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ABOU BEN ADHEM was bothered more by disappointed
lovers than by any other class of people.
Every day he was called upon to apply the
salve of wisdom to the burns inflicted by love.

One morning a young man came to him with a
pitiful story of cruel disappointment. He loved a
beautiful girl in Hackensack, who had imposed conditions
upon him which, one after another, he had
fulfilled, only to behold her marry another man after
all. What should he do?

“Listen,” said Abou, “to the story of my life.

“I too have loved, — I too have been disappointed.”

“For a time life had no charms for me, for I lost
faith in humanity.

“My pitcher went to the well once, — it was broken,
and it seemed to me that it never could be
mended.

“Life was to me an empty egg-shell.

“Some centuries ago I was a gushing youth of
twenty-two. I loved a vest of many colors, I

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doted on perfumery, and a tooth-brush was my
`young man's best companion.' I do not, I cannot,
inveigh against tooth-brushes, but only against
the motive for using them. It was appearance, in
my case, not cleanliness. I suffered in No. 7 boots,
when comfort and private good demanded No. 10s.
Corns now remind me of my folly. So true it is
that the excesses of our youth are merely drafts upon
our old age. I wore linen of the whitest, coats most
faultless, — I was, in short, young and a fool. Alas,
that one never discovers that he is a fool till it is too
late to avert the consequences thereof!

“Of course I was in love; no young men of the
style I have indicated are ever out of it. Love
prompted the flaming vests, the snowy linen, the
tooth-brush, and the tight boots.

“Her name was Zara. She was beautiful as an
houri and as skittish as a young colt. `Skittish'
is not an elegant word, but it is expressive, and I use
it. In my youth I sacrificed utility to elegance:
I reverse the order in my old age. She was skittish.
She flirted with all the young men in the neighborhood.
Her father was rich, and consequently all the young
men in the neighborhood were in love with her.
They all longed to revel in her charms, and to revel
in the old gentleman's money, when Death, that hard-hitter,
should finally send him to grass. She played
her cards so skilfully that she had twenty of us, all
wearing tight boots, each fixed in the belief that he
was the favored man. Each looked upon the old
gentleman's acres with a proprietary look, and

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became interested in his cough. I was an intimate
friend of the village druggist. I took a cheerful
satisfaction in looking over her father's drug account
from day to day. I was melancholy only when it
was running light.

“I proposed to Zara and was accepted, — that is,
conditionally. She told me she loved me, but that
filial love was, with her, above any other variety of
the article. There was an obstacle. `My Pa would
never consent,' said she, `to my marrying you, as
poor as you are at date. Go and accumulate ducats;
return and claim me.'

“`Wilt be faithful, wilt wait for me till I return?'
said I.

“`Faithful forever!' said she.

“I rushed from her presence frantically. It was
eight o'clock in the evening. I did not see Agha
ben Dad ride up and dismount, just as I mounted
and rode away. So closely run the threads of life.

“I tossed in my bed all night. Various schemes
of lucre-gathering suggested themselves to my fevered
mind. I thought of highway robbery, of
patent-right business, of forgery, of life insurance,
of writing for magazines, and of a dozen other quick
roads to fortune, but I rejected all of them. Hindostan!
That was the correct thing. I would go to
the land of gold. I would turn up shining nuggets.
I would say as I pouched them, `Zara,' and so forth.

“I read yellow-covered novels in those days. Alas
that I cannot now believe that they were tales of real
life!

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“I packed my valise and was at the station next
morning. I met Agha ben Dan also with a valise.
I asked him where he was journeying. He answered
me. He had tired of the farm, and his soul loathed
the country store. He was for Hindostan and gold!

“Fool that I was! I told him likewise, and we
agreed to go together, work together, and be partners
in all things. I did know that Zara — but I anticipate.

“We started together, we were sea-sick together,
we recovered together, we arrived together. We
made our way to the mines, and set to work at once.

“We each noticed that a great change had come
over the other. At home we had been great spendthrifts.
No one had squandered the hard-earned sixpence
on the quarter section of moist gingerbread,
on training days, with more freedom than had Agha,
and no one for the yeasty cider had paid his three-pence
more like a man than had I. We had been, at
home, roysterers; and aged crones had wagged wisely
their heads, and predicted that nothing good could
come of such spendthrifts and ne'er-do-weels.

“But here it was different. Every cent was saved.
We did not even buy clothing. We were not like
the lilies of the field, for we did toil, and if the lilies
were not arrayed better than we, they were a shabby
set. A rear view of Agha's pantaloons, when he
stooped over his work, was far from pleasant, and I
was very like him.

“One day at noon — shall I ever forget that day?—
while we were pensively eating our fried pork, I

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happened to ask him why he ever came to that Godforsaken
country. His answer is printed on my soul
as though it had been branded with an iron heated to
a red heat: —

“`My girl would not marry me till I had made
money. I am here to make it — to go back and
marry her.'

