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NISSA.1

A TRUE STORY OF ISFAHAN.

I HAD long pressed my friend to tell me the true particulars of a certain adventure which he had taken part in during his recent travels in Asia, and of which his acquaintances whispered mysterious hints.

66

Lighting a cigarette, he said : The story is not a long one, but rather dramatic. Diable! why, even thinking of it gives me the cold shivers. I daresay you remember that, two years ago, the Minister of Fine Arts despatched me to Persia. Well, my mission was to study and describe the province of Irák Ajami,2 to accomplish which I began by installing myself comfortably at Isfahán. To tell you the truth, by the end of three months I had collected and digested all my material, and had drawn up a fairly exhaustive report; but had I returned so quickly the officials of the department would hardly have believed that I had fully complied with my instructions; and I was, indeed, being almost bored to death with ennui, when, fortunately, the governor of the province, the Metamet as they call him, was changed; and, in place of the former, the Shah sent his cousin, Prince Malcom Khán to rule at Isfahán.'

"What! the Prince who came to France?"

I.

At last, one evening at the Club, when Gaston was in an amiable frame of mind, waxing confidential, he unburdened his mind to me, and related the following remarkable experience :

"Yes; he is now envoy at the Court of St James. In fact, you know one of my heroes, Mahamad Aga, who was his orderly officer here. He had been promoted to the rank of major-general, or rather, as they say in Persia, of Sartip."

"Ah, I remember him well; a nice young fellow, about thirty I fancy, who used to come and have supper with us occasionally."

You

"Just so; that's the man. can fancy how glad I was at meeting him again in that out-of-theway part of the world. All the more that those Orientals have something very taking about them when they become half Parisian. One might say that their primitive and stern reserve gives way to a winning and gracious manner by contact with Western civilisation. Before the week was out the Sartip and I became inseparable."

"But how about the drama?"

"Don't be in such a devil of a hurry! As yet I have only got to the prelude. One fine morning as I was riding about the town rather dreamily, I suffered myself to give

1 From the French of M. Albert Delpit. The original narrator of this tragedy, which is actually founded on fact, is said to have been M. Paténotre, now French Minister for the Republic at Tangiers, who was in Persia some fifteen years ago.

2 Irák Ajami, the ancient Media, peopled by the Turanian Scyths, is the province north of Luristan.

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"For heaven's sake cut your description short, my good fellow; you are not elaborating a report for the Minister! You promised me a dramatic story. Let's have it, and above all, no scenic descriptions. Spare me your oratory!"

Gaston gave a sigh of resignation and resumed, "I was out riding near the Kiosk of Tchehet Setun,1 when at the corner of a street I saw a lady in a litter. As a rule, Persian women out of doors look like mere bundles of clothes. They are muffled, of course, or rather they wear over their heads a sort of hood, with a veil which covers the lower part of their faces. The Persian lady whom I now met was, however, an exception to the rule, and took pains that her graceful and well-proportioned figure should be seen to advantage. I could notice her eyes, very large and shining like live coals. My horse was at a walk, and I quietly followed the litter, which was carried along very slowly. I half fancied that the fair unknown turned round once or twice, but at the time I really didn't pay much attention to the circumstance, as in the East adventures of that kind are very improbable. I had nearly forgotten the incident, when two

days afterwards I again came across the same litter. This time it happened that I was not alone. Mahamad Aga was with me. At a glance I recognised the veiled lady, and above all, her extraordinary eyes, which literally blazed, as it were, with hot flames. She turned round as before, but this time unmistakably and deliberately. I glanced at my friend the Sartip, but he apparently took no notice. We had ridden along in this way for some ten minutes when the litter turned sharply towards the bridge leading to Julfa.2 This bridge is one of the most beautiful structures of the kind in the world. It has thirtythree pointed arches, whose piers are washed by the swift current of the Zaindarúd, that most capricious of rivers, which in summer you can cross dry - shod, but in the month of November, in which we then were, its waters are as rapid and turbulent as one of the wild Alpine torrents. On either side of the causeway across the bridge is a line of arcades affording a pleasant shelter, and this bridge is rather frequented as a promenade and rendezvous, where people go to breathe the fresh air of an evening. I had therefore some hesitation in following my unknown charmer too openly for fear of compromising her-and myself; but I need have had no scruples. The fair dame, at all events, did not hesitate in the least, for, leaning half out of her litter, she coolly dropped her handkerchief in the roadway."

