The Porter and the Three Ladies of Baghdad

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Then the lady took the cup and drank it off to her sisters’ health, and they ceased not drinking (the porter being in the midst of them) and dancing and laughing and reciting verses and singing ballads and ritornellos. All this time the porter was carrying on with them, kissing, toying, biting, handling, groping, fingering whilst one thrust a dainty morsel in his mouth and another slapped him, and this cuffed his cheeks, and that threw sweet flowers at him. And he was in the very paradise of pleasure, as though he were sitting in the seventh sphere among the houris of Heaven. And they ceased not to be after this fashion till night began to fall. Thereupon said they to the porter, "Bismillah, O our master, up and on with those sorry old shoes of thine and turn thy face and show us the breadth of thy shoulders!" Said he: "By Allah, to part with my soul would be easier for me than departing from you. Come, let us join night to day, and tomorrow morning we will each wend our own way." "My life on you," said the procuratrix, "suffer him to tarry with us, that we may laugh at him. We may live out our lives and never meet with his like, for surely he is a right merry rogue and a witty." So they said: "Thou must not remain with us this night save on condition that thou submit to our commands, and that whatso thou seest, thou ask no questions thereanent, nor inquire of its cause." "All right," rejoined he, and they said, "Go read the writing over the door."
So he rose and went to the entrance and there found written in letters of gold wash: WHOSO SPEAKETH OF WHAT CONCERNETH HIM NOT SHALL HEAR WHAT PLEASETH HIM NOT! The porter said, "Be ye witnesses against me that I will not speak on whatso concerneth me not." Then the cateress arose and set food before them and they ate. After which they changed their drinking place for another, and she lighted the lamps and candles and burned ambergris and aloe wood, and set on fresh fruit and the wine service, when they fell to carousing and talking of their lovers. And they ceased not to eat and drink and chat, nibbling dry fruits and laughing and playing tricks for the space of a full hour, when lo! a knock was heard at the gate.
The knocking in no wise disturbed the seance, but one of them rose and went to see what it was and presently returned, saying, "Truly our pleasure for this night is to be perfect." "How is that?" asked they, and she answered: "At the gate be three Persian Kalandars with their beards and heads and eyebrows shaven, and all three blind of the left eye- which is surely a strange chance. They are foreigners from Roumland with the mark of travel plain upon them. They have just entered Baghdad, this being their first visit to our city, and the cause of their knocking at our door is simply because they cannot find a lodging. Indeed one of them said to me: ’Haply the owner of this mansion will let us have the key of his stable or some old outhouse wherein we may pass this night.’ For evening had surprised them and, being strangers in the land, they knew none who would give them shelter. And, O my sisters, each of them is a figure o’ fun after his own fashion, and if we let them in we shall have matter to make sport of." She gave not over persuading them till they said to her: "Let them in, and make thou the usual condition with them that they speak not of what concerneth them not, lest they hear what pleased them not."
So she rejoiced and, going to the door, presently returned with the three monoculars whose beards and mustachios were clean-shaven. They salaamed and stood afar off by way of respect, but the three ladies rose up to them and welcomed them and wished them joy of their safe arrival and made them sit down. The Kalandars looked at the room and saw that it was a pleasant place, clean-swept and garnished with flowers, and the lamps were burning and the smoke of perfumes was spiring in air, and beside the dessert and fruits and wine, there were three fair girls who might be maidens. So they exclaimed with one voice, "By Allah, ’tis good!" Then they turned to the porter and saw that he was a merry-faced wight, albeit he was by no means sober and was sore after his slappings. So they thought that he was one of themselves and said, "A mendicant like us, whether Arab or foreigner!"
But when the porter heard these words, he rose up and, fixing his eyes fiercely upon them, said: "Sit ye here without exceeding in talk! Have you not read what is writ over the door? Surely it befitteth not fellows who come to us like paupers to wag your tongues at us." "We crave thy pardon, O Fakir," rejoined they, "and our heads are between thy hands." The ladies laughed consumedly at the squabble and, making peace between the Kalandars and the porter, seated the new guests before meat, and they ate. Then they sat together, and the portress served them with drink, and as the cup went round merrily, quoth the porter to the askers, "And you, O brothers mine, have ye no story or rare adventure to amuse us withal?"
Now the warmth of wine having mounted to their heads, they called for musical instruments, and the portress brought them a tambourine of Mosul, and a lute of Irak, and a Persian harp. And each mendicant took one and tuned it, this the tambourine and those the lute and the harp, and struck up a merry tune while the ladies sang so lustily that there was a great noise. And whilst they were carrying on, behold, someone knocked at the gate, and the portress went to see what was the matter there.
