THE WAX DEVIL

 

 

The cackling crowd had circled around a dreadful thing, covered with a greasy piece of linen.

Eyes were fixed for a moment on the human form beneath the filthy shroud, and then they rose to the upper floor of a dreary building, whose ramshackle façade bore a decaying "For Rent" sign.

"Look, the window is open!" It has fallen from there!

"He has fallen... or has jumped!

The dawn was unpleasant, and a few lanterns were still burning here and there. The crowd consisted mainly of people who had to get up very early to go to the factory or office. Although it led to Cornhill, the street was not very lively; It was a long time before the bobbies discovered the corpse, which would remain there, in its ridiculous posture of a disjointed doll, until the commissioner arrived. He soon appeared on the opposite sidewalk, accompanied by a young man with an intelligent face.

The commissioner was short and short-handed, and did not seem to have fully awakened yet.

-Accident, murder, suicide? What's your opinion, Inspector White?

"It is possible that it is a murder. Of a suicide, perhaps, although the motive is not too clear.

"To me it is a minor case," said the commissioner laconically. Did you know the dead man?

-Yes, his name was Bascrop. "Bachelor and quite wealthy, he lived like a hermit," replied White, who was trying to adopt the dry tone of his implacable superior.

"Did he live in this house?"

-Of course not, since it is about to be rented.

"If so, what was he doing in it?"

"This property belonged to him.

"Ah! Well, it will be a minor survey, Inspector White. I don't think it will take up much of his time.

When the jury had ruled out the possibility of murder, White resumed the investigation on his own. In fact, nothing allowed us to exclude the possibility that it was a crime.

The young police officer had been particularly impressed by the expression of indescribable anguish that had been preserved, in death, on the face of the unsociable Bascrop.

He had entered the empty house, climbed the stairs to the third floor, and finally entered the mysterious room, the window of which had been left open. As he passed, he had observed that all the rooms were completely devoid of furniture. In it, however, there were several miserable-looking objects: a rickety chair and a white wooden table. On the latter stood a candle, which a draught of air must have extinguished, shortly after the drama.

A layer of dust covered the table, which was only clean in three places. In fact, the powder bore the marks of two small circles and a completely regular rectangle. White didn't have to think long to figure out the cause.

"Bascrop," he said to himself, "sat down to read by candlelight. In the place of that rectangle the book was to be found; As for the two circles, they were undoubtedly formed by the elbows of the deceased. But where is the book in question? No one but myself has entered this house, after the death of the owner. Therefore, the unfortunate man surely had it in his hand at the moment of his fall.

White continued his reasoning. On the one hand, the street ended in Cornhill, indeed; but, at the other extreme, he ended up in a labyrinth of alleys of very bad reputation. On most of the doors could be read this inscription traced in chalk: "Call at four."

A night watchman had to live in the vicinity, and it was possible that this man knew something.

The night watchman was a dirty, loathsome old man who smelled of alcohol a mile away, and who greeted White with obvious displeasure.

-I know nothing, absolutely nothing. I was told that a man tired of life jumped from the third floor. These are things that happen.

-Let's go! White said dryly. Give me the book you found near the corpse, if you don't want to get involved in a murder.

"Finding is not stealing," the old man sneered. And, on the other hand, I was not there.

"Be careful! White threatened. That book may be the beginning of a rope that ends around his neck...

The old man hesitated for a few moments, and at last murmured, reluctantly:

"Well, that book might be worth a shilling.

"Here is your shilling!"

That was how White got into possession of the book he was looking for.

* * *

"A book of magic, and dating from the sixteenth century!" The inspector growled. At that time, the executioners did not stop burning this kind of work, and they did it perfectly.

He began to leaf through it slowly. A page folded at one end caught his attention. He began to read with growing interest. When he had finished, his face had a grave expression.

"Why shouldn't I try it too?" he murmured.

A little before midnight he went to the deserted street, pushed open the door of the sinister mansion, and climbed the stairs in the darkness.

The darkness was not absolute: a full moon swept across the sky with its cold rays and sent enough light through the dusty panes of the windows.

Arriving at the drama room, White lit the candle, took Bascrop's place, and opened the book to the page previously indicated. It read:

"Light the candle at a quarter to twelve at night and read the formula aloud."

It was a prose text, very obscure, of which the inspector understood nothing. But when he had finished reading and coughed lightly to clear his throat, he heard the clock of a steeple strike the twelve fateful strokes.

White raised his head and uttered a frightful cry of horror.

* * *

White has never been able to describe precisely what he saw at that moment. Today, he still doubts that he has really seen anything. However, he had experienced the sensation of seeing a gloomy and threatening being advancing towards him, which forced him to retreat towards the window.

Unspeakable fear flooded his heart. He thought that he had to open that window, that he had to continue to retreat, and that finally he would throw himself into the street to crash against the pavement, three stories below. An invisible force impelled him to do so.

His will left him, he was perfectly aware of it. But a kind of instinct – that of the policeman who has to fight for his life – remained awake in him. A superhuman effort allowed him to seize his revolver. Drawing on all the strength he still had at his disposal, he managed to point the gun at the mysterious shadow and pull the trigger.

A dry detonation tore through the silence of the night, and the candle was blown to pieces.

White lost consciousness.

* * *

The doctor who was at the bedside when he woke up, shook his head, smiling:

"Well, my friend! he exclaimed. I had never heard that the devil could be struck down by means of a single revolver. And yet, that's what you did.

"The devil! The inspector stammered.

"My young friend, if you had not reached the sail with that shot, there is no doubt that your end would have been the same as that of the unfortunate Bascrop. Since the knot of the mystery was the candle, precisely. Its antiquity dates back at least four centuries, and it was made with a wax soaked in some terrible volatile matter, the formula of which was possessed by the sorcerers of the time. The length of the magical text to be read was calculated in such a way that the candle would have to burn for a quarter of an hour, which is more than enough for an entire room to be filled with a dangerous gas, destined to poison the human brain and awaken in the victim the haunting idea of suicide. I confess that this is nothing more than a guess, although I don't think it is very far from reality.

White had no desire to engage in a discussion on the subject. On the other hand, what other hypothesis could he have made? Unless... No, it was preferable not to think about that matter any more.

 

END

 

The Monkey’s paw

 

 

I.

Without, the night was cold and wet, but in the small parlour of Laburnam Villa the blinds were drawn and the fire burned brightly.  Father and son were at chess, the former, who possessed ideas about the game involving radical changes, putting his king into such sharp and unnecessary perils that it even provoked comment from the white-haired old lady knitting placidly by the fire.

“Hark at the wind,” said Mr. White, who, having seen a fatal mistake after it was too late, was amiably desirous of preventing his son from seeing it.

“I’m listening,” said the latter, grimly surveying the board as he stretched out his hand.  “Check.”

“I should hardly think that he’d come to-night,” said his father, with his hand poised over the board.

“Mate,” replied the son.

“That’s the worst of living so far out,” bawled Mr. White, with sudden and unlooked-for violence; “of all the beastly, slushy, out-of-the-way places to live in, this is the worst.  Pathway’s a bog, and the road’s a torrent.  I don’t know what people are thinking about.  I suppose because only two houses in the road are let, they think it doesn’t matter.”

“Never mind, dear,” said his wife, soothingly; “perhaps you’ll win the next one.”

Mr. White looked up sharply, just in time to intercept a knowing glance between mother and son.  The words died away on his lips, and he hid a guilty grin in his thin grey beard.

