-------------------------------------------
The princess, who knew nothing of the circumstances surrounding all this, paid little attention to what Aladdin had to say and was in no state to reply to him. Her terror and astonishment at so surprising and unexpected an adventure had put her into such a state that Aladdin could not get a word out of her. He did not leave it at that but decided to undress and then lie down in the place of the son of the grand vizier, his back turned to the princess, after having taken the precaution of putting a sword between them, to show that he deserved to be punished if he made an attempt on her honour.
Happy at having thus deprived his rival of the pleasure which he had flattered himself he would enjoy that night, Aladdin slept quite peacefully. This was not true of the princess, however: never in all her life had she spent so trying and disagreeable a night; and as for the son of the vizier, if one considers the place and the state in which the jinni had left him, one can guess that her new husband spent it in a much more distressing manner.
The next morning, Aladdin did not need to rub the lamp to summon the jinni, who came by himself at the appointed hour, just when Aladdin had finished dressing. ‘Here am I,’ he said to Aladdin. ‘What is your command?’ ‘Go and bring back the son of the grand vizier from the place where you put him,’ said Aladdin. ‘Place him in this bed again and carry it back to the sultan’s palace, from where you took it.’ The jinni went to fetch the son of the grand vizier, and when he reappeared, Aladdin took up his sword from the bed. The jinni placed the bridegroom next to the princess and, in an instant, he returned the marriage bed to the same room in the sultan’s palace from where he had taken it.
It should be pointed out that, all the while, the jinni could not be seen by either the princess or the son of the grand vizier – his hideous shape would have been enough to make them die of fright. Nor did they hear any of the conversation between Aladdin and him. All they noticed was how their bed shook and how they were transported from one place to another; which was quite enough, as one can easily imagine, to give them a considerable fright.
The jinni had just restored the nuptial bed to its place when the sultan, curious to discover how his daughter, the princess, had spent the first night of her marriage, entered her room to wish her good morning. No sooner did he hear the door open than the son of the grand vizier, chilled to the bone from the cold he had endured all night long and not yet having had time to warm up again, got up and went to the closet where he had undressed the previous evening.
The sultan approached the princess’s bed, kissed her between the eyes, as was the custom, and asked her, as he greeted her with a smile, what sort of night she had had; but raising his head again and looking at her more closely, he was extremely surprised to see that she was in a state of great dejection and neither by a blush spreading over her face nor by any other sign could she satisfy his curiosity. She only gave him a most sorrowful look, which indicated either great sadness or great discontent. He said a few more words to her but, seeing that he could get nothing more from her, he decided she was keeping silent out of modesty and so retired. Nevertheless, still suspicious that there was something unusual about her silence, he went straight away to the apartments of the sultana and told her in what a state he had found the princess and how she had received him. ‘Sire,’ the sultana said to him, ‘this should not surprise your majesty; there’s no bride who does not display the same reserve the morning after her wedding night. It won’t be the same in two or three days: she will then receive her father, the sultan, as she ought. I am going to see her myself,’ she added, ‘and I will be very surprised if she receives me in the same way.’
When the sultana had dressed, she went to the princess’s room. Badr had not yet risen, and when the sultana approached her bed, greeting and embracing her, great was her surprise not only to receive no reply but also to see the princess in a state of deep dejection, which made her conclude that something she could not understand had happened to her daughter. ‘My daughter,’ she said to her, ‘how is it that you don’t respond to my caresses? How can you behave like this to your mother? Don’t you think I don’t know what can happen in circumstances like yours? I would really like to think that that’s not what’s in your mind and something else must have happened. Tell me quite frankly; don’t leave me weighed down by anxiety for a moment longer.’
At last, the princess broke her silence and gave a deep sigh. ‘Ah! My dear and esteemed mother,’ she exclaimed, ‘forgive me if I have failed to show you the respect I owe you. My mind is so preoccupied with the extraordinary things that happened to me last night that I have not yet recovered from my astonishment and terror and I hardly know myself.’ She then proceeded to tell her, in the most colourful detail, how shortly after she and her husband had gone to bed, the bed had been lifted up and transported in a moment to a dark and squalid room where she found herself all alone and separated from her husband, without knowing what had happened to him; how she had seen a young man who had addressed a few words to her which her terror had prevented her understanding, who had lain beside her in her husband’s place, after placing a sword between them; and how her husband had been restored to her and the bed returned to its place, all in a very short space of time. ‘All this,’ she added, ‘had just taken place when the sultan, my father, came into the room; I was so overcome by grief that I had not the strength to reply even with a single word, and so I have no doubt he was angry at the manner in which I received the honour he did me by coming to see me. But I hope he will forgive me when he knows of my sad adventure and sees the pitiful state I’m still in.’
