur al-Din, for you and he are my guests
this night. I have a jar of old Greek wine and a fat lamb, fresh
fruit, flowers and confections; wherefore do ye all cheer me with
your company to-night and not one of you tarry behind." So the
merchants said, "O my lord Nur al-Din, we desire that thou be
with us on the like of this night, so we may talk together, we
and thou, and we pray thee, of thy favour and bounty, to bear us
company, so we and thou, may be the guests of this Frank, for he
is a liberal man." And they conjured him by the oath of
divorce[FN#492] and hindered him by main force from going home.
Then they rose forthright and shutting up their shops, took Nur
al-Din and fared with the Frank, who brought them to a goodly and
spacious saloon, wherein were two daises. Here he made them sit
and set before them a scarlet tray-cloth of goodly workmanship
and unique handiwork, wroughten in gold with figures of breaker
and broken, lover and beloved, asker and asked, whereon he ranged
precious vessels of porcelain and crystal, full of the costliest
confections, fruits and flowers, and brought them a flagon of old
Greek wine. Then he bade slaughter a fat lamb and kindling fire,
proceeded to roast of its flesh and feed the merchants therewith
and give them draughts of that wine, winking at them the while to
ply Nur al-Din with drink. Accordingly they ceased not plying him
with wine till he became drunken and took leave of his wits; so
when the Frank saw that he was drowned in liquor, he said to him,
"O my lord Nur al-Din, thou gladdenest us with thy company
to-night: welcome, and again welcome to thee." Then he engaged
him awhile in talk, till he could draw near to him, when he said,
with dissembling speech, "O my lord, Nur al-Din, wilt thou sell
me thy slave-girl, whom thou boughtest in presence of these
merchants a year ago for a thousand dinars? I will give thee at
this moment five thousand gold pieces for her and thou wilt thus
make four thousand ducats profit." Nur al-Din refused, but the
Frank ceased not to ply him with meat and drink and lure him with
lucre, still adding to his offers, till he bid him ten thousand
dinars for her; whereupon Nur al-Din, in his drunkenness, said
before the merchants, "I sell her to thee for ten thousand
dinars: hand over the money." At this the Frank rejoiced with joy
exceeding and took the merchants to witness the sale. They passed
the night in eating and drinking, mirth and merriment, till the
morning, when the Frank cried out to his pages, saying, "Bring me
the money." So they brought it to him and he counted out ten
thousand dinars to Nur al-Din, saying, "O my lord, take the price
of thy slave-girl, whom thou soldest to me last night, in the
presence of these Moslem merchants." Replied Nur al-Din, "O
accursed, I sold thee nothing and thou liest anent me, for I have
no slave-girls." Quoth the Frank, "In very sooth thou didst sell
her to me and these merchants were witnesses to the bargain."
Thereupon all said, "Yes, indeed! thou soldest him thy slave-girl
before us for ten thousand dinars, O Nur al-Din and we will all
bear witness against thee of the sale. Come, take the money and
deliver him the girl, and Allah will give thee a better than she
in her stead. Doth it irk thee, O Nur al-Din, that thou boughtest
the girl for a thousand dinars and hast enjoyed for a year and a
half her beauty and loveliness and taken thy fill of her converse
and her favours? Furthermore thou hast gained some ten thousand
golden dinars by the sale of the zones which she made thee every
day and thou soldest for twenty sequins, and after all this thou
hast sold her again at a profit of nine thousand dinars over and
above her original price. And withal thou deniest the sale and
belittlest and makest difficulties about the profit! What gain is
greater than this gain and what profit wouldst thou have
profitabler than this profit? An thou love her thou hast had thy
fill of her all this time: so take the money and buy thee another
handsomer than she; at a dowry of less than half this price, and
the rest of the money will remain in thy hand as capital." And
the merchants ceased not to ply him with persuasion and special
arguments till he took the ten thousand dinars, the price of the
damsel, and the Frank straightway fetched Kazis and witnesses,
who drew up the contract of sale by Nur al-Din of the handmaid
hight Miriam the Girdle-girl. Such was his case; but as regards
the damsel's, she sat awaiting her lord from morning till sundown
and from sundown till the noon of night; and when he returned
not, she was troubled and wept with sore weeping. The old
druggist heard her sobbing and sent his wife, who went in to her
and finding her in tears, said to her, "O my lady, what aileth
her and finding her in tears, said to her, "O my lady, what
aileth thee to weep?" Said she, "O my mother, I have sat waiting
the return of my lord, Nur al-Din all day; but he cometh not, and
I fear lest some one have played a trick on him, to make him sell
me, and he have fallen into the snare and sold me."--And
Shahrazad perceived the dawn of day and ceased to say her
permitted say.