“There he is,” said Herbert White, as the gate banged to loudly and heavy footsteps came toward the door.

The old man rose with hospitable haste, and opening the door, was heard condoling with the new arrival.  The new arrival also condoled with himself, so that Mrs. White said, “Tut, tut!” and coughed gently as her husband entered the room, followed by a tall, burly man, beady of eye and rubicund of visage.

“Sergeant-Major Morris,” he said, introducing him.

The sergeant-major shook hands, and taking the proffered seat by the fire, watched contentedly while his host got out whiskey and tumblers and stood a small copper kettle on the fire.

At the third glass his eyes got brighter, and he began to talk, the little family circle regarding with eager interest this visitor from distant parts, as he squared his broad shoulders in the chair and spoke of wild scenes and doughty deeds; of wars and plagues and strange peoples.

“Twenty-one years of it,” said Mr. White, nodding at his wife and son.  “When he went away he was a slip of a youth in the warehouse.  Now look at him.”

“He don’t look to have taken much harm,” said Mrs. White, politely.

“I’d like to go to India myself,” said the old man, “just to look round a bit, you know.”

“Better where you are,” said the sergeant-major, shaking his head.  He put down the empty glass, and sighing softly, shook it again.

“I should like to see those old temples and fakirs and jugglers,” said the old man.  “What was that you started telling me the other day about a monkey’s paw or something, Morris?”

 “Nothing,” said the soldier, hastily.  “Leastways nothing worth hearing.”

“Monkey’s paw?” said Mrs. White, curiously.

“Well, it’s just a bit of what you might call magic, perhaps,” said the sergeant-major, offhandedly.

His three listeners leaned forward eagerly.  The visitor absent-mindedly put his empty glass to his lips and then set it down again.  His host filled it for him.

“To look at,” said the sergeant-major, fumbling in his pocket, “it’s just an ordinary little paw, dried to a mummy.”

He took something out of his pocket and proffered it.  Mrs. White drew back with a grimace, but her son, taking it, examined it curiously.

“And what is there special about it?” inquired Mr. White as he took it from his son, and having examined it, placed it upon the table.

“It had a spell put on it by an old fakir,” said the sergeant-major, “a very holy man.  He wanted to show that fate ruled people’s lives, and that those who interfered with it did so to their sorrow.  He put a spell on it so that three separate men could each have three wishes from it.”

His manner was so impressive that his hearers were conscious that their light laughter jarred somewhat.

“Well, why don’t you have three, sir?” said Herbert White, cleverly.

The soldier regarded him in the way that middle age is wont to regard presumptuous youth.  “I have,” he said, quietly, and his blotchy face whitened.

“And did you really have the three wishes granted?” asked Mrs. White.

“I did,” said the sergeant-major, and his glass tapped against his strong teeth.

“And has anybody else wished?” persisted the old lady.

“The first man had his three wishes.  Yes,” was the reply; “I don’t know what the first two were, but the third was for death.  That’s how I got the paw.”

His tones were so grave that a hush fell upon the group.

“If you’ve had your three wishes, it’s no good to you now, then, Morris,” said the old man at last.  “What do you keep it for?”

The soldier shook his head.  “Fancy, I suppose,” he said, slowly.  “I did have some idea of selling it, but I don’t think I will.  It has caused enough mischief already.  Besides, people won’t buy.  They think it’s a fairy tale; some of them, and those who do think anything of it want to try it first and pay me afterward.”

“If you could have another three wishes,” said the old man, eyeing him keenly, “would you have them?”

“I don’t know,” said the other.  “I don’t know.”

He took the paw, and dangling it between his forefinger and thumb, suddenly threw it upon the fire.  White, with a slight cry, stooped down and snatched it off.

“Better let it burn,” said the soldier, solemnly.

 “If you don’t want it, Morris,” said the other, “give it to me.”

“I won’t,” said his friend, doggedly.  “I threw it on the fire.  If you keep it, don’t blame me for what happens.  Pitch it on the fire again like a sensible man.”

The other shook his head and examined his new possession closely.  “How do you do it?” he inquired.

“Hold it up in your right hand and wish aloud,” said the sergeant-major, “but I warn you of the consequences.”

“Sounds like the Arabian Nights,” said Mrs. White, as she rose and began to set the supper.  “Don’t you think you might wish for four pairs of hands for me?”

Her husband drew the talisman from pocket, and then all three burst into laughter as the sergeant-major, with a look of alarm on his face, caught him by the arm.

“If you must wish,” he said, gruffly, “wish for something sensible.”

Mr. White dropped it back in his pocket, and placing chairs, motioned his friend to the table.  In the business of supper the talisman was partly forgotten, and afterward the three sat listening in an enthralled fashion to a second instalment of the soldier’s adventures in India.

“If the tale about the monkey’s paw is not more truthful than those he has been telling us,” said Herbert, as the door closed behind their guest, just in time for him to catch the last train, “we sha’nt make much out of it.”

“Did you give him anything for it, father?” inquired Mrs. White, regarding her husband closely.

“A trifle,” said he, colouring slightly.  “He didn’t want it, but I made him take it.  And he pressed me again to throw it away.”

“Likely,” said Herbert, with pretended horror.  “Why, we’re going to be rich, and famous and happy.  Wish to be an emperor, father, to begin with; then you can’t be henpecked.”

He darted round the table, pursued by the maligned Mrs. White armed with an antimacassar.

Mr. White took the paw from his pocket and eyed it dubiously.  “I don’t know what to wish for, and that’s a fact,” he said, slowly.  “It seems to me I’ve got all I want.”

“If you only cleared the house, you’d be quite happy, wouldn’t you?” said Herbert, with his hand on his shoulder.  “Well, wish for two hundred pounds, then; that ’ll just do it.”

His father, smiling shamefacedly at his own credulity, held up the talisman, as his son, with a solemn face, somewhat marred by a wink at his mother, sat down at the piano and struck a few impressive chords.

“I wish for two hundred pounds,” said the old man distinctly.

A fine crash from the piano greeted the words, interrupted by a shuddering cry from the old man.  His wife and son ran toward him.

“It moved,” he cried, with a glance of disgust at the object as it lay on the floor.

“As I wished, it twisted in my hand like a snake.”

“Well, I don’t see the money,” said his son as he picked it up and placed it on the table, “and I bet I never shall.”

 “It must have been your fancy, father,” said his wife, regarding him anxiously.

He shook his head.  “Never mind, though; there’s no harm done, but it gave me a shock all the same.”

They sat down by the fire again while the two men finished their pipes.  Outside, the wind was higher than ever, and the old man started nervously at the sound of a door banging upstairs.  A silence unusual and depressing settled upon all three, which lasted until the old couple rose to retire for the night.

“I expect you’ll find the cash tied up in a big bag in the middle of your bed,” said Herbert, as he bade them good-night, “and something horrible squatting up on top of the wardrobe watching you as you pocket your ill-gotten gains.”

He sat alone in the darkness, gazing at the dying fire, and seeing faces in it.  The last face was so horrible and so simian that he gazed at it in amazement.’  It got so vivid that, with a little uneasy laugh, he felt on the table for a glass containing a little water to throw over it.  His hand grasped the monkey’s paw, and with a little shiver he wiped his hand on his coat and went up to bed.

II.

