Fatme`s rescue

y brother`s courage entirely deserted him. “This is the result of my cruel father`s curse that is driving me to an ignominious death!” exclaimed he, in tears. “And thou, too, sweet sister, and thou, Zoraide, art lost!”
“Your dissimulation will avail you nothing,” said one of the robbers, who was engaged in tying Mustapha`s hands behind his back. “Get out of the tent quickly, for the Strong One is biting his lips and glancing at his dagger. If you would live another night, come quickly!”
As the robbers were leading my brother out of the tent, they encountered three others, who were pushing in a prisoner before them. “We have brought you the Pasha as you commanded us,” said they, and led the prisoner up to the cushions where Orbasan reclined. While the prisoner was being led forward, my brother had an opportunity to observe him closely, and he was forced to acknowledge the striking resemblance which this man bore to him, only the stranger`s complexion was darker and he wore a black beard.
Orbasan seemed much astonished over the appearance of the second prisoner. “Which of you, then, is the right one?” asked he, looking from one to the other.
“If you mean the Pasha of Sulieika,” answered the prisoner, in a proud tone, “I am he.”
Orbasan gazed at him some time with a stern, hard expression, and then silently beckoned the men to lead him away. When they had done so, Orbasan went up to my brother, cut his bonds with his dagger, and motioned to him to sit down with him on the cushions. “I am sorry, young stranger,” said he, “that I mistook you for that monster. It was, indeed, a singular dispensation of fate which led you into the hands of my comrades at the same hour that was destined to see the fall of that traitor.” My brother begged of him but one favor: that he might be allowed to continue on his journey at once, as the least delay would prove fatal to his purpose. Orbasan inquired what the nature of the affair was that required such haste, and when Mustapha had told him every thing, Orbasan persuaded him to remain in his tent over night, as he and his horse were in need of rest, and promised that in the morning he would show him a way by which he could reach Balsora in a day and a half.
My brother remained, was hospitably entertained, and slept soundly until morning in the tent of the robber chief. When he awakened he found himself all alone, but before the curtain of the tent he heard several voices, one of which belonged to Orbasan and another to Hassan. He listened, and heard, to his horror, that the little old man was urging upon Orbasan the necessity of killing him, lest he should betray them when he had regained his liberty. Mustapha felt sure that Hassan hated him, because he had been the cause of the little fellow`s being handled so roughly the night before. Orbasan remained silent for some moments, and then replied: “No, he is my guest, and the laws of hospitality are sacred with me; neither does he look like an informer.”
Thus saying, Orbasan flung aside the curtain and entered. “Peace be with you, Mustapha,” said he. “Let us take our morning draught, and then prepare yourself to start.” He handed my brother a glass of sherbet, and when they had drunk, they saddled their horses, and with a lighter heart than he had entered the camp, Mustapha swung himself into his seat.
They had soon left the tents far behind, and followed a broad path that led into the forest. Orbasan told my brother that the Pasha who had been captured had promised that he would permit them to remain undisturbed in his territory; yet but a few weeks after he took one of their bravest men prisoner, and hanged him with the most horrible torture. Orbasan had had spies on his track for a long time, and now he must die. Mustapha did not venture to oppose his purpose, as he was thankful to get away with a whole skin himself.
At the end of the forest Orbasan stopped his horse, described the way to my brother, offered him his hand at parting, and said: “Mustapha, you became the guest of the robber Orbasan under singular circumstances. I will not require you to promise that you will not betray what you have seen and heard. You were unjustly forced to suffer the fear of death, and I am, therefore, in your debt. Take this dagger as a keepsake, and if you are ever in need of help, send it to me, and I will hasten to your assistance. This purse you may be able to use on your journey.”
My brother thanked him for his generosity, and took the dagger, but refused the purse. Orbasan pressed his hand once more, letting the purse fall to the ground, and sprang with the speed of the wind into the forest. When Mustapha saw that Orbasan did not intend to return for the purse, he dismounted and picked it up, starting at the generosity of his host, as he found it contained a large sum of gold. He thanked Allah for his rescue, recommended the generous robber to His mercy, and continued on his way to Balsora with a lighter heart.