When it was the Eight Hundred and Seventy-eighth Night,

She resumed, It hath reached me, O auspicious King, that Miriam
the Girdle-girl said to the druggist's wife, "I am fearful lest
some one have been playing a trick on my lord to make him sell
me, and he have fallen into the snare and sold me." Said the
other, "O my lady Miriam, were they to give thy lord this hall
full of gold as thy price, yet would he not sell thee, for what I
know of his love to thee. But, O my lady, belike there be a
company come from his parents at Cairo and he hath made them an
entertainment in the lodging where they alighted, being ashamed
to bring them hither, for that the place is not spacious enough
for them or because their condition is less than that he should
bring them to his own house; or belike he preferred to conceal
thine affair from them, so passed the night with them; and
Inshallah! to-morrow he will come to thee safe and sound. So
burden not thy soul with cark and care, O my lady, for of a
certainty this is the cause of his absence from thee last night
and I will abide with thee this coming night and comfort thee,
until thy lord return to thee." So the druggist's wife abode with
her and cheered her with talk throughout the dark hours and, when
it was morning, Miriam saw her lord enter the street followed by
the Frank and amiddlemost a company of merchants, at which sight
her side-muscles quivered and her colour changed and she fell
a-shaking, as ship shaketh in mid-ocean for the violence of the
gale. When the druggist's wife saw this, she said to her, "O my
lady Miriam what aileth thee that I see thy case changed and thy
face grown pale and show disfeatured?" Replied she, "By Allah, O
my lady, my heart forebodeth me of parting and severance of
union!" And she bemoaned herself with the saddest sighs, reciting
these couplets,[FN#493]

"Incline not to parting, I pray; * For bitter its savour is aye.
E'en the sun at his setting turns pale * To think he must part
from the day;
And so, at his rising, for joy * Of reunion, he's radiant and
gay."

Then Miriam wept passing sore wherethan naught could be more,
making sure of separation, and cried to the druggist's wife, "O
my mother, said I not to thee that my lord Nur al-Din had been
tricked into selling me? I doubt not but he hath sold me this
night to yonder Frank, albeit I bade him beware of him; but
deliberation availeth not against destiny. So the truth of my
words is made manifest to thee." Whilst they were talking,
behold, in came Nur al-Din, and the damsel looked at him and saw
that his colour was changed and that he trembled and there
appeared on his face signs of grief and repentance: so she said
to him, "O my lord Nur al-Din, meseemeth thou hast sold me."
Whereupon he wept with sore weeping and groaned and lamented and
recited these couplets,[FN#494]

"When e'er the Lord 'gainst any man,
Would fulminate some harsh decree,
And he be wise, and skilled to hear,
And used to see;
He stops his ears, and blinds his heart,
And from his brain ill judgment tears,
And makes it bald as 'twere a scalp,
Reft of its hairs;[FN#495]
Until the time when the whole man
Be pierced by this divine command;
Then He restores him intellect
To understand."

Then Nur al-Din began to excuse himself to his handmaid, saying,
"By Allah, O my lady Miriam, verily runneth the Reed with whatso
Allah hath decreed. The folk put a cheat on me to make me sell
thee, and I fell into the snare and sold thee. Indeed, I have
sorely failed of my duty to thee; but haply He who decreed our
disunion will vouchsafe us reunion." Quoth she, "I warned thee
against this, for this it was I dreaded." Then she strained him
to her bosom and kissed him between the eyes, reciting these
couplets,

"Now, by your love! your love I'll ne'er forget, * Though lost my
life for stress of pine and fret:
I weep and wail through livelong day and night * As moans the
dove on sandhill-tree beset.
O fairest friends, your absence spoils my life; * Nor find I
meeting-place as erst we met."

At this juncture, behold, the Frank came in to them and went up
to Miriam, to kiss her hands; but she dealt him a buffet with her
palm on the cheek, saying, "Avaunt, O accursed! Thou hast
followed after me without surcease, till thou hast cozened my
lord into selling me! But O accursed, all shall yet be well,
Inshallah!" The Frank laughed at her speech and wondered at her
deed and excused himself to her, saying, "O my lady Mirian, what
is my offence? Thy lord Nur al-Din here sold thee of his full
consent and of his own free will. Had he loved thee, by the right
of the Messiah, he had not transgressed against thee! And had he
not fulfilled his desire of thee, he had not sold thee." Quoth
one of the poets,

'Whom I irk let him fly fro' me fast and faster * If I name his
name I am no directer.
Nor the wide wide world is to me so narrow * That I act expecter
to this rejecter.'"[FN#496]

Now this handmaid was the daughter of the King of France, the
which is a wide an spacious city,[FN#497] abounding in
manufactures and rarities and trees and flowers and other
growths, and resembleth the city of Constantinople; and for her
going forth of her father's city there was a wondrous cause and
thereby hangeth a marvellous tale which we will set out in due
order, to divert and delight the hearer.[FN#498]--And Shahrazad
perceived the dawn of day and ceased saying her permitted say.

