Faristan and Fatima.
An Oriental Legend.

Part I.
Once in a famous Eastern city,1
                           
                           There lived a tailor with a pretty,2
                           
                           In fact a very pretty wife,3
                           
                           Whom he loved better than his life.4
                           
                           Her eyes were of the blackest sort,5
                           
                           No lily’s stem was half so slender,6
                           
                           Of finest silk her hair seem’d wrought,7
                           
                           Her rosy cheeks were smooth and tender,8
                           
                           Her age scarce twenty,—and, in short,9
                           
                           It was impossible to mend her.10
                           
                           One day quoth he :  “ You darling little wife, you
                                  !11
                           
                           Whatever would become of hapless me,12
                           
                           If I should happen to survive you,13
                           
                           And your fair body I should see14
                           
                           Lying a corpse, all cold and void of motion,15
                           
                           Within my arms ?  The very notion16
                           
                           Gives me a chill as if I now were dying !17
                           
                           I swear that if I, wretched man,18
                           
                           Only survive the shock, you’ll find me lying19
                           
                           Upon your tomb for nine long days, and crying,20
                           
                           Crying the very best I can !” —21
                           “ And if, dear husband,” she began,22
                           
                           I’m the survivor when we’re parted,23
                           
                           I’ll buried be, my Faristan,24
                           
                           Inside your coffin, broken-hearted.”—25
                           
                           
                           “ A noble woman !”  he with rapture thought,26
                           
                           As in his arms his wife he caught.27
                           
                           He felt no doubt about it, for, you know,28
                           
                           She said it,—so it must be so !29
                           About a year had pass’d away30
                           
                           Since the agreement made that day,31
                           
                           When it so chanced that, as they sat.32
                           
                           Over their evening meal of curry,33
                           
                           Spending the time in pleasant chat,34
                           
                           Poor Fatima, in too great hurry35
                           
                           To eat some tit-bit, while her eyes36
                           
                           Ogled, in manner far from wise,37
                           
                           Her husband, not her plate, by ill-luck swallow’d38
                           
                           A little bone—of course you guess what follow’d.39
                           What could be done ?  Poor Faristan40
                           
                           Skips here and there, does all he can,41
                           
                           Upon the back he thumps her,42
                           
                           He shakes her, bumps her, jumps her,43
                           
                           He tries to push it down, heupwards tries to pull
                                    it,—44
                           
                           In vain !  She’s choked by that small bone inside 
her little gullet !45
                           her little gullet !45
Only imagine his despair !46
                           
                           Soon in her winding-sheet they fold her,47
                           
                           Black in the face, it may be, yet so
                                 fair !48
                           
                           He could not summon courage to behold her.49
                           Now Fatima is in her grave,50
                           
                           And Faristan begins to rave,51
                           
                           And rolls upon it, sighing with such ardour,52
                           
                           That he is heard a mile away and more,53
                           
                           Fully resolved (so much did he regard her)54
                           
                           Nine days to stop there, as we know he swore.55
                           The Prophet chanced to pass that way,56
                           
                           Found it impossible to pray57
                           
                           In such a noise, she asked politely :—58
                           
                           “ What mean these groans and writhings so un-
sightly ? ”59
                           sightly ? ”59
“ O, sir !” ’ said he,  “ within this tomb “a lies60
                           
                           The best of wives,—I never knew a chaster61
                           
                           Or nobler woman, loving, young, and wise,—62
                           
                           And in the grave this very day I’ve placed
                                    her.”63
                           The Prophet answer’d :  “ Since you for her sake64
                           
                           Are grieving so, and merit to be lucky,65
                           
                           I’ll grant your wish,” and as he spake,66
                           
                           The staff his hand was grasping struck he67
                           
                           Upon the tomb, and, lo !  it open’d wide,68
                           
                           And Fatima appear’d outside69
                           
                           In health and beauty, and with rapturous passion70
                           
                           Rush’d to her husband’s arms in loving fashion.71
                           
                           How they embraced and hugg’d each other !72
                           
                           Any spectator must have thought73
                           
                           Such kisses were enough to smother74
                           
                           Both man and wife.—And next they sought75
                           
                           To thank the Prophet for this miracle portentous,76
                           
                           But couldn’t—he was non inventus !77
                           Part II.
Good Faristan bethought him then78
                           
                           That Fatima’s loose funeral linen raiment79
                           
                           (Although ’twas dusk) for walking home again80
                           
                           Was scarcely, in the usual way, meant.81
                           
                           “ Light of my eyes !  behind these stones stoop down,82
                           
                           While I run home and fetch your shoes and gown ;83
                           
                           The moon is up, there’s little danger in it,84
                           
                           Fear not, and I’ll be back in half a minute.”85
                           He spoke, and vanish’d like a shot.—86
                           