Now the cause of that knocking, O King (quoth Scheherazade) was this, the Caliph Harun al-Rashid had gone forth from the palace, as was his wont now and then, to solace himself in the city that night, and to see and hear what new thing was stirring. He was in merchant’s gear, and he was attended by Ja’afar, his Wazir, and by Masrur, his Sworder of Vengeance. As they walked about the city, their way led them toward the house of the three ladies, where they heard the loud noise of musical instruments and singing and merriment. So quoth the Caliph to Ja’afar, "I long to enter this house and hear those songs and see who sing them." Quoth Ja’afar, "O Prince of the Faithful, these folk are surely drunken with wine, and I fear some mischief betide us if we get amongst them." "There is no help but that I go in there," replied the Caliph, "and I desire thee to contrive some pretext for our appearing among them." Ja’afar replied, "I hear and I obey," and knocked at the door, whereupon the portress came out and opened. Then Ja’afar came forward and, kissing the ground before her, said, "O my lady, we be merchants from Tiberias town. We arrived at Baghdad ten days ago and, alighting at the merchants’ caravanserai, we sold all our merchandise. Now a certain trader invited us to an entertainment this night, so we went to his house and he set food before us and we ate. Then we sat at wine and wassail with him for an hour or so when he gave us leave to depart. And we went out from him in the shadow of the night and, being strangers, we could not find our way back to our khan. So haply of your kindness and courtesy you will suffer us to tarry with you this night, and Heaven will reward you!"
The portress looked upon them and, seeing them dressed like merchants and men of gave looks and solid, she returned to her sisters and repeated to them Ja’afar’s story, and they took compassion upon the strangers and said to her, "Let them enter." She opened the door to them, when said they to her, "Have we thy leave to come in?" "Come in," quoth she, and the Caliph entered, followed by Ja’afar and Masrur. And when the girls saw them they stood up to them in respect and made them sit down and looked to their wants, saying, "Welcome, and well come and good cheer to the guests, but with one condition!" "What is that?" asked they, and one of the ladies answered, "Speak not of what concerneth you not, lest ye hear what pleaseth you not." "Even so," said they, and sat down to their wine and drank deep.
Presently the Caliph looked on the three Kalandars and, seeing them, each and every blind of the left eye, wondered at the sight. Then he gazed upon the girls, and he was startled and he marveled with exceeding marvel at their beauty and loveliness. They continued to carouse and to converse, and said to the Caliph, "Drink!" But he replied, "I am vowed to pilgrimage," and drew back from the wine. Thereupon the portress rose and, spreading before him a tablecloth worked with gold, set thereon a porcelain bowl into which she poured willow-flower water with a lump of snow and a spoonful of sugar candy. The Caliph thanked her and said in himself, "By Allah, I will recompense her tomorrow for the kind deed she hath done." The others again addressed themselves to conversing and carousing, and when the wine gat the better of them, the eldest lady, who ruled the house, rose and, making obeisance to them, took the cateress by the hand and said, "Rise, O my sister, and let us do what is our devoir." Both answered "Even so!"
Then the portress stood up and proceeded to remove the table service and the remnants of the banquet, and renewed the pastilies and cleared the middle of the saloon. Then she made the Kalandars sit upon a sofa at the side of the estrade, and seated the Caliph and Ja’afar and Masrur on the other side of the saloon, after which she called the porter, and said: "How scant is thy courtesy! Now thou art no stranger- nay, thou art one of the household." So he stood up and, tightening his waistcloth, asked, "What would ye I do?" And she answered, "Stand in thy place." Then the procuratrix rose and set in the midst of the saloon a low chair and, opening a closet, cried to the porter, "Come help me."
So he went to help her and saw two black bitches with chains round their necks, and she said to him, "Take hold of them," and he took them and led them into the middle of the saloon. Then the lady of the house arose and tucked up her sleeves above her wrists and, seizing a scourge, said to the porter, "Bring forward one of the bitches." He brought her forward, dragging her by the chain, while the bitch wept and shook her head at the lady, who, however, came down upon her with blows on the sconce. And the bitch howled and the lady ceased not beating her till her forearm failed her. Then, casting the scourge from her hand, she pressed the bitch to her bosom and, wiping away her tears with her hands, kissed her head. Then said she to the porter, "Take her away and bring the second." And when he brought her, she did with her as she had done with the first.
Now the heart of the Caliph was touched at these cruel doings. His chest straitened and he lost all patience in his desire to know why the two bitches were so beaten. He threw a wink at Ja’afar, wishing him to ask, but the Minister, turning toward him, said by signs, "Be silent!" Then quoth the portress to the mistress of the house, "O my lady, arise and go to thy place, that I in turn may do my devoir." She answered, "Even so," and, taking her seat upon the couch of juniper wood, pargetted with gold and silver, said to the portress and cateress, "Now do ye what ye have to do." Thereupon the portress sat upon a low seat by the couch side, but the procuratrix, entering a closet, brought out of it a bag of satin with green fringes and two tassels of gold. She stood up before the lady of the house and, shaking the bag, drew out from it a lute which she tuned by tightening its pegs; and when it was in perfect order, she began to sing these quatrains:

