determined to leave
it. Dressed as a dervish I joined a caravan for Tehran.

_II.--The Fate of the Lovely_

I at first resolved to follow the career of a dervish, tempted thereto
by the confidences of my companion, Dervish Sefer, who befriended me
after my unhappy encounter with the Mohtesib.

"With one-fiftieth of your accomplishments, and a common share of
effrontery," he told me, "you may command both the purses and the lives
of your hearers. By impudence I have been a prophet, by impudence I have
wrought miracles--by impudence, in short, I live a life of great ease."

But a chance came to me of stealing a horse, the owner of which
confessed he had himself stolen it; and by selling it I hoped to add to
the money I had obtained as a dervish, and thereby get into some
situation where I might gain my bread honestly. Unfortunately, when I
had reached Tehran, the real owner of the horse appeared. I was
compelled to refund to the dealer the money I had been paid for the
horse, and had some difficulty, when we went before the magistrate at
the bazaar, in proving that I was not a thief. I had heard that the
court poet, with whom I had formed a friendship during his captivity
among the Turcomans, had escaped and returned to Tehran. To him,
therefore, I repaired, and through his good offices I secured a post as
assistant to Mirza Ahmak, the king's chief physician.

Although the physician was willing to have my services, he was too
avaricious to pay me anything for them; and I would not have remained
long with him had I not fallen in love. In the heat of summer I made any
bed in the open air, in a corner of a terrace that overlooked an inner
court where the women's apartments were situated. I came presently to
exchanging glances with a beautiful Curdish slave. From glances we came
to conversation. At length, when Zeenab--for that was her name--was
alone in the women's apartments, she would invite me down from the
terrace, and we would spend long hours feasting and singing together.

But our felicity was destined to be interrupted. The Shah was about to
depart for his usual summer campaign, and, according to his wont, paid a
round of visits to noblemen, thereby reaping for himself a harvest of
presents. The physician, being reputed rich, was marked out as prey fit
for the royal grasp. The news of the honour to be paid him left him
half-elated at the distinction, half-trembling at the ruin that awaited
his finances. Th