"Ha, ha! The Persian ladies then are lively? And the Sartip, did he say nothing?"

1 Tchehet Setun, or Palace of the Forty Pillars, a magnificent relic of Shah Abbas the Great.

2 Julfa is the Armenian suburb of Isfahán, on the southern side of the Zaindarúd.

"At the moment, no; but during the rest of our ride he remained very silent, and he bit his moustache in a rather preoccupied manner. When we reached the palace-Come in with me,' said he, and when we were alone in his private apartment he added'My dear fellow, I said nothing to you. A little time ago it would have been useless; but now, instead of keeping that precious handkerchief so carefully and ridiculously pressed against your heart, let me advise you to throw it away at once. Far better for you to put it in the fire.'

“What do you mean?'

"I don't want you to get yourself strangled or brained, or thrown into the Zaindarúd. I am, as you know, in charge of the town police, and am answerable for your safety to the French Legation!'

"But!

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"I won't listen to another word. Really you fellows are most astonishing-you Parisians! You are always fancying yourselves on the Boulevard des Čapucines ! We are in the East, my dear fellow, and in the East husbands are not to be trifled with. At Paris . . . . but never mind; your beauteous unknown is not an incognita to me. Her name is Nissá !'

"Nissá !'

"If the name is charming, I can tell you her husband is very much the reverse. He is a rich merchant of the old suburbs, notorious for his jealousy and ferocity. His mother was, it is said, of British origin; but as for him, he is the most oriental of Orientals. He would, in fact, have you killed like a dog, without the slightest compunction.'

"And what, pray, is the name of this veritable Bluebeard of modern Isfahán?'

"Ismatulla. I can advise you not to make that gentleman's acquaintance. Bah! You know where he lives; he is the owner of that fine building just on the bank of the river at the end of the bridge.'

"And Nissá? what is said of

her?'

"You're a true Parisian! We in this part of the world never trouble ourselves much about womankind, or if we do, or rather if any of our ladies do cause any trouble. . . Ah, well! they are sewn up in sacks and thrown into the river.'

"You don't say so! How horrible!'

"You think so? Oh, we are quite civilised now,' resumed the Sartip coolly, - 'in comparison, that is. In former days they would have put a live cat into the sack as well. When excited by the water the animal would have scratched the woman's face. That is no longer done, at least not generally-the effect of European influence but M. Ismatulla is quite capable of it.'

"This little conversation, I must say, rather cooled my ardour; besides, Mahamad Aga had the good sense not to pursue the disagreeable subject further. I dined with him, and in the evening he sent for musicians, who played to us after the Zenghoule manner. But I remained preoccupied. I saw ever before my eyes the graceful and comely form of the strange lady leaning out of her palanquin, and her delicate small hand as she dropped the lace handkerchief, which I still retained in my possession. Amidst the strains of the music it seemed as if a cease

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"I smiled with that conceit peculiar to a man when asked a like question.

"She continued: "I have a bargain to offer you. It is dark, no one will see us. You have only to follow me. Half-way, where we are going, I will tie this bandage over your eyes, but you must swear to me not to try and find out where I take you.'

""I promise!'

"The hag made a grimace which caused her countenance to look still more hideous.

"I had accepted all at once, like that, without premeditation, urged as it were by a sudden uncontrollable impulse. The fact was, a whole day had passed by since my fright, and the effect of the nightmare had also gone off by degrees, but I yet heard the ceaseless voice singing Nissá! Nissá!' in my ears. The old woman evidently came from her. However, I went up stairs quickly to my room and took a small revolver with me in case of accidents, and five minutes later we had started. It was ridiculous, reckless madness: I knew that well

II.

enough, but there are some absurd anomalies about which one never reasons. The unknown one, Nissá, exerted over me I know not what mysterious influence. I had not even seen her, and yet an irresistible longing for her possessed

me.