                           Meanwhile there happen’d to approach the spot87
                           
                           The Sultan’s son, escorted by the light88
                           
                           Of many torches through the night.89
                           
His servants, by the flickering glare,90
                           
                           Perceived a woman with dishevell’d hair,91
                           
                           And scanty clothing, seeking to conceal92
                           
                           Her somewhat striking dishabille,93
                           
                           Which in the darkness, by the torchlight aided,94
                           
                           Seem’d greater than it in the day did.95
                           The Sultan’s son his march suspended,96
                           
                           And then approach’d her unattended,97
                           
                           While she with arms and hands was trying98
                           
                           Her want of clothing to replace,99
                           
                           And left exposed, in beauty vying,100
                           
                           Two legs and feet of matchless grace.101
                           The Prince, instead of putting (as his duty102
                           
                           Clearly enjoin’d) his hands before his face,103
                           
                           With might and main stood staring at the beauty—104
                           
                           “ What loveliness is this I trace !105
                           
                           And yet the time, spot, dress, are rather funny— ”106
                           
                           “ My lord !”  she said in accents sweet as honey,107
                           
                           “ I feel so awkward in this negligée,108
                           
                           I really know not what to say !”109
                           The Prince at once confess’d the force110
                           
                           Of her remark, and then of course111
                           
                           Gave her his own great coat at this suggestion,112
                           
                           And said,  “ Fair lady, just one question !113
                           A man and a woman sitting cross-legged and looking at one another on a short platform.
                           There is a cat and a hookah on the
                           floor. 1/2 page.
                        
                        
                        
                        Pray, are you married ?  If you single are,114
                           
                           Come home with me, and be the brightest 
star115
                           
                           star115
Within my harem !  Be a prince’s bride,116
                           
                           I love you more than all the world beside !” ’117
                           Fair Fatima soon comprehended118
                           
                           Th’ advantage of this offer splendid,119
                           
                           And found her knowledge as a tailor120
                           
                           In measuring its extent avail her.121
                           
                           Alas !  when this proposal made he,122
                           
                           I grieve to say the naughty lady123
                           
                           Forgot her duty and her plighted troth,124
                           
                           Forgot her husband and her oath.125
                           
                           “ My lord !  I’m single, and quite ready126
                           
                           To offer you allegiance steady,127
                           
                           And live but for Your Royal Highness !”128
                           
                           “ A bargain !”  he exclaim’d with slyness ;—129
                           
                           A horse is brought, and, lighted by the 
torches,130
                           
                           torches,130
Soon Fatima’s inside his harem’s porches.131
                           Scarce had she gone, when Faristan comes back,132
                           
                           Bringing the clothes she seem’d to lack.133
                           
                           She is not there !  His wonderment immense is ;134
                           
                           He shouted, search’d, and well-nigh lost his senses.135
                           
                           “ She is some robber’s prize,” then thought
                                    he,—136
                           
                           In this we scarce can contradict him ;137
                           
                           He little dreamt that she could be so naughty,138
                           
                           As to have been a willing victim !139
                           “ Why didn’t I escort her home at once,140
                           
                           Dress’d as she was ?  Alas, poor silly dunce !141
                           
                           In what distress my darling little wife ;142
                           
                           Will be !  She said that she should find her life143
                           
                           So sad without me, that she needs must be144
                           
                           Buried alive in the same grave with me.145
                           
                           You phoenix of a woman !  if a stranger146
                           
                           Has dared to pester you with his advances,147
                           
                           I’m sure that you’ll have saved yourself from danger,148
                           
                           As any noble matron would,—the chance is149
                           
                           That you have scratch’d your face, or torn your hair,150
                           
                           Or even stabb’d yourself in your despair !”151
                           
                           
Alas, poor Faristan deluded,152
                           
                           She felt more happy far than you did !153
                           
                           She liked her quarters in the harem so,154
                           
                           That she had not the slightest wish to go,155
                           
                           And took so kindly to her new position,156
                           
                           She quite forgot you and your sad condition.157
                           Part III.
Poor Faristan begins to seek her158
                           
                           Early and late, through all the country round,159
                           
                           But all in vain; his hopes grow weaker,160
                           
                           No trace of her can anywhere be found.161
                           
                           He also searches for his friend the Prophet,162
                           
                           Hoping that he could tell him something of it.—163
                           At length a person who was present164
                           
                           At the adventure, brought the news un-
pleasant165
                           
                           pleasant165
That Fatima, the good and tender,166
                           
                           Instead of swearing  “ No surrender!”167
                           
                           Had shown the Prince a preference decided,168
                           
                           And in his harem happily resided.169
                           Our hero now no longer waits,170
                           
                           But hastens to the palace gates,171
                           
                           Past all the servants, heralds, 
pushes,172
                           
                           pushes,172
Into the Prince’s very presence rushes,173
                           
                           And there begins he to implore him174
                           
                           His faithful lost one to restore him.175
                           A group of men and one woman. One man is holding a hookah in the background. The hose
                           and mouthpiece of the hookah are looped through the buttonhole of a man in the foreground’s
                           jacket. The woman points to the mouthpiece. 1/2 page.
                        