The sultana listened calmly to everything the princess had to say, but she did not believe it. ‘My daughter,’ she said, ‘you were quite right not to talk about this to the sultan, your father. Take care not to talk about it to anyone – they will think you mad if they hear you talk like this.’ ‘Mother,’ she rejoined, ‘I can assure you that I am in my right mind. Ask my husband and he will tell you the same thing.’ ‘I will ask him,’ replied the sultana, ‘but even if his account is the same as yours, I won’t be any more convinced than I am now. Now get up and clear your mind of such fantasies; a fine thing it would be if you were to let such a dream upset the celebrations arranged for your wedding, which are set to last several days, not only in this palace but throughout the kingdom! Can’t you already hear the fanfares and the sounds of trumpets, drums and tambourines? All this should fill you with pleasure and joy and make you forget the fantastic stories you’ve been telling me.’ The sultana then summoned the princess’s maids and, after she had made her get up and seen her set about getting dressed, she went to the sultan’s apartments and told him that some fancy had, indeed, entered the head of his daughter, but that it was nothing. She sent for the son of the vizier to discover from him a little about what the princess had told her; but he, knowing himself to be greatly honoured by his alliance with the sultan, decided it would be best to conceal the adventure. ‘Tell me, son-in-law,’ the sultana said to him, ‘are you being as stubborn as your wife?’ ‘My lady,’ he replied, ‘may I enquire why you ask me this?’ ‘That will do,’ retorted the sultana. ‘I don’t need to hear anything more. You are wiser than she is.’
The rejoicings continued in the palace all day, and the sultana, who never left the princess, did all she could to cheer her up and make her take part in the entertainments and amusements prepared for her. But the princess was so struck down by the visions of what had happened to her the previous night that it was easy to see she was totally preoccupied by them. The son of the vizier was just as shattered by the bad night he had spent but, fired by ambition, he concealed it and, seeing him, no one would have thought he was anything else but the happiest of bridegrooms.
Aladdin, knowing all about what had happened in the palace and never doubting that the newly-weds would sleep together, despite the misadventure of the previous night, had no desire to leave them in peace. So, after nightfall, he had recourse once again to the lamp. Immediately, the jinni appeared and greeted him in the same way as on the other occasions, offering him his services. ‘The son of the grand vizier and Princess Badr are going to sleep together again tonight,’ explained Aladdin. ‘Go, and as soon as they are in bed, bring them here, as you did yesterday.’
The jinni served Aladdin as faithfully and as punctually as on the previous day; the son of the grand vizier spent as disagreeable a night as the one he had already endured and the princess was as mortified as before to have Aladdin as her bedfellow, with the sword placed between them. The next day, the jinni, following Aladdin’s orders, returned and restored the husband to his wife’s side; he then lifted up the bed with the newly-weds and transported it back to the room in the palace from where he had taken it.
Early the next morning, the sultan, anxious to discover how the princess had spent the second night, and wondering if she would receive him in the same way as on the previous day, went to her room to find out. But no sooner did the son of the grand vizier, more ashamed and mortified by his bad luck on the second night, hear the sultan come in than he hastily arose and hurled himself into the closet.
The sultan approached the princess’s bed and greeted her, and after embracing her in the same way as he had the day before, asked her: ‘Well, my dear, are you in as bad a mood this morning as you were yesterday? Tell me what sort of night you had.’ But the princess again remained silent, and the sultan saw that her mind was even more disturbed and she was more dejected than the first time. He had no doubt now that something extraordinary had happened to her. So, irritated by the mystery she was making of it and clutching his sword, he angrily said to her: ‘My daughter, either you tell me what you are hiding from me or I will cut off your head this very instant.’
At last, the princess, more frightened by the tone of her aggrieved father and his threat than by the sight of the unsheathed sword, broke her silence, and, with tears in her eyes, burst out: ‘My dear father and sultan, I beg pardon of your majesty if I have offended you and I hope that in your goodness and mercy anger will give way to compassion when I give you a faithful account of the sad and pitiful state in which I spent all last night and the night before.’ After this preamble, which somewhat calmed and softened the sultan, she faithfully recounted to him all that had happened to her during those two unfortunate nights. Her account was so moving that, in the love and tenderness he felt for her, he was filled with deep sorrow. When she had finished her account, she said to him: ‘If your majesty has the slightest doubt about the account I have just given, you can ask the husband you have given me. I am convinced your majesty will be persuaded of the truth when he bears the same witness to it as I have done.’
The sultan now truly felt the extreme distress that such an astonishing adventure must have caused the princess and said to her: ‘My daughter, you were very wrong not to have told me yesterday about such a strange affair, which concerns me as much as yourself. I did not marry you with the intention of making you miserable but rather with a view to making you happy and content, and to let you enjoy the happiness you deserve and can expect with a husband who seemed suited to you. Forget now all the worrying images you have just told me about. I will see to it that you endure no more nights as disagreeable and as unbearable as those you have just spent.’
As soon as the sultan had returned to his own apartments, he called for his grand vizier and asked him: ‘Vizier, have you seen your son and has he not said anything to you?’ When the vizier replied that he had not seen him, the sultan related to him everything Princess Badr had just told him, adding: ‘I do not doubt my daughter was telling the truth, but I would be very glad to have it confirmed by what your son says. Go and ask him about it.’
