The Shaving of Shagpat - George Meredith (bookreader TXT) 📗
- Author: George Meredith
Book online «The Shaving of Shagpat - George Meredith (bookreader TXT) 📗». Author George Meredith
So Baba Mustapha was thrust forth by the soldiers of the guard; and the King of Shiraz, who was no other than the great King Shahpushan, exclaimed, when he beheld Baba Mustapha, “He? why, it is the prince of barbers and talkative ones! Hath he not operated on my head, the head of me in old time? Truly now, if it be in man to shave Shagpat, the hand of this barber will do it!”
And the King of Oolb peered on Baba Mustapha, crying, “Even this fellow I bastinadoed!”
And the King of Gaf, that was Kresnuk, famous in the annals of the time, said aloud, “I’m amazed at the pertinacity of this barber! To my court he came, searching some silly nephew, and would have shaved us all in spite of our noses; yea, talked my chief Vizier into a dead sleep, and so thinned him. And there was no safety from him save in thongs and stripes and lashes!”
Now, upon that the King of the City cried, “Be the will of Allah achieved, and the inviolacy of Shagpat made manifest! Thou barber, thou! do thy worst to contaminate him, and take the punishment in store for thee. And if it is written thou succeed, then keep thy filthy life: small chance of that!”
Baba Mustapha remembered the poet’s words:
“The abyss is worth a leap, however wide,
When life, sweet life, is on the other side.”
And he controlled himself to the mastery of his members, and stepped forward to essay once more the Shaving of Shagpat. Lo, the great hall was breathless, nought heard save the splashing of the fountain in its fall, and the rustle of the robe of Baba Mustapha as he aired his right arm, hovering round Shagpat like a bird about the nest; and he was buzzing as a bee ere it entereth the flower, and quivered like a butterfly when ’tis fluttering over a blossom; and Baba Mustapha sniffed at Shagpat within arm’s reach, fearing him, so that the people began to hum with a great rapture, and the King Shahpushan cried, “Aha! mark him! this monkey knoweth the fire!”
But the King of the City of Shagpat was wroth, and commanded his guards to flourish their scimitars, and the keen light cut the chords of indecision in Baba Mustapha, and drove him upon Shagpat with a dash of desperation; and lo! he stretched his hand and brought down the blade upon the head of Shagpat. Then was the might of Shagpat made manifest, for suddenly in his head the Identical rose up straight, even to a level with the roof of that hall, burning as it had been an angry flame of many fiery colours, and Baba Mustapha was hurled from him a great space like a ball that reboundeth, and he was twisting after the fashion of envenomed serpents, sprawling and spurning, and uttering cries of horror. Surely, to see that sight the four Kings and the people bit their forefingers, and winked till the water stood in their eyes, and Kadza, turning about, exclaimed, “This owe we to the wise woman! where lurketh she?” So she called about the hall, “wise woman! wise woman!”
Now, when she could find Noorna bin Noorka nowhere in that crowd, she shrieked exultingly, “ ’Twas a genie! Wullahy! all afreets, male and female, are in the service of Shagpat, my light, my eyes, my sun! I his moon!”
Meantime the King of the City called to Baba Mustapha, “Hast thou had enough of barbering, O vile one? Ho! a second essay on the head of Shagpat! so shall the might that’s in him be indisputable, bruited abroad, and a great load upon the four winds.”
Now, Baba Mustapha was persuaded by the scimitars of the guard to a second essay on the head of Shagpat, and the second time he was shot away from Shagpat through the crowd and great assemblage to the extreme end of the hall, where he lay writhing about, abandoned in loathliness; and he in his despondency, and despite of protestation and the slackness of his limbs, was pricked again by the scimitars of the guard to a third essay on the head of Shagpat, the people jeering at him, for they were joyous, light of heart; and lo! the third time he was shot off violently, and whirled away like a stone from a sling, even into the outer air and beyond the city walls, into the distance of waste places. And now a great cry rose from the people, as it were a song of triumph, for the Identical stood up wrathfully from the head of Shagpat, burning in brilliance, blinding to look on, he sitting inanimate beneath it; and it waxed in size and pierced through the roof of the hall, and was a sight to the streets of the city; and the horsemen camped without the walls beheld it, and marvelled,
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