“`Shake!' I replied. `Singular, but I too am
here under the same circumstances. It is a coincidence.
Shake!'

“It was more of a coincidence than I supposed.
Agha took my hand fervently, remarking, —

“`It is a coincidence. Let us to our labor. Let
us make our pile and get out of this. Let us go
back, you marry your girl, I 'll marry Zara, and —'

“`Zara!' shrieked I, `Zara who?'

“`Why, Zara the daughter of Musteef the bellows-mender.
Who else?'

“We understood each other. From that moment
we hated each other. In quest of Cupid's gold, we
had jumped each other's claim. We were each prospecting
on ground claimed by the other. We scowled
at each other as young Persian tragedians always
do when they wish to express loathing, hate, and
scorn.

“I am a man quick of action. Hastily gathering
up all I could lay my hands upon, I took advantage
of Agha's going up the mountain after a valuable deposit
we had there, to spring upon the partnership
mule and hie me to Kuldud. Little cared I for gold
or deposits of any kind. Zara was my gold-mine,

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and to get back to her and claim the fulfilment of
her promise was my only thought.

“I hoped I had stolen a march upon him, for we
had but one mule. He, too, was a quick man. He
promptly stole another mule of a neighboring camp
and followed. We arrived together. A steamer
was just on the point of sailing. We embarked on
her.

“Twice on that horrible passage I attempted to
throw him overboard. I would have committed murder.
His superior strength thwarted my kind intentions.
He threw me overboard, and regularly
the sailors interposed and restored me to life and
misery.

“Why did they, ah! why? Life is a mystery.
Will it ever be solved? If not, why not?

“At Ispahan we took the river boat. It burned
at Mahrout, but, woe to me! we were saved. Fate
again. Escaping the perils of the hotels there, we
made our way to Baklon, and, utterly reckless of
life, took passage on the Bulbul Road, which was
then strap-rail and given to indulging in snake-heads.
I cared naught for snake-heads. I would laugh sardonically
as they would rip open the bottom of the
car, grazing my leg. They did not mash me. It was
written that I should be spared for something worse.
I was to fulfil my fate. I was doomed to drain the
cup to its dregs. We were in the same car. We
came to the station nearest our village. Springing
from the car we made our way to the livery stable.
There were two teams in, and we engaged them. We

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started from the stable together. Our driving was
furious. The prize at the end of the race was Zara.
What cared we for horse-flesh?

“We drew near the mansion of Musteef. It was
9 P. M. For what was the venerable mansion so
brilliantly illuminated? Why that array of wagons
and horses tied to the fence in front? We sprang to
the door, our right hands grasped the knob.

“`She is mine!' hissed I.

“`She is mine!' hissed he.

“We grappled in a fierce embrace. Down I went
as usual. It was written that I should always go
down. I fell against the door, bumping it open.
We lay in a death-grapple, half our bodies inside the
room.

“What did our eyes behold?

“A great company assembled. On the floor of
the square room was a maiden in white, by her side
a young man in black, and in front of them a mufti,
who was pronouncing these words, —

“`Whom God hath joined together let no man put
asunder.'

“As we heard those words, Agha relaxed his hold
upon my throat, and, not to be outdone in generosity,
I took my hair out of his left hand.

“`She is not mine!' said he.

“`She is not mine!' said I.

“`She is not either of ours!' said we both in
chorus.

“And we added objurgations, at which she laughed.

“Need I say that the maiden in white was Zara?

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Need I relate that the young man in black was the
tax-gatherer at the village?

“Need I relate what Agha told me, that within an
hour after Zara had plighted her troth to me, conditioned
upon my acquiring filthy lucre, she did the
same thing to him? Need I narrate how she had
done the same thing with a dozen others? No! I
need not.

“For a time the world looked very dark to me. I
thought I was a broken man, and said, `If I ever
marry, it will be for a nurse in my old age.' It
seemed to me that on the garden of my love Untruth
had sown salt.

“I was despondent for an age, — that is, for four
days. But by degrees the aspect of things changed.
I concluded that I would not die, but that I would
live, and work my way to such a height of grandeur
that Zara would never cease to regret that she jilted
me. In two weeks I found myself totally indifferent
to her, and in a month I was rejoiced that I had
escaped her; for her husband discovered that she
had a tongue, and, to use an Orientalism, she made
it warm for him.

“What shall you do? By the bones of the prophet,
do nothing! It is one of those things that, be chesm,
do themselves. Your lost love is neither the beginning
nor the ending of life. Several things remain
to you. She is false, and you are the victim. Very
good. Nature is not going into bankruptcy. The
sun will rise and set just the same; corn will grow,
birds will sing, and rain will fall as before. My

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experience is that it 's a toss-up that you are not the
better off without her; and, doubtless, it 's a toss-up
if she be not better off without you. Everything is
right as it is, my son.

“Go about your business. Philosophy is the pill
for your mental system, and labor is the tonic to
follow it. These two will restore you to your normal
condition. Go, my son, and be as happy as
possible. Go.”

p632-041

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