Her gleaming eyes had burnt into my heart.

"At length, arrived at the bridge of Julfa, the old woman stopped, and taking from her pocket a thick scarf, skilfully bandaged my eyes so that could no longer see anything about me; and then, holding her hand, I permitted her to conduct me where she would. By the fresher air I guessed that we were crossing the river; I then heard the voices of the passers-by, right and left of

me.

It never occurred to me that I might be noticed. I went along as one in a waking dream, thinking only of the supple form of the mysterious Nissá, with the agile, cat-like movements of her delicate hand, and her flashing, passionate eyes. In a few minutes the old woman turned to the right, but we did not leave the banks of the Zaindarúd. I could hear the hurried and tumultuous flowing of its waves, broken for an instant by the piers of the bridge. At last my conductress stopped; a key was turned, and the old hag said to me in a low voice, 'Go up.'

"Five steps only, and then I felt my feet pressing a soft, thick carpet, and at the same time the bandage was torn from my eyes. I found myself in a small room,

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burning in a rich fumigator on a table of red and blue inlaid work; those exciting perfumes of the East which intoxicate like the fumes of rare old wines. On the walls, which were draped with yellow Cashmere hangings, instruments of music were suspendedthe nefir, which resembles our hautbois, timbrels, two kematchés, or viols, and arms interspersed here and there among necklaces and other gewgaws. Outside could be heard the dull, regular roar of the river. By lifting a corner of a curtain I could even see that the waters of the stream washed against the very walls of the house. Almost instantly I heard a slight rustling on the carpet. I turned round and saw Nissá ! I remained absolutely stupefied, dazzled. She might have been seventeen or eighteen. Her luxuriant wealth of black hair reminded me of Regnault's 'Salome,' falling over her most bewitching neck and shoulders. Her complexion, of a pale amber, shone with changing reflections like mother-of-pearl. But what most struck me was the effective contrast between dazzling white teeth and her flashing black eyes. Her eyelashes, eyebrows, and lips were painted. She smiled as she regarded me with sparkling but calm eyes. I could not help recalling to mind the Sartip's warning, and, thought I to myself, this young lady certainly does not seem very timid. Meantime she took my hand, and making me sit down upon the sofa, My husband has left for Tihrán,' she said, 'and we have time to divert ourselves.'

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"She spoke in English with

a certain foreign accent; then striking a small gong with a quaint copper drumstick, coffee was brought in, and she then began talking in a rapid strain, running her words one into the other with vivacity, telling me how bored she felt, and how slow it was for her in Isfahan, and that she had noticed me at once. At the same time her eyes became more tender, and her hand gently pressed mine. She drew nearer to me, and suddenly threw herself into my arms.

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"I was rather taken aback, when of a sudden a noise was apparent in the next room. As quick as thought she jumped up, erect and trembling with passion. Her caresses and her sudden alarm succeeded one another so rapidly, that I had not time to collect my thoughts. Still with the same agile and feline grace she ran to the wall, from which, without a moment's hesitation, she took a small sharp knife, which she hid in her sleeve. Then turning her head towards me, she said 'Wait!' and with an energetic gesture she disappeared behind the folds of the heavy tapestry.

"A vague feeling of mistrust came over me. I remembered the warning of the Sartip. Perhaps I had been a little imprudent. Suddenly the noise recommenced in the next room-loud voices- -a short struggle, then silence. Suddenly the curtain was lifted, and Nissá reappeared. She was quite pale; so white, indeed, that the pearly tint of her complexion almost matched the pearls of her necklace. She half leant herself against the wall, like a white statue against the background of the yellow hangings, smiling, and showing by her smile her white teeth, like those of a young she

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