The grand vizier made haste to join his son and to tell him what the sultan had said. He charged him to not conceal the truth but to tell him whether all this was true, to which his son replied: ‘Father, I will conceal nothing from you. All that the princess told the sultan is true, but she couldn’t tell him about the ill treatment I myself received, which is this: since my wedding I have spent the two most cruel nights imaginable and I do not have the words to describe to you exactly and in every detail the ills I have suffered. I won’t tell you what I felt when I found myself lifted up four times in my bed and transported from one place to another, unable to see who was lifting the bed or to imagine how that could have been done. You can judge for yourself the wretched state I found myself in when I tell you that I spent two nights standing, naked but for my nightshirt, in a kind of narrow privy, not free to move from where I stood nor able to make any movement, although I could see no obstacle to prevent me from moving. I don’t need to go into further detail about all my sufferings. I will not conceal from you that all this has not stopped me from feeling towards the princess, my wife, all the love, respect and gratitude that she deserves; but I confess in all sincerity that despite all the honour and glory that comes to me from having married the daughter of the sultan, I would rather die than live any longer in such an elevated alliance if I have to endure any further such disagreeable treatment as I have done. I am sure the princess feels the same as I do and will readily agree that our separation is as necessary for her peace of mind as it is for mine. And so, father, I beseech you, by the same love which led you to procure for me such a great honour, to make the sultan agree to our marriage being declared null and void.’
However great the grand vizier’s ambition was for his son to become the son-in-law of the sultan, seeing how firmly resolved he was to separate from the princess, he did not think it right to suggest he be patient and wait a few more days to see if this problem might not be solved. He left his son and went to give his reply to the sultan, to whom he admitted frankly that it was only too true after what he had just learned from his son. Without waiting even for the sultan to speak to him about ending the marriage, which he could see he was all too much in favour of doing, he begged him to allow his son to leave the palace and to return home to him, using as a pretext that it was not right for the princess to be exposed a moment longer to such terrible persecution for the sake of his son.
The grand vizier had no difficulty in obtaining what he asked for. Immediately, the sultan, who had already made up his mind, gave orders to stop the festivities in his palace, the city and throughout the length and breadth of his kingdom, countering those originally given. In a very short while, all signs of joy and public rejoicing in the city and in the kingdom had ceased.
This sudden and unexpected change gave rise to many different interpretations: people asked each other what had caused this upset, but all that they could say was that the grand vizier had been seen leaving the palace and going home, accompanied by his son, both of them looking very dejected. Only Aladdin knew the secret and inwardly rejoiced at the good fortune which the lamp had procured him. Once he had learned for certain that his rival had abandoned the palace and that the marriage between him and the princess was over, he needed no longer to rub the lamp nor to summon the jinni to stop it being consummated. What is strange is that neither the sultan nor the grand vizier, who had forgotten Aladdin and his request, had the slightest idea that he had any part in the enchantment which had just caused the break-up of the princess’s marriage.
Meanwhile, Aladdin let the three months go by that the sultan had stipulated before the marriage between him and Princess Badr could take place. He counted the days very carefully, and when they were up, the very next morning he hastened to send his mother to the palace to remind the sultan of his word.
Aladdin’s mother went to the palace as her son had asked her and stood at the entrance to the council chamber, in the same spot as before. As soon as the sultan caught sight of her, he recognized her and immediately remembered the request she had made him and the date to which he had put off fulfilling it. The vizier was at that moment reporting to him on some matter, but the sultan interrupted him, saying: ‘Vizier, I see the good woman who gave us such a fine gift a few months ago; bring her up – you can resume your report when I have heard what she has to say.’ The grand vizier turned towards the entrance of the council chamber, saw Aladdin’s mother and immediately summoned the chief usher, to whom he pointed her out, ordering him to bring her forward.
Aladdin’s mother advanced right to the foot of the throne, where she prostrated herself as was customary. When she rose up again, the sultan asked her what her request was, to which she replied: ‘Sire, I come before your majesty once more to inform you, in the name of my son Aladdin, that the three months’ postponement of the request I had the honour to put to your majesty has come to an end and I entreat you to be so good as to remember your word.’
When he had first seen her, so meanly dressed, standing before him in all her poverty and lowliness, the sultan had thought that by making a delay of three months to reply to her request he would hear no more talk of a marriage which he regarded as not at all suitable for his daughter, the princess. He was, however, embarrassed at being called upon to keep his word to her but he did not think it advisable to give her an immediate reply, so he consulted his grand vizier, expressing to him his repugnance at the idea of marrying the princess to a stranger whose fortune he presumed was less than the most modest.
The grand vizier lost no time in telling the sultan what he thought about this. ‘Sire,’ he said, ‘it seems to me there is a sure way of avoiding such an unequal marriage which would not give Aladdin, even were he better known to your majesty, grounds for complaint: this is to put such a high price on the princess that, however great his riches, he could not meet this. This would be a way of making him abandon such a bold, not to say foolhardy, pursuit, about which no doubt he did not think carefully before embarking on it.’