In the brightness of the wintry sun next morning as it streamed over the breakfast table he laughed at his fears.  There was an air of prosaic wholesomeness about the room which it had lacked on the previous night, and the dirty, shrivelled little paw was pitched on the sideboard with a carelessness which betokened no great belief in its virtues.

“I suppose all old soldiers are the same,” said Mrs. White.  “The idea of our listening to such nonsense!  How could wishes be granted in these days?  And if they could, how could two hundred pounds hurt you, father?”

“Might drop on his head from the sky,” said the frivolous Herbert.

“Morris said the things happened so naturally,” said’ his father, “that you might if you so wished attribute it to coincidence.”

“Well, don’t break into the money before I come back,” said Herbert as he rose from the table.  “I’m afraid it’ll turn you into a mean, avaricious man, and we shall have to disown you.”

His mother laughed, and following him to the door, watched him down the road; and returning to the breakfast table, was very happy at the expense of her husband’s credulity.  All of which did not prevent her from scurrying to the door at the postman’s knock, nor prevent her from referring somewhat shortly to retired sergeant-majors of bibulous habits when she found that the post brought a tailor’s bill.

“Herbert will have some more of his funny remarks, I expect, when he comes home,” she said, as they sat at dinner.

“I dare say,” said Mr. White, pouring himself out some beer; “but for all that, the thing moved in my hand; that I’ll swear to.”

“You thought it did,” said the old lady soothingly.

 “I say it did,” replied the other.  “There was no thought about it; I had just——­ What’s the matter?”

His wife made no reply.  She was watching the mysterious movements of a man outside, who, peering in an undecided fashion at the house, appeared to be trying to make up his mind to enter.  In mental connection with the two hundred pounds, she noticed that the stranger was well dressed, and wore a silk hat of glossy newness.  Three times he paused at the gate, and then walked on again.  The fourth time he stood with his hand upon it, and then with sudden resolution flung it open and walked up the path.  Mrs. White at the same moment placed her hands behind her, and hurriedly unfastening the strings of her apron, put that useful article of apparel beneath the cushion of her chair.

She brought the stranger, who seemed ill at ease, into the room.  He gazed at her furtively, and listened in a preoccupied fashion as the old lady apologized for the appearance of the room, and her husband’s coat, a garment which he usually reserved for the garden.  She then waited as patiently as her sex would permit, for him to broach his business, but he was at first strangely silent.

“I—­was asked to call,” he said at last, and stooped and picked a piece of cotton from his trousers.  “I come from ‘Maw and Meggins.’”

The old lady started.  “Is anything the matter?” she asked, breathlessly.  “Has anything happened to Herbert?  What is it?  What is it?”

Her husband interposed.  “There, there, mother,” he said, hastily.  “Sit down, and don’t jump to conclusions.  You’ve not brought bad news, I’m sure, sir;” and he eyed the other wistfully.

“I’m sorry—­” began the visitor.

“Is he hurt?” demanded the mother, wildly.

The visitor bowed in assent.  “Badly hurt,” he said, quietly, “but he is not in any pain.”

“Oh, thank God!” said the old woman, clasping her hands.  “Thank God for that!  Thank—­”

She broke off suddenly as the sinister meaning of the assurance dawned upon her and she saw the awful confirmation of her fears in the other’s perverted face.  She caught her breath, and turning to her slower-witted husband, laid her trembling old hand upon his.  There was a long silence.

“He was caught in the machinery,” said the visitor at length in a low voice.

“Caught in the machinery,” repeated Mr. White, in a dazed fashion, “yes.”

He sat staring blankly out at the window, and taking his wife’s hand between his own, pressed it as he had been wont to do in their old courting-days nearly forty years before.

“He was the only one left to us,” he said, turning gently to the visitor.  “It is hard.”

The other coughed, and rising, walked slowly to the window.  “The firm wished me to convey their sincere sympathy with you in your great loss,” he said, without looking round.  “I beg that you will understand I am only their servant and merely obeying orders.”

There was no reply; the old woman’s face was white, her eyes staring, and her breath inaudible; on the husband’s face was a look such as his friend the sergeant might have carried into his first action.

 “I was to say that Maw and Meggins disclaim all responsibility,” continued the other.  “They admit no liability at all, but in consideration of your son’s services, they wish to present you with a certain sum as compensation.”

Mr. White dropped his wife’s hand, and rising to his feet, gazed with a look of horror at his visitor.  His dry lips shaped the words, “How much?”

“Two hundred pounds,” was the answer.

Unconscious of his wife’s shriek, the old man smiled faintly, put out his hands like a sightless man, and dropped, a senseless heap, to the floor.

III.

In the huge new cemetery, some two miles distant, the old people buried their dead, and came back to a house steeped in shadow and silence.  It was all over so quickly that at first they could hardly realize it, and remained in a state of expectation as though of something else to happen —­something else which was to lighten this load, too heavy for old hearts to bear.

But the days passed, and expectation gave place to resignation—­the hopeless resignation of the old, sometimes miscalled, apathy.  Sometimes they hardly exchanged a word, for now they had nothing to talk about, and their days were long to weariness.

It was about a week after that the old man, waking suddenly in the night, stretched out his hand and found himself alone.  The room was in darkness, and the sound of subdued weeping came from the window.  He raised himself in bed and listened.

“Come back,” he said, tenderly.  “You will be cold.”

“It is colder for my son,” said the old woman, and wept afresh.

The sound of her sobs died away on his ears.  The bed was warm, and his eyes heavy with sleep.  He dozed fitfully, and then slept until a sudden wild cry from his wife awoke him with a start.

“The paw!” she cried wildly.  “The monkey’s paw!”

He started up in alarm.  “Where?  Where is it?  What’s the matter?”

She came stumbling across the room toward him.  “I want it,” she said, quietly.  “You’ve not destroyed it?”

“It’s in the parlour, on the bracket,” he replied, marvelling.  “Why?”

She cried and laughed together, and bending over, kissed his cheek.

“I only just thought of it,” she said, hysterically.  “Why didn’t I think of it before?  Why didn’t you think of it?”

“Think of what?” he questioned.

“The other two wishes,” she replied, rapidly.

“We’ve only had one.”

“Was not that enough?” he demanded, fiercely.

“No,” she cried, triumphantly; “we’ll have one more.  Go down and get it quickly, and wish our boy alive again.”

The man sat up in bed and flung the bedclothes from his quaking limbs.  “Good God, you are mad!” he cried, aghast.

 “Get it,” she panted; “get it quickly, and wish—­Oh, my boy, my boy!”

Her husband struck a match and lit the candle.  “Get back to bed,” he said, unsteadily.  “You don’t know what you are saying.”

“We had the first wish granted,” said the old woman, feverishly; “why not the second?”

“A coincidence,” stammered the old man.

“Go and get it and wish,” cried his wife, quivering with excitement.

The old man turned and regarded her, and his voice shook.  “He has been dead ten days, and besides he—­I would not tell you else, but—­I could only recognize him by his clothing.  If he was too terrible for you to see then, how now?”

“Bring him back,” cried the old woman, and dragged him toward the door.  “Do you think I fear the child I have nursed?”

He went down in the darkness, and felt his way to the parlour, and then to the mantelpiece.  The talisman was in its place, and a horrible fear that the unspoken wish might bring his mutilated son before him ere he could escape from the room seized upon him, and he caught his breath as he found that he had lost the direction of the door.  His brow cold with sweat, he felt his way round the table, and groped along the wall until he found himself in the small passage with the unwholesome thing in his hand.