"Ye are the wish, the aim of me,

And when, O love, thy sight I see,

The heavenly mansion openeth,

But Hell I see when lost thy sight.

From thee comes madness, nor the less

Comes highest joy, comes ecstasy.

Nor in my love for thee I fear

Or shame and blame, or hate and spite.

When Love was throned within my heart

I rent the veil of modesty,

And stints not Love to rend that veil,

Garring disgrace on grace to alight.

The robe of sickness then I donned,

But rent to rags was secrecy.

Wherefore my love and longing heart

Proclaim your high supremest might.

The teardrop railing adown my cheek

Telleth my tale of ignomy.

And all the hid was seen by all

And all my riddle ree’d aright.

Heal then my malady, for thou

Art malady and remedy!

But she whose cure is in thy hand

Shall ne’er be free of bane and blight.

Burn me those eyne that radiance rain,

Slay me the swords of phantasy.

How many hath the sword of Love

Laid low, their high degree despite?

Yet will I never cease to pine,

Nor to oblivion will I flee.

Love is my health, my faith, my joy,

Public and private, wrong or right.

O happy eyes that sight thy charms,

That gaze upon thee at their gree!

Yea, of my purest wish and will

The slave of Love I’ll aye be hight."

When the damsel heard this elegy in quatrains, she cried out "Alas! Alas!" and rent her raiment, and fell to the ground fainting. And the Caliph saw scars of the palm rod on her back and welts of the whip, and marveled with exceeding wonder. Then the portress arose and sprinkled water on her and brought her a fresh and very fine dress and put it on her. But when the company beheld these doings, their minds were troubled, for they had no inkling of the case nor knew the story thereof. So the Caliph said to Ja’afar: "Didst thou not see the scars upon the damsel’s body? I cannot keep silence or be at rest till I learn the truth of her condition and the story of this other maiden and the secret of the two black bitches." But Ja’afar answered: "O our lord, they made it a condition with us that we speak not of what concerneth us not, lest we come to hear what pleaseth us not."
Then said the portress, "By Allah, O my sister, come to me and complete this service for me." Replied the procuratrix, "With joy and goodly gree." So she took the lute and leaned it against her breasts and swept the strings with her finger tips, and began singing:

"Give back mine eyes their sleep long ravished,

And say me whither be my reason fled.

I learnt that lending to thy love a place,

Sleep to mine eyelids mortal foe was made.

They said, `We held thee righteous. Who waylaid

Thy soul?’ ’Go ask his glorious eyes,’ I said.

I pardon all my blood he pleased to shed.

Owning his troubles drove him blood to shed.

On my mind’s mirror sunlike sheen he cast,

Whose keen reflection fire in vitals bred.

Waters of Life let Allah waste at will,

Suffice my wage those lips of dewy red.

And thou address my love thou’lt find a cause

For plaint and tears or ruth or lustilied.

In water pure his form shall greet your eyne,

When fails the bowl nor need ye drink of wine."

Then she quoted from the same ode:

"I drank, but the draught of his glance, not wine,

And his swaying gait swayed to sleep these eyne.

’Twas not grape juice gript me but grasp of Past,

’Twas not bowl o’erbowled me but gifts divine.

His coiling curllets my soul ennetted

And his cruel will all my wits outwitted."

After a pause she resumed:

"If we ’plain of absence, what shall we say?

Or if pain afflict us, where wend our way?

An I hire a truchman to tell my tale,

The lovers’ plaint is not told for pay.

If I put on patience, a lover’s life

After loss of love will not last a day.

Naught is left me now but regret, repine,

And tears flooding cheeks forever and aye.

O thou who the babes of these eyes hast fled,

Thou art homed in heart that shall never stray.

Would Heaven I wot hast thou kept our pact

Long as stream shall flow, to have firmest fay?

Or hast forgotten the weeping slave,

Whom groans afflict and whom griefs waylay?

Ah, when severance ends and we side by side

Couch, I’ll blame thy rigors and chide thy pride!"

Now when the portress heard her second ode, she shrieked aloud and said: "By Allah! ’Tis right good!" and, laying hands on her garments, tore them as she did the first time, and fell to the ground fainting. Thereupon the procuratrix rose and brought her a second change of clothes after she had sprinkled water on her. She recovered and sat upright and said to her sister the cateress, "Onward, and help me in my duty, for there remains but this one song." So the provisioneress again brought out the lute and began to sing these verses:

"How long shall last, how long this rigor rife of woe

May not suffice thee all these tears thou seest flow?

Our parting thus with purpose fell thou dost prolong

Is’t not enough to glad the heart of envious foe?

Were but this lying world once true to lover heart,

He had not watched the weary night in tears of woe.

Oh, pity me whom overwhelmed thy cruel will,

My lord, my king, ’tis time some ruth to me thou show.

To whom reveal my wrongs, O thou who murdered me?

Sad, who of broken troth the pangs must undergo!

Increase wild love for thee and frenzy hour by hour,

And days of exile minute by so long, so slow.

O Moslems, claim vendetta for this slave of Love,

Whose sleep Love ever wastes, whose patience Love lays low.

Doth law of Love allow thee, O my wish! to lie

Lapt in another’s arms and unto me cry ’Go!’?

Yet in thy presence, say, what joys shall I enjoy

When he I love but works my love to overthrow?"

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