HOW YÛNUS THE SCRIBE SOLD HIS
SLAVE-GIRL.

TRANSLATOR'S PREFATORY NOTE.

Abu'l-Fáraj-'Aly was a member of the tribe of Kuraish, and a descendant of Marwân-ibn-Muhammad, the last of the 'Omeyyade Kalifahs. His family inhabited Ispahân, but he passed his early youth in Baghdâd, and became the most distinguished scholar and most eminent author of that city. His "Kitâb-el-Aghâny," whence this tale is taken, is considered as unequalled. It is said that he was fifty years in compiling it, and that when the Wazîr, Sahib-ibn-Abbâd (who was looked upon as the wonder of his age for wisdom and learning), received it, he found that he could dispense with the thirty camel-loads of books on literary subjects which he was in the habit of taking with him when travelling or changing residence; the “ Kitâb-el-Aghâny" being sufficient for him. Abu'l-Fáraj wrote many other works, and composed much poetry. He was born A. H. 284 (A.D. 897-8), and died at Baghdâd A.H. 356 (A.D. 967). Previous to his death, his fine intellect became disordered.

A

BU’L-FÁRAJ-EL-ISBAHÂNY, in his Kitâbel-Aghâny (Book of Songs), says, Yûnus the

scribe relates as follows.

During the reign of Hishâm-ibn-'Abd-el-Málik, I set

set off for Syria, taking with me a slave-girl musician, to whom I had taught everything required by her art, and whose value to me I estimated at a hundred thousand dirhems. And when we drew near Syria, the caravan halted at a pool of water, by the side of which I dismounted, spread the food I had with me, and brought out a flask of wine. And whilst I was thus occupied, behold! a young man of fair countenance and form, mounted upon a chesnut horse, came by, and two attendants with him. And he saluted me, and asked, "Wilt thou receive me as thy guest?" I replied, "Certainly;" and held his stirrup while he dismounted.

Then he said, “Give me to drink of thy wine."

So I gave him to drink, and he added, "Will it please thee to sing me a song?'

"

So I sang to him,

Beauties, never before united, in her are met together;
And for love of her, tears and sleeplessness are sweet to me.

And he praised this warmly, and begged for a repetition of it many times; and then said, "Speak to thy slave-girl, and let her sing."

So I commanded her, and she sang,

A young girl bewilders my heart with her beauties;
For she is not a reed, and she is not the sun, nor is she

the moon.

And this also pleased him greatly, and he asked several times to have it repeated. And he did not quit his position until time for our evening prayer, after which he inquired, "What brings thee to this our town?"

"I want to sell this slave-girl," I replied.

"And how much demandest thou as her price?" he asked.

I answered, "Enough to pay my debts and to put my affairs in good order."

"Thirty thousand?" said he.

"By favour of Allâh, that and more," I replied. "Will forty thousand satisfy thee?" he asked. "That would pay my debts," said I, "but my hands would remain empty."

Then he said, "Verily I will take her for fifty thousand dirhems; and besides that, thou shalt have a rich robe, and the expenses of thy journey, and I will make thee a partner in my business so long as I live."

Surely I have sold her to thee!" I cried.

Then he asked, "If I take her with me, wilt thou trust me to send this to thee in the morning; or shall she stay with thee until it is brought to thee tomorrow?"

Now the wine had overpowered me, and the consequent confusion and bashfulness caused me to say, "To be sure! I will certainly trust thee. Take her, and may Allâh make thee happy with her!"

So he said to one of his young men, "Place her upon thy animal, and get up behind, and take her away." And then he himself mounted, and took leave of me, and departed.

And he had been scarcely an instant out my sight ere I was conscious of the mistake and error into which I had fallen. And I cried, "What have I done? I have parted with my slave-girl to a man with whom I have no acquaintance, nor do I even know who he is; and supposing I did know him, where is he to be found?"

So I sat down thinking over this, until the dawn prayer-hour. And my companions went into Damascus, but I remained behind, perplexed and undecided what I should do. And the sun beat down upon me, and I hated the place. And I thought of entering

Damascus, but afterwards I said, "It would not do for the messenger to come and not find me, for then verily I should have committed a second error against myself." So I sat down in the shade of a wall hard by. And when the day was far spent, behold! one of the two youths who had been with the young man drew near. And I never remember to have felt greater pleasure at anything than my pleasure that moment on seeing him.

And he said to me, "O my lord! I am late in reaching thee."

But I said not a word to him of what I had suffered.

Then he asked me, "Didst thou recognize the man?

I said, "No."

"He is the heir-apparent," said he, "el-Walîd-ibnHisham." Upon hearing which, I remained silent. Then he said, "Rise, and mount."

This is another careless misstatement of historical fact. El-Walîd was the heir-apparent, but he was the nephew, and not the son, of Hishâm; the Khalifah, Yezîd-ibn-’Abd-el-Málik having nominated his brother Hishâm to succeed him, on condition that upon the death of the last-named prince, his own son, el-Walîd, should be called to the throne.