Even his wife’s face seemed changed as he entered the room.  It was white and expectant, and to his fears seemed to have an unnatural look upon it.  He was afraid of her.

“Wish!” she cried, in a strong voice.

“It is foolish and wicked,” he faltered.

“Wish!” repeated his wife.

He raised his hand.  “I wish my son alive again.”

The talisman fell to the floor, and he regarded it fearfully.  Then he sank trembling into a chair as the old woman, with burning eyes, walked to the window and raised the blind.

He sat until he was chilled with the cold, glancing occasionally at the figure of the old woman peering through the window.  The candle-end, which had burned below the rim of the china candlestick, was throwing pulsating shadows on the ceiling and walls, until, with a flicker larger than the rest, it expired.  The old man, with an unspeakable sense of relief at the failure of the talisman, crept back to his bed, and a minute or two afterward the old woman came silently and apathetically beside him.

Neither spoke, but lay silently listening to the ticking of the clock.  A stair creaked, and a squeaky mouse scurried noisily through the wall.  The darkness was oppressive, and after lying for some time screwing up his courage, he took the box of matches, and striking one, went downstairs for a candle.

At the foot of the stairs the match went out, and he paused to strike another; and at the same moment a knock, so quiet and stealthy as to be scarcely audible, sounded on the front door.

The matches fell from his hand and spilled in the passage.  He stood motionless, his breath suspended until the knock was repeated.  Then he turned and fled swiftly back to his room, and closed the door behind him.  A third knock sounded through the house.

 

“What’s that?” cried the old woman, starting up.

“A rat,” said the old man in shaking tones—­“a rat.  It passed me on the stairs.”

His wife sat up in bed listening.  A loud knock resounded through the house.

“It’s Herbert!” she screamed.  “It’s Herbert!”

She ran to the door, but her husband was before her, and catching her by the arm, held her tightly.

“What are you going to do?” he whispered hoarsely.

“It’s my boy; it’s Herbert!” she cried, struggling mechanically.  “I forgot it was two miles away.  What are you holding me for?  Let go.  I must open the door.

“For God’s sake don’t let it in,” cried the old man, trembling.

“You’re afraid of your own son,” she cried, struggling.  “Let me go.  I’m coming, Herbert; I’m coming.”

There was another knock, and another.  The old woman with a sudden wrench broke free and ran from the room.  Her husband followed to the landing, and called after her appealingly as she hurried downstairs.  He heard the chain rattle back and the bottom bolt drawn slowly and stiffly from the socket.  Then the old woman’s voice, strained and panting.

“The bolt,” she cried, loudly.  “Come down.  I can’t reach it.”

But her husband was on his hands and knees groping wildly on the floor in search of the paw.  If he could only find it before the thing outside got in.  A perfect fusillade of knocks reverberated through the house, and he heard the scraping of a chair as his wife put it down in the passage against the door.  He heard the creaking of the bolt as it came slowly back, and at the same moment he found the monkey’s paw, and frantically breathed his third and last wish.

The knocking ceased suddenly, although the echoes of it were still in the house.  He heard the chair drawn back, and the door opened.  A cold wind rushed up the staircase, and a long loud wail of disappointment and misery from his wife gave him courage to run down to her side, and then to the gate beyond.  The street lamp flickering opposite shone on a quiet and deserted road.

The Go Big Red Fan

 