When it was the Eight Hundred and Seventy-ninth Night,

She said, It hath reached me, O auspicious King, that the cause
of Miriam the Girdle-girl leaving her father and mother was a
wondrous and thereby hangeth a marvellous tale. She was reared
with her father and mother in honour and indulgence and learnt
rhetoric and penmanship and arithmetic and cavalarice and all
manner crafts, such as broidery and sewing and weaving and
girdle-making and silk-cord making and damascening gold on silver
and silver on gold, brief all the arts both of men and women,
till she became the union-pearl of her time and the unique gem of
her age and day. Moreover, Allah (to whom belong Might and
Majesty!) had endowed her with such beauty and loveliness and
elegance and perfection of grace that she excelled therein all
the folk of her time, and the Kings of the isles sought her in
marriage of her sire, but he refused to give her to wife to any
of her suitors, for that he loved her with passing love and could
not bear to be parted from her a single hour. Moreover, he had no
other daughter than herself, albeit he had many sons, but she was
dearer to him than all of them. It fortuned one year that she
fell sick of an exceeding sickness and came nigh upon death,
werefore she made a vow that, if she recovered from her malady,
she would make the pilgrimage to a certain monastery, situate in
such an island, which was high in repute among the Franks, who
used to make vows to it and look for a blessing therefrom. When
Miriam recovered from her sickness, she wished to accomplish her
vow anent the monastery and her sire despatched her to the
convent in a little ship, with sundry daughters of the
city-notables to wait upon her and patrician Knights to protect
them all. As they drew near the island, there came out upon them
a ship of the ships of the Moslems, champions of The Faith,
warring in Allah's way, who boarded the vessel and making prize
of all therein, knights and maidens, gifts and monies, sold their
booty in the city of Kayrawan.[FN#499] Miriam herself fell into
the hands of a Persian merchant, who was born impotent[FN#500]
and for whom no woman had ever discovered her nakedness; so he
set her to serve him. Presently, he fell ill and sickened well
nigh unto death, and the sickness abode with him two months,
during which she tended him after the goodliest fashion, till
Allah made him whole of his malady, when he recalled her
tenderness and loving-kindness to him and the persistent zeal
with which she had nurst him and being minded to requite her the
good offices she had done him, said to her, "Ask a boon of me?"
She said, "O my lord, I ask of thee that thou sell me not but to
the man of my choice." He answered, "So be it. I guarantee thee.
By Allah, O Miriam, I will not sell thee but to him of whom thou
shalt approve, and I put thy sale in thine own hand." And she
rejoiced herein with joy exceeding. Now the Persian had expounded
to her Al-Islam and she became a Moslemah and learnt of him the
rules of worship. Furthermore during that period the Perisan had
taught her the tenets of The Faith and the observances incumbent
upon her: he had made her learn the Koran by heart and master
somewhat of the theological sciences and the traditions of the
Prophet; after which, he brought her to Alexandria-city and sold
her to Nur al-Din, as we have before set out. Meanwhile, when her
father, the King of France, heard what had befallen his daughter
and her company, he saw Doomsday break and sent after her ships
full of knights and champions, horsemen and footsmen; but they
fell not in any trace of her whom they sought in the
Islands[FN#501] of the Moslems; so all returned to him, crying
out and saying, "Well-away!" and "Ruin!" and "Well worth the
day!" The King grieved for her with exceeding grief and sent
after her that one-eyed lameter, blind of the left,[FN#502] for
that he was his chief Wazir, a stubborn tyrant and a froward
devil,[FN#503] full of craft and guile, bidding him make search
for her in all the lands of the Moslems and buy her, though with
a ship-load of gold. So the accursed sought her, in all the
islands of the Arabs and all the cities of the Moslems, but found
no sign of her till he came to Alexandria-city where he made
quest for her and presently discovered that she was with Nur
al-Din Ali the Cairene, being directed to the trace of her by the
kerchief aforesaid, for that none could have wrought it in such
goodly guise but she. Then he bribed the merchants to help him in
getting her from Nur al-Din and beguiled her lord into selling
her, as hath been already related. When he had her in his
possession, she ceased not to weep and wail: so he said to her,
"O my lady Miriam, put away from thee this mourning and grieving
and return with me to the city of thy sire, the seat of thy
kingship and the place of thy power and thy home, so thou mayst
be among thy servants and attendants and be quit of this
abasement and this strangerhood. Enough hath betided me of
travail, of travel and of disbursing monies on thine account, for
thy father bade me buy thee back, though with a shipload of gold;
and now I have spent nigh a year and a half in seeking thee." And
he fell to kissing her hands and feet and humbling himself to
her; but the more he kissed and grovelled she only redoubled in
wrath against him, and said to him, "O accursed, may Almighty
Allah not vouchsafe thee to win thy wish!" Presently his pages
brought her a shemule with gold-embroidered housings and mounting
her thereon, raised over her head a silken canopy, with staves of
gold and silver, and the Franks walked round about her, till they
brought her forth the city by the sea-gate,[FN#504] where they
took boat with her and rowing out to a great ship in harbor
embarked therein. Then the monocular Wazir cried out to the
sailors, saying, "Up with the mast!" So they set it up forthright
and spreading the newly bent sails and the colours manned the
sweeps and put out to sea. Meanwhile Miriam continued to gaze
upon Alexandria, till it disappeared from her eyes, when she fell
a-weeping in her privacy with sore weeping.--And Shahrazad
perceived the dawn of day and ceased to say her permitted say.