                        
                        
                        The Prince, kind man (who maybe had enough176
                           
                           Of Fatima ere this), gave no rebuff,177
                           
                           But told him what had pass’d, without conceal-
ment,178
                           
                           ment,178
On learning what this strong appeal meant.179
                           
                           “ She doubtless was beside herself with terror,”180
                           
                           Said Faristan,  “ and thought that you were 
me ;181
                           
                           me ;181
O let her come, and I’ll explain her error,—182
                           
                           My own dear wife !  You presently shall see,183
                           
                           My gracious lord, with how much fervour184
                           
                           She’ll rush to kiss me—heaven preserve her !”185
                           
                           
                           “ ’Tis well !”  the Prince replied,  “ so be it
                                  !186
                           
                           I’ll at a distance stand to see it.”187
                           The lady came—good Faristan188
                           
                           Was so much dazzled by the splendour189
                           
                           Of her gold clothes and jewels, that, poor man,190
                           
                           He knew her scarce, and felt like some pretender.191
                           
                           But Fatima in half a second192
                           
                           Knew him too well, stepp’d back, turn’d deadly 
white,193
                           
                           white,193
Then fiery red ;  but soon she reckon’d194
                           
                           With woman’s wit the way to win the fight.195
                           
                           
Now, when the Prince observed her start, he196
                           
                           Rush’d up and said,  “ You know this party ?”197
                           “ O yes !”  replied the gentlest of all creatures,198
                           
                           I recognise too well his features.199
                           
                           This is the robber who attack’d me,200
                           
                           Beat me, and dragg’d me to the spot from whence201
                           
                           Your Highness had the goodness to extract me,202
                           
                           Half-naked, thanks to his impertinence !”203
                           On hearing his dear wife thus speak,204
                           
                           Poor Faristan turns pale as death,205
                           
                           Stares wildly round, feels faint and weak,206
                           
                           His senses swim, he gasps for breath.207
                           
                           The Court in chorus all asserted208
                           
                           Such conduct proved a mind perverted ;209
                           
                           His guilt was clear, the Prince commanded210
                           
                           That they should take him to the Cadi.211
                           
                           Into the judgment-room he’s handed,212
                           
                           The case is tried, the gentle lady213
                           
                           Duly deposes, our poor friend214
                           
                           Makes no defence, what cares he for his life,215
                           
                           Seeing this conduct of his faithless wife ?216
                           
                           He’d rather have it at an end.217
                           
                           The verdict’s  “ Guilty !” ’ so they take him straight-
way218
                           
                           way218
Off to the gallows near the city’s gateway.219
                           What could have saved his neck and reputation,220
                           
                           As he stood trembling at the gallows’ base,221
                           
                           Had not the Prophet (who in our narration222
                           
                           Has play’d a part) approach’d the place ?223
                           
                           His figure glisten’d with an angel’s splendour.224
                           
                           “ This man is innocent, and no offender,225
                           
                           And I’m his witness too !”  he cried aloud.226
                           
                           The hangman dropp’d the rope, the crowd227
                           
                           Stared when they heard this speech of one228
                           
                           Who never spoke in ignorance or malice,229
                           
                           And all together hasten’d to the palace ;230
                           
                           The Sultan came, attended by his son.231
                           
                           The Prophet, highly honour’d at the Court,232
                           
                           First says his say ;  then Fatima is brought.233
                           
                           Around them both, the others form a ring ;234
                           
                           Too conscious of her guilt, the naughty thing235
                           
                           Lifts up her eyes, the Prophet recognises,236
                           
                           Falls down a corpse, while great the crowd’s sur-
prise is.237
                           prise is.237
Good Faristan gets ample compensation,238
                           
                           While Fatima’s consign’d to her old tomb ;239
                           
                           There she may stop until the day of doom.240
                           
                           He hasn’t now the slightest inclination241
                           
                           To throw himself, and weep, and rave242
                           
                           E’en for nine seconds on her grave.243