The Go Big Red Fan was John Wesley Fenrick's, and when
ventilating his System it throbbed and crept along the floor with a
rhythmic chunka-chunka-chunk. Fenrick was a Business major and a
senior. From the talk of my wingmates I gathered that he was smart,
yet crazy, which helped. The description weird was also used, but
admiringly. His roomie, Ephraim Klein of New Jersey, was in
Philosophy. Worse, he was found to be smart and weird and crazy,
intolerably so on all these counts and several others besides.
As for the Fan, it was old and square, with a heavy rounded
design suitable for the Tulsa duplex window that had been its station
before John Wesley Fenrick had brought It out to the Big U with
him. Running up one sky-blue side was a Go Big Red bumper
sticker. When Fenrick ran his System—that is, bludgeoned the rest
of the wing with a record or tape—he used the Fan to blow air over
the back of the component rack to prevent the electronics from
melting down. Fenrick was tall and spindly, with a turkey-like head
and neck, and all of us in the east corridor of the south wing of the
seventh floor of E Tower knew him for three things: his seventies
rock-'n'-roll souvenir collection, his trove of preposterous electrical
appliances, and his laugh—a screaming hysterical cackle that would
ricochet down the long shiny cinderbiock corridor whenever
something grotesque flashed across the 45-Inch screen of his Video
System or he did something especially humiliating to Ephraim Klein.
Klein was a subdued, intellectual type. He reacted to his
victories with a contented smirk, and this quietness gave some
residents of EO7S East the impression that Fenrick, a roomie-buster
with many a notch on his keychain, had already cornered the young
sage. In fact, Klein beat Fenrick at a rate of perhaps sixty percent, or
whenever he could reduce the conflict to a rational discussion. He
felt that he should be capable of better against a power-punker
Business major, but he was not taking into account the animal
shrewdness that enabled Fenrick to land lucrative oil-company
internships to pay for the modernization of his System.
Inveterate and cynical audio nuts, common at the Big U, would
walk into their room and freeze solid, such was Fenrick's System, its
skyscraping rack of obscure black slabs with no lights, knobs or
switches, the 600-watt Black Hole Hyperspace Energy Nexus Field
Amp that sat alone like the Kaaba, the shielded coaxial cables
thrown out across the room to the six speaker stacks that made it
look like an enormous sonic slime mold in spawn. Klein himself
knew a few things about stereos, having a system that could
reproduce Bach about as well as the American Megaversity
Chamber Orchestra, and it galled him.
To begin with there was the music. That was bad enough, but
Klein had associated with musical Mau Maus since junior high, and
could inure himself to it in the same way that he kept himself from
jumping up and shouting back at television commercials. It was the
Go Big Red Fan that really got to him. "Okay, okay, let's just accept
as a given that your music is worth playing. Now, even assuming
that, why spend six thousand dollars on a perfect system with no
extraneous noises in it, and then, then, cool it with a noisy fan that
couldn't fetch six bucks at a fire sale?" Still, Fenrick would ignore
him. "I mean, you amaze me sometimes. You can't think at all, can
you? I mean, you're not even a sentient being, if you look at it
strictly."
When Klein said something like this (I heard the above one
night when going down to the bathroom), Fenrick would look up at
him from his Business textbook, peering over the wall of bright, sto
record-store displays he had erected along the room's centerline;
because his glasses had slipped down his long thin nose, he would
wrinkle it, forcing the lenses toward the desired altitude,
involuntarily baring his canine teeth in the process and causing the
stiff spiky hair atop his head to shift around as though inhabited by a
band of panicked rats.
"You don't understand real meaning," he'd say. "You don't
have a monopsony on meaning. I don't get meaning from books. My
meaning means what it means to me." He would say this, or
something equally twisted, and watch Klein for a reaction. After he
had done it a few times, though, Klein figured out that his roomie
was merely trying to get him all bent out of shape—to freak his
brain, as it were— and so he would drop it, denying Fenrick the
chance to shriek his vicious laugh and tell the wing that he had
scored again.
Klein was also annoyed by the fact that Fenrick, smoking loads
of parsley-spiked dope while playing his bad music, would forget to
keep an eye on the Go Big Red Fan. Klein, sitting with his back to
the stereo, wads of foam packed in his ears, would abruptly feel the
Fan chunk into the back of his chair, and as he spazzed out in
hysterical surprise it would sit there maliciously grinding away and
transmitting chunka-chunka-chunks into his pelvis like muffled
laughs.
If it was not clear which of them had air rights, they would wage
sonic wars.
They both got out of class at 3:30. Each would spend twenty
minutes dashing through the labyrinthine ways of the Monoplex,
pounding fruitlessly on elevator buttons and bounding up steps three
at a time, palpitating at the thought of having to listen to his
roommate's music until at least midnight. Often as not, one would
explode from the elevator on EO7S, veer around to the corridor, and
with disgust feel the other's tunes pulsing victoriously through the
floor. Sometimes, though, they would arrive simultaneously and
power up their Systems together. The first time they tried this, about
halfway through September, the room's circuit breaker shut down.
They sat in darkness and silence for above half an hour, each
knowing that if he left his stereo to turn the power back on, the other
would have his going full blast by the time he returned. This impasse
was concluded by a simultaneous two-tower fire drill that kept both
out of the room for three hours.
Subsequently John Wesley Fenrick ran a fifty-foot tn-lead
extension cord down the hallway and into the Social Lounge, and
plugged his System into that. This meant that he could now shut
down Klein's stereo simply by turning on his burger-maker, donut-
maker, blow-dryer and bun-warmer simultaneously, shutting off the
room's circuit breaker. But Klein was only three feet from the
extension cord and thus could easily shut Fenrick down with a tug.
So these tactics were not resorted to; the duelists preferred, against
all reason, to wait each other out.
Klein used organ music, usually lush garbled Romantic
masterpieces or what he called Atomic Bach. Fenrick had the edge in
system power, but most of that year's music was not as dense as,
say, Heavy Metal had been in its prime, and so this difference was
usually erased by the thinness of his ammunition. This did not mean,
however, that we had any trouble hearing him.
The Systems would trade salvos as the volume controls were
brought up as high as they could go, the screaming-guitars-from-Hell
power chords on one side matched by the subterranean grease-gun
blasts of the 32-foot reed stops on the other. As both recordings piled
into the thick of things, the combatants would turn to their long thin
frequency equalizers and shove all channels up to full blast like Mr.
Spock beaming a live antimatter bomb into Deep Space. Finally the
filters would be thrown off and the loudness switches on, and the
speakers would distort and crackle with strain as huge wattages
pulsed through their magnet coils. Sometimes Klein would use
Bach's "Passacaglia and Fugue in C Minor," and at the end of each
phrase the bass line would plunge back down home to that old low
C, and Klein's sub-woofers would pick up the temblor of the 64-foot
pipes and magnify it until he could watch the naked speaker cones
thrash away at in the air. This particular note happened to be the
natural resonating frequency of the main hallways, which were cut
into 64-foot, 3-inch halves by the fire doors (Klein and I measured
one while drunk), and therefore the resonant frequency of every
other hail in every other wing of all the towers of the Plex, and so at
these moments everything in the world would vibrate at sixteen
cycles per second; beds would tremble, large objects would float off
the edges of tables, and tables and chairs themselves would buzz
around the rooms of their own volition. The occasional wandering
bat who might be in the hall would take off in random flight, his
sensors jammed by the noise, beating his wings against the standing
waves in the corridor in an effort to escape.
The Resident Assistant, or RA, was a reclusive Social Work
major who, intuitively knowing she was never going to get a job,
spent her time locked in her little room testing perfumes and
watching MTV under a set of headphones. She could not possibly
help.
That made it my responsibility. I lived on EO7S that year as
faculty-in-residence. I had just obtained my Ph.D. from Ohio State in
an interdisciplinary field called Remote Sensing, and was a brand-
shiny-new associate professor at the Big U.
Now, at the little southern black college where I went to school,
we had no megadorms. We were cool at the right times and
academic at the right times and we had neither Kleins nor Fenricks.
Boston University, where I did my Master's, had pulled through its
crisis when I got there; most students had no time for sonic war, and
the rest vented their humors in the city, not in the dorms. Ohio State
was nicely spread out, and I lived in an apartment complex where
noisy shit-for-brains undergrads were even less welcome than
tweedy black bachelors. I just did not know what to make of Klein
and Fenrick; I did not handle them well at all. As a matter of fact,
most of my time at the Big U was spent observing and talking, and
very little doing, and I may bear some of the blame.
This is a history, in that it intends to describe what happened
and suggest why. It is a work of the imagination in that by writing it
I hope to purge the Big U from my system, and with it all my
bitterness and contempt. I may have fooled around with a few facts.
But I served as witness until as close to the end as anyone could
have, and I knew enough of the major actors to learn about what I
didn't witness, and so there is not so much art in this as to make it
irrelevant. What you are about to read is not an aberration: it can
happen in your local university too. The Big U, simply, was a few
years ahead of the rest.

Aladdin and the Wonderful Lamp

 

There once lived a poor tailor, who had a son called Aladdin,

a careless, idle boy who would do nothing but play all day long in

the streets with little idle boys like himself.  This so grieved the

father that he died; yet, in spite of his mother's tears and prayers,

Aladdin did not mend his ways.  One day, when he was playing in the

streets as usual, a stranger asked him his age, and if he was not

the son of Mustapha the tailor.  "I am, sir," replied Aladdin;

"but he died a long while ago."  On this the stranger, who was

a famous African magician, fell on his neck and kissed him saying:

"I am your uncle, and knew you from your likeness to my brother.

Go to your mother and tell her I am coming."  Aladdin ran home

and told his mother of his newly found uncle.  "Indeed, child," she

said, "your father had a brother, but I always thought he was dead."

However, she prepared supper, and bade Aladdin seek his uncle,

who came laden with wine and fruit.  He fell down and kissed the

place where Mustapha used to sit, bidding Aladdin's mother not to

be surprised at not having seen him before, as he had been forty

years out of the country.  He then turned to Aladdin, and asked

him his trade, at which the boy hung his head, while his mother

burst into tears.  On learning that Aladdin was idle and would

learn no trade, he offered to take a shop for him and stock it with

merchandise.  Next day he bought Aladdin a fine suit of clothes and

took him all over the city, showing him the sights, and brought him home

at nightfall to his mother, who was overjoyed to see her son so fine.

 

Next day the magician led Aladdin into some beautiful gardens a

long way outside the city gates.  They sat down by a fountain and

the magician pulled a cake from his girdle, which he divided

between them.  Then they journeyed onwards till they almost reached

the mountains.  Aladdin was so tired that he begged to go back,

but the magician beguiled him with pleasant stories and lead him

on in spite of himself.  At last they came to two mountains

divided by a narrow valley.  "We will go no farther," said

his uncle.  "I will show you something wonderful; only do you

gather up sticks while I kindle a fire."  When it was lit the

magician threw on it a powder he had about him, at the same time

saying some magical words.  The earth trembled a little in front

of them, disclosing a square flat stone with a brass ring in the

middle to raise it by.  Aladdin tried to run away, but the

magician caught him and gave him a blow that knocked him down.

"What have I done, uncle?" he said piteously; whereupon the

magician said more kindly:  "Fear nothing, but obey me.  Beneath

this stone lies a treasure which is to be yours, and no one else

may touch it, so you must to exactly as I tell you."  At the word

treasure Aladdin forgot his fears, and grasped the ring as he was

told, saying the names of his father and grandfather.  The stone

came up quite easily, and some steps appeared.  "Go down," said

the magician; "at the foot of those steps you will find an open

door leading into three large halls.  Tuck up your gown and go

through them without touching anything, or you will die instantly.