Lezah, the story-teller, paused, and looked inquiringly at the merchant who had spoken so bitterly of Orbasan. The latter said–
“Well, if all that be so, I will cheerfully reverse my judgment of Orbasan, for he really treated your brother handsomely.”
“He behaved like a true Musselman,” exclaimed Muley. “But I hope your story was not ended there, for we are all curious to hear more; how things went with your brother, and whether he rescued your sister Fatima and the beautiful Zoraide.”
“If I do not weary you, I will willingly continue,” replied Lezah; “for this story of my brother is certainly adventurous and wonderful.”
With this, he continued his story.
At noon on the seventh day of his departure from home, Mustapha entered the gate of Balsora. As soon as he had reached a caravansary, he made inquiries as to when the slave auction, held there every year, opened. He received in reply the dreadful news that he had arrived two days too late. They deplored his delay, and told him that he had missed a fine sight, for on the last day of the auction two female slaves had been put up, of such extraordinary beauty as to attract the attention of all bidders. There was sharp competition for their possession, and the bidding ran up so high as to frighten off everybody but their present owner. Mustapha made more particular inquiries, until he had satisfied himself beyond a doubt that these slaves were the unfortunate objects of his search. He learned further that the name of the man who had bought them was Thiuli-Kos; that he lived a good forty-hours` journey from Balsora, and was a rich and elderly man of rank, who had formerly been senior Pasha of the Shah, but had now retired from official life to live upon his means.
At first thought, Mustapha was about to mount his horse and hasten after Thiuli-Kos, who had only a day the start of him; but, after reflecting that, alone and unattended, he could hardly approach so powerful and rich a man, and still less hope to rob him of his possessions, he tried to devise some other plan, and soon hit upon one that appeared feasible. The singular mistake of confounding him with the Pasha of Sulieika, which had been so nearly fatal to him, suggested the idea of visiting the house of Thiuli-Kos, under this name, and then attempting the rescue of the unfortunate maidens. Accordingly he hired horses and servants–for which purpose Orbasan`s money proved very useful–provided fine clothes for himself and servants, and set out for Thiuli`s castle.
In five days he reached the vicinity of the castle, which was situated in a beautiful plain, enclosed within high walls, above which but little could be seen of the buildings. Arriving there, Mustapha dyed his hair and beard black, and painted his face with the juice of a plant, that gave him quite as brown a complexion as the real Pasha had possessed. Thereupon he sent one of his servants to the castle to request a night`s lodging, in the name of the Pasha of Sulieika. The servant soon returned, and with him came four finely costumed slaves, who took hold of the bridle of Mustapha`s horse, and led him into the court of the castle. There they assisted him to dismount, when four others conducted him up the broad marble steps to the presence of Thiuli. The latter proved to be a jovial old fellow, and he received my brother with due honor, and set before him the best that his cook could prepare.
After the table was cleared, Mustapha turned the conversation to the new slaves, and Thiuli boasted of their beauty, while complaining of their sadness; this, however, he believed would soon disappear. My brother was well pleased with his reception, and betook himself to rest, feeling very hopeful. He had slept perhaps an hour, when he was awakened by the gleam of a lamp that dazzled his eyes. As he raised himself in bed, he believed that he must still be dreaming, for before him stood that little dark-skinned man whom he had seen in Orbasan`s tent. He held a lamp in his hand, and his broad mouth was distorted by a horrible grimace. Mustapha pinched his own arm and pulled his nose, in order to convince himself that he was awake; but the apparition remained as before.
“What will you at my bed-side?” cried Mustapha, as soon as he had recovered from his astonishment.
“Don`t trouble yourself, Master,” replied Hassan, “I have found out your purpose in coming here; nor was your worthy face forgotten by me. But really, if I had not helped to hang the Pasha with my own hands, I might perhaps have been deceived. Now I have come to put a question.”
“First of all, tell me how you came here,” returned Mustapha, furious at being betrayed.
“I will tell you,” replied Hassan, “I could not get along with Orbasan any longer; therefore I ran away. But you, Mustapha, was the cause of our quarrel, and therefore you must give me your sister to wed, and I will assist you in your flight. If you do not agree to this, I will go to my new master and tell him something about the new …