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Scottish book of the year goes to Kieron Smith, Boy by James Kelman

The barrister Constance Briscoe has won the libel case brought against her by her mother, Carmen Briscoe-Mitchell, over her bestselling misery memoir Ugly, in which she accused Briscoe-Mitchell of childhood cruelty and neglect.

Briscoe-Mitchell claimed the allegations were "a piece of fiction", and sued Briscoe and her publishers Hodder & Stoughton for libel.

A 10-day hearing at the high court in London concluded earlier today with a unanimous verdict from the jury after more than a day's deliberation. Speaking outside the court, Briscoe, a part-time judge, said she was "very happy" with the verdict.

"It is sad that my mother still feels the need to pursue me. Now I just want to get on with my career," she said. "I can quite understand why my family went into collective denial, but whilst child abuse may be committed behind closed doors, it should never be swept under the carpet."

The hearing saw Briscoe tell Mr Justice Tugendhat and a jury how her mother beat her with a stick for wetting the bed, called her a "dirty little whore" and drove her to attempt suicide by drinking bleach.

Briscoe's account of her upbringing was published in 2006 and has sold more than 400,000 copies in the UK.

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Would you have your ashes scattered in Jane Austen's garden?
American film producer to publish version of the Bible in which God says it is better to be gay than straight

The royal family doesn't need a poet

The power of Jane Austen never ceases to amaze: the myriad film and TV adaptations, the biopics, the spin-off self-help books, the novels about Austen book clubs and Austen obsessives and even, next spring, the publication of a book about "how Jane Austen conquered the world" (Jane's Fame, by Clare Harman). And now comes the just-too-weird story that deceased fans of Jane Austen have been banned from having their ashes scattered in her garden. In a letter to the Jane Austen Society, Louise West, the collections manager of Jane Austen's House Museum, wrote: "While we understand many admirers of Jane Austen would love to have ashes laid here, it is something we do not allow. It is distressing for visitors to see mounds of human ash, particularly so for our gardener. Also, it is of no benefit to the garden!" (Or is it? Surely a small quantity of fresh ashes judiciously placed beneath a hydrangea bush is just the ticket?)

Anyway, leaving aside the Gardeners' Question Time minutiae, what on earth is going on here? I like an Austen novel as much as the next person – I probably reread my way through the complete works every couple of years – but I am baffled as to why one would want to be laid to rest among the flowerbeds of Chawton. The only explanation is the currently unstoppable power of the Austen cult, fuelled by Colin Firth in a wet blouse, by Andrew Davies's adaptations, and by Hollywood. I'm all for enjoying books, but the cult of Austen has reached ridiculous proportions. In a post-feminist world that should know better, she seems to be adored as the comforting provider of romantic, happy-endings nonsense instead of the sharp and acerbic social satirist she deserves to be seen as.

(Does anyone actually believe her, by the way, when she foretells a happy marriage for Darcey and Elizabeth? I fear a woman as interesting as Elizabeth would be sorely disappointed with this standard-issue British Repressed Public-school Man - hopeless emotionally, and probably hopeless in bed.)

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