These halls lead into a garden of fine fruit trees.  Walk on till

you come to niche in a terrace where stands a lighted lamp.  Pour

out the oil it contains, and bring it me."  He drew a ring from

his finger and gave it to Aladdin, bidding him prosper.

 

Aladdin found everything as the magician had said, gathered some

fruit off the trees, and, having got the lamp, arrived at the

mouth of the cave.  The magician cried out in a great hurry:

"Make haste and give me the lamp."  This Aladdin refused to do until

he was out of the cave.  The magician flew into a terrible passion,

and throwing some more powder on to the fire, he said something,

and the stone rolled back into its place.

 

The man left the country, which plainly showed that he was no

uncle of Aladdin's but a cunning magician, who had read in his

magic books of a wonderful lamp, which would make him the most

powerful man in the world.  Though he alone knew where to find it,

he could only receive it from the hand of another.  He had picked

out the foolish Aladdin for this purpose, intending to get the

lamp and kill him afterwards.

 

For two days Aladdin remained in the dark, crying and lamenting.

At last he clasped his hands in prayer, and in so doing rubbed

the ring, which the magician had forgotten to take from him.

Immediately an enormous and frightful genie rose out of the earth,

saying:  "What wouldst thou with me?  I am the Slave of the Ring,

and will obey thee in all things."  Aladdin fearlessly replied,

"Deliver me from this place!" whereupon the earth opened, and he

found himself outside.  As soon as his eyes could bear the light

he went home, but fainted on the threshold.  When he came to

himself he told his mother what had passed, and showed her the

lamp and the fruits he had gathered in the garden, which were in

reality precious stones.  He then asked for some food.  "Alas!

child," she said, "I have nothing in the house, but I have spun a

little cotton and will go sell it."  Aladdin bade her keep her

cotton, for he would sell the lamp instead.  As it was very dirty,

she began to rub it, that it might fetch a higher price.

Instantly a hideous genie appeared, and asked what she would have.

She fainted away, but Aladdin, snatching the lamp, said boldly:

"Fetch me something to eat!"  The genie returned with a silver

bowl, twelve silver plates containing rich meats, two silver cups,

and two bottles of wine.  Aladdin's mother, when she came to herself,

said:  "Whence comes this splendid feast?"  "Ask not, but eat,"

replied Aladdin.  So they sat at breakfast till it was dinner-time,

and Aladdin told his mother about the lamp.  She begged him to sell it,

and have nothing to do with devils.  "No," said Aladdin, "since chance

hath made us aware of its virtues, we will use it, and the ring likewise,

which I shall always wear on my finger."  When they had eaten all the

genie had brought, Aladdin sold one of the silver plates, and so on

until none were left.  He then had recourse to the genie, who gave him

another set of plates, and thus they lived many years.

 

One day Aladdin heard an order from the Sultan proclaimed that

everyone was to stay at home and close his shutters while the

Princess his daughter went to and from the bath.  Aladdin was

seized by a desire to see her face, which was very difficult,

as she always went veiled.  He hid himself behind the door of

the bath, and peeped through a chink.  The Princess lifted her veil

as she went in, and looked so beautiful that Aladdin fell in love

with her at first sight.  He went home so changed that his mother

was frightened.  He told her he loved the Princess so deeply he

could not live without her, and meant to ask her in marriage of

her father.  His mother, on hearing this, burst out laughing, but

Aladdin at last prevailed upon her to go before the Sultan and

carry his request.  She fetched a napkin and laid in it the magic

fruits from the enchanted garden, which sparkled and shone like

the most beautiful jewels.  She took these with her to please the

Sultan, and set out, trusting in the lamp.  The Grand Vizier and

the lords of council had just gone in as she entered the hall and

placed herself in front of the Sultan.  He, however, took no

notice of her.  She went every day for a week, and stood in the

same place.  When the council broke up on the sixth day the Sultan

said to his Vizier:  "I see a certain woman in the audience-chamber

every day carrying something in a napkin.  Call her next time,

that I may find out what she wants."  Next day, at a sign from

the vizier, she went up to the foot of the throne and remained

kneeling until the Sultan said to her:  "Rise, good woman, and

tell me what you want."  She hesitated, so the Sultan sent away

all but the Vizier, and bade her speak freely, promising to

forgive her beforehand for anything she might say.  She then told

him of her son's violent love for the Princess.  "I prayed him to

forget her," she said, "but in vain; he threatened to do some

desperate deed if I refused to go and ask your Majesty for the

hand of the Princess.  Now I pray you to forgive not me alone,

but my son Aladdin."  The Sultan asked her kindly what she had in

the napkin, whereupon she unfolded the jewels and presented them.

He was thunderstruck, and turning to the vizier, said:  "What

sayest thou?  Ought I not to bestow the Princess on one who

values her at such a price?"  The Vizier, who wanted her for his

own son, begged the Sultan to withhold her for three months, in

the course of which he hoped his son could contrive to make him a

richer present.  The Sultan granted this, and told Aladdin's

mother that, though he consented to the marriage, she must not

appear before him again for three months.

 

Aladdin waited patiently for nearly three months, but after two

had elapsed, his mother, going into the city to buy oil, found

everyone rejoicing, and asked what was going on.  "Do you not

know," was the answer, "that the son of the Grand Vizier is to

marry the Sultan's daughter tonight?"  Breathless she ran and told

Aladdin, who was overwhelmed at first, but presently bethought

him of the lamp.  He rubbed it and the genie appeared, saying:

"What is thy will?"  Aladdin replied:  "The Sultan, as thou knowest,

has broken his promise to me, and the vizier's son is to have

the Princess.  My command is that to-night you bring hither

the bride and bridegroom."  "Master, I obey," said the genie.

Aladdin then went to his chamber, where, sure enough, at

midnight the genie transported the bed containing the vizier's

son and the Princess.  "Take this new-married man," he said, "and

put him outside in the cold, and return at daybreak."  Whereupon

the genie took the vizier's son out of bed, leaving Aladdin with

the Princess.  "Fear nothing," Aladdin said to her; "you are my

wife, promised to me by your unjust father, and no harm will come

to you."  The Princess was too frightened to speak, and passed

the most miserable night of her life, while Aladdin lay down

beside her and slept soundly.  At the appointed hour the genie

fetched in the shivering bridegroom, laid him in his place,

and transported the bed back to the palace.

 

Presently the Sultan came to wish his daughter good-morning.

The unhappy Vizier's son jumped up and hid himself, while the

Princess would not say a word and was very sorrowful.  The Sultan

sent her mother to her, who said:  "How comes it, child, that you

will not speak to your father?  What has happened?"  The Princess

sighed deeply, and at last told her mother how, during the night,

the bed had been carried into some strange house, and what had

passed there. Her mother did not believe her in the least,

but bade her rise and consider it an idle dream.

 

The following night exactly the same thing happened, and next

morning, on the Princess's refusing to speak, the Sultan

threatened to cut off her head.  She then confessed all, bidding

him ask the Vizier's son if it were not so.  The Sultan told the

Vizier to ask his son, who owned the truth, adding that, dearly

as he loved the Princess, he had rather die than go through

another such fearful night, and wished to be separated from her.

His wish was granted, and there was an end of feasting and rejoicing.

 

When the three months were over, Aladdin sent his mother to

remind the Sultan of his promise.  She stood in the same place as

before, and the Sultan, who had forgotten Aladdin, at once

remembered him, and sent for her.  On seeing her poverty the

Sultan felt less inclined than ever to keep his word, and asked

his Vizier's advice, who counselled him to set so high a value on

the Princess that no man living would come up to it.  The Sultan

than turned to Aladdin's mother, saying:  "Good woman, a sultan

must remember his promises, and I will remember mine, but your

son must first send me forty basins of gold brimful of jewels,

carried by forty black slaves, led by as many white ones,

splendidly dressed.  Tell him that I await his answer."  The

mother of Aladdin bowed low and went home, thinking all was lost.

She gave Aladdin the message adding, "He may wait long enough for

your answer!"  "Not so long, mother, as you think," her son replied.

"I would do a great deal more than that for the Princess."

He summoned the genie, and in a few moments the eighty slaves arrived,

and filled up the small house and garden.  Aladdin made them to set

out to the palace, two by two, followed by his mother.  They were so

richly dressed, with such splendid jewels, that everyone crowded

to see them and the basins of gold they carried on their heads.

They entered the palace, and, after kneeling before the Sultan,

stood in a half-circle round the throne with their arms crossed,

while Aladdin's mother presented them to the Sultan.  He hesitated

no longer, but said:  "Good woman, return and tell your son that I

wait for him with open arms."  She lost no time in telling Aladdin,

bidding him make haste.  But Aladdin first called the genie.

"I want a scented bath," he said, "a richly embroidered habit,

a horse surpassing the Sultan's, and twenty slaves to attend me.

Besides this, six slaves, beautifully dressed, to wait on my mother;

and lastly, ten thousand pieces of gold in ten purses."  No sooner said

then done.  Aladdin mounted his horse and passed through the streets,

the slaves strewing gold as they went.  Those who had played with

him in his childhood knew him not, he had grown so handsome.

When the sultan saw him he came down from his throne, embraced him,

and led him into a hall where a feast was spread, intending

to marry him to the Princess that very day.  But Aladdin refused,

saying, "I must build a palace fit for her," and took his leave.

Once home, he said to the genie:  "Build me a palace of the finest

marble, set with jasper, agate, and other precious stones.  In the

middle you shall build me a large hall with a dome, its four walls

of massy gold and silver, each side having six windows, whose lattices,

all except one which is to be left unfinished, must be set with diamonds

and rubies.  There must be stables and horses and grooms and slaves;

go and see about it!"

 

The palace was finished the next day, and the genie carried him

there and showed him all his orders faithfully carried out, even

to the laying of a velvet carpet from Aladdin's palace to the Sultan's.

Aladdin's mother then dressed herself carefully, and walked to the

palace with her slaves, while he followed her on horseback.

The Sultan sent musicians with trumpets and cymbals to

meet them, so that the air resounded with music and cheers.

She was taken to the Princess, who saluted her and treated her with

great honour.  At night the princess said good-bye to her father,

and set out on the carpet for Aladdin's palace, with his mother

at her side, and followed by the hundred slaves.  She was charmed

at the sight of Aladdin, who ran to receive her.  "Princess," he

said, "blame your beauty for my boldness if I have displeased you."

She told him that, having seen him, she willingly obeyed

her father in this matter.  After the wedding had taken place,

Aladdin led her into the hall, where a feast was spread, and she

supped with him, after which they danced till midnight.

 

Next day Aladdin invited the Sultan to see the palace.  On

entering the hall with the four-and-twenty windows with their

rubies, diamonds and emeralds, he cried, "It is a world's wonder!

There is only one thing that surprises me.  Was it by accident

that one window was left unfinished?"  "No, sir, by design,"

returned Aladdin.  "I wished your Majesty to have the glory of

finishing this palace."  The Sultan was pleased, and sent for the

best jewelers in the city.  He showed them the unfinished window,

and bade them fit it up like the others.  "Sir," replied their

spokesman, "we cannot find jewels enough."  The Sultan had his own

fetched, which they soon used, but to no purpose, for in a month's

time the work was not half done.  Aladdin knowing that their task

was vain, bade them undo their work and carry the jewels back, and

the genie finished the window at his command.  The Sultan was

surprised to receive his jewels again, and visited Aladdin, who

showed him the window finished.  The Sultan embraced him, the

envious vizier meanwhile hinting that it was the work of enchantment.

 

Aladdin had won the hearts of the people by his gentle bearing.

He was made captain of the Sultan's armies, and won several

battles for him, but remained as courteous as before, and lived

thus in peace and content for several years.

 

But far away in Africa the magician remembered Aladdin, and by

his magic arts discovered that Aladdin, instead of perishing

miserably in the cave, had escaped, and had married a princess,

with whom he was living in great honour and wealth.  He knew that

the poor tailor's son could only have accomplished this by means

of the lamp, and travelled night and day till he reached the

capital of China, bent on Aladdin's ruin.  As he passed through

the town he heard people talking everywhere about a marvelous

palace.  "Forgive my ignorance," he asked, "what is the palace you

speak of?"  Have you not heard of Prince Aladdin's palace," was

the reply, "the greatest wonder in the world?  I will direct you

if you have a mind to see it."  The magician thanked him who spoke,

and having seen the palace knew that it had been raised by the Genie

of the Lamp, and became half mad with rage.  He determined to get

hold of the lamp, and again plunge Aladdin into the deepest poverty.

 

Unluckily, Aladdin had gone a-hunting for eight days, which gave

the magician plenty of time.  He bought a dozen lamps, put them

into a basket, and went to the palace, crying:  "New lamps for old!"

followed by a jeering crowd.  The Princess, sitting in the hall of

four-and-twenty windows, sent a slave to find out what the noise

was about, who came back laughing, so that the Princess scolded her.

"Madam," replied the slave, "who can help laughing to see an old fool

offering to exchange fine new lamps for old ones?"  Another slave,

hearing this, said, "There is an old one on the cornice there which

he can have."  Now this was the magic lamp, which Aladdin had left there,

as he could not take it out hunting with him.  The Princess, not knowing

its value, laughingly bade the slave take it and make the exchange.

She went and said to the magician:  "Give me a new lamp for this."

He snatched it and bade the slave take her choice, amid the jeers

of the crowd.  Little he cared, but left off crying his lamps,

and went out of the city gates to a lonely place, where he remained till

nightfall, when he pulled out the lamp and rubbed it.  The genie

appeared, and at the magician's command carried him, together with

the palace and the Princess in it, to a lonely place in Africa.

 

Next morning the Sultan looked out of the window towards Aladdin's

palace and rubbed his eyes, for it was gone.  He sent for the

Vizier and asked what had become of the palace.  The Vizier looked

out too, and was lost in astonishment.  He again put it down to

enchantment, and this time the Sultan believed him, and sent

thirty men on horseback to fetch Aladdin back in chains.  They met

him riding home, bound him, and forced him to go with them on foot.

The people, however, who loved him, followed, armed, to see

that he came to no harm.  He was carried before the Sultan, who

ordered the executioner to cut off his head.  The executioner made

Aladdin kneel down, bandaged his eyes, and raised his scimitar to

strike.  At that instant the Vizier, who saw that the crowd had

forced their way into the courtyard and were scaling the walls

to rescue Aladdin, called to the executioner to stay his hand.

The people, indeed, looked so threatening that the Sultan gave

way and ordered Aladdin to be unbound, and pardoned him in the

sight of the crowd.  Aladdin now begged to know what he had done.

"False wretch!" said the Sultan, "come hither," and showed him from

the window the place where his palace had stood.  Aladdin was so

amazed he could not say a word.  "Where is your palace and my

daughter?" demanded the Sultan.  "For the first I am not so deeply

concerned, but my daughter I must have, and you must find her or

lose your head."  Aladdin begged for forty days in which to find

her, promising if he failed to return at suffer death at the

Sultan's pleasure.  His prayer was granted, and he went forth

sadly from the Sultan's presence.

 

For three days he wandered about like a madman, asking everyone

what had become of his palace, but they only laughed and pitied him.

He came to the banks of a river, and knelt down to say his prayers

before throwing himself in.  In doing so he rubbed the ring he

still wore.  The genie he had seen in the cave appeared, and

asked his will.  "Save my life, genie," said Aladdin, "and bring

my palace back."  That is not in my power," said the genie;

"I am only the Slave of the Ring; you must ask him of the lamp."

"Even so," said Aladdin, "but thou canst take me to the palace,

and set me down under my dear wife's window."  He at once found

himself in Africa, under the window of the Princess, and fell

asleep out of sheer weariness.

 

He was awakened by the singing of the birds, and his heart was lighter.

He saw plainly that all his misfortunes were owning to the loss of the lamp,

and vainly wondered who had robbed him of it.

 

That morning the Princess rose earlier than she had done since

she had been carried into Africa by the magician, whose company

she was forced to endure once a day.  She, however, treated him

so harshly that he dared not live there altogether.  As she

was dressing, one of her women looked out and saw Aladdin.

The Princess ran and opened the window, and at the noise she made,

Aladdin looked up.  She called to him to come to her, and great

was the joy of these lovers at seeing each other again.  After he

had kissed her Aladdin said:  "I beg of you, Princess, in God's

name, before we speak of anything else, for your own sake and

mine, tell me what has become of an old lamp I left on the cornice

in the hall of four-and-twenty windows when I went a-hunting."

"Alas," she said, "I am the innocent cause of our sorrows," and

told him of the exchange of the lamp.  "Now I know," cried

Aladdin, "that we have to thank the African magician for this!

Where is the lamp?"  "He carries it about with him," said the

Princess.  "I know, for he pulled it out of his breast to show me.

He wishes me to break my faith with you and marry him, saying that

you were beheaded by my father's command.  He is forever speaking

ill of you, but I only reply by my tears.  If I persist, I doubt

not but he will use violence."  Aladdin comforted her, and left

her for a while.  He changed clothes with the first person he met

in the town, and having bought a certain powder returned to the

Princess, who let him in by a little side door.  "Put on your

most beautiful dress," he said to her, "and receive the magician

with smiles, leading him to believe that you have forgotten me.

Invite him to sup with you, and say you wish to taste the wine of

his country.  He will go for some, and while he is gone I will tell

you what to do."  She listened carefully to Aladdin and when he

left her, arrayed herself gaily for the first time since she left

China.  She put on a girdle and head-dress of diamonds and seeing

in a glass that she was more beautiful than ever, received the

magician, saying, to his great amazement:  "I have made up my mind

that Aladdin is dead, and that all my tears will not bring him

back to me, so I am resolved to mourn no more, and have therefore

invited you to sup with me; but I am tired of the wines of China,

and would fain taste those of Africa."  The magician flew to his

cellar, and the Princess put the powder Aladdin had given her in

her cup.  When he returned she asked him to drink her health in

the wine of Africa, handing him her cup in exchange for his, as a

sign she was reconciled to him.  Before drinking the magician made

her a speech in praise of her beauty, but the Princess cut him

short, saying:  "Let us drink first, and you shall say what you

will afterwards."  She set her cup to her lips and kept it there,

while the magician drained his to the dregs and fell back lifeless.

The Princess then opened the door to Aladdin, and flung her arms

around his neck; but Aladdin went to the dead magician, took the

lamp out of his vest, and bade the genie carry the palace and all

in it back to China.  This was done, and the Princess in her chamber

felt only two little shocks, and little thought she was home again.

 

The Sultan, who was sitting in his closet, mourning for his lost

daughter, happened too look up, and rubbed his eyes, for there

stood the palace as before!  He hastened thither, and Aladdin

received him in the hall of the four-and-twenty windows, with the

Princess at his side.  Aladdin told him what had happened, and

showed him the dead body of the magician, that he might believe.

A ten days' feast was proclaimed, and it seemed as if Aladdin might

now live the rest of his life in peace; but it was not meant to be.

 

The African magician had a younger brother, who was, if possible,

more wicked and more cunning than himself.  He travelled to China

to avenge his brother's death, and went to visit a pious woman

called Fatima, thinking she might be of use to him.  He entered

her cell and clapped a dagger to her breast, telling her to rise

and do his bidding on pain of death.  He changed clothes with her,

coloured his face like hers, put on her veil, and murdered her,

that she might tell no tales.  Then he went towards the palace of

Aladdin, and all the people, thinking he was the holy woman,

gathered round him, kissing his hands and begging his blessing.

When he got to the palace there was such a noise going on round

him that the Princess bade her slave look out the window and ask

what was the matter.  The slave said it was the holy woman, curing

people by her touch of their ailments, whereupon the Princess,

who had long desired to see Fatima, sent for her.  On coming to

the Princess the magician offered up a prayer for her health and

prosperity.  When he had done the Princess made him sit by her,

and begged him to stay with her always.  The false Fatima, who

wished for nothing better, consented, but kept his veil down for

fear of discovery.  The princess showed him the hall, and asked

him what he thought of it.  "It is truly beautiful," said the

false Fatima.  "In my mind it wants but one thing."  And what is

that?" said the Princess.  "If only a roc's egg," replied he,

"were hung up from the middle of this dome, it would be the

wonder of the world."

 

After this the Princess could think of nothing but the roc's egg,

and when Aladdin returned from hunting he found her in a very ill

humour.  He begged to know what was amiss, and she told him that

all her pleasure in the hall was spoilt or want of a roc's egg

hanging from the dome.  "If that is all," replied Aladdin, "you

shall soon be happy."  He left her and rubbed the lamp, and when

the genie appeared commanded him to bring a roc's egg.  The genie

gave such a loud and terrible shriek that the hall shook.

 

"Wretch!" he cried, "is it not enough that I have done everything

for you, but you must command me to bring my master and hang him

up in the midst of this dome?  You and your wife and your palace

deserve to be burnt to ashes, but that this request does not come

from you, but from the brother of the African magician, whom you

destroyed.  He is now in your palace disguised as the holy woman,

whom he murdered.  He it was who put that wish into your wife's head.

Take care of yourself, for he means to kill you."  So saying, the

genie disappeared.

 

Aladdin went back to the Princess, saying his head ached,

and requesting that the holy Fatima should be fetched to

lay her hands on it.  But when the magician came near,

Aladdin, seizing his dagger, pierced him to the heart.

"What have you done?" cried the Princess.  "You have

killed the holy woman!"  "Not so," replied Aladdin,

"but a wicked magician," and told her of how she had

been deceived.

 

After this Aladdin and his wife lived in peace.

He succeeded the Sultan when he died, and reigned

for many years, leaving behind him a long line of kings.

 

END.