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"This is European," I said, closing the portfolio, "and of no interest to me."
A glint of amusement returned to Basim's eyes. "Turn to the last page," he said.
It was the conclusion of the text, written in the same bold hand, and
ran nearly to the bottom of the page. I drew a quick breath at the
words in the lower right hand corner: Richard Francis Burton. London,
1884.
Burton was the famous adventurer who had translated the Tales from the Arabian Nights. I had seen his signature on documents in the British Museum. Still, there were several manuscript versions of Burton's translation, and though collectors have bid up their price, there was not a single tale that had ever sold for one twentieth the price Basim had quoted me.
As if he had guessed my thoughts, Basim spoke. "Have you read all the Arabian Night's Tales?"
Burton's translation runs to fifteen volumes. "No, I have not."
"If you had, you would know that none has the title, 'The Tale of the Two Queens.'"
"What?" Do you mean to say that this is the missing manuscript?"
"I have every reason to believe that it is," said Basim, "and so does the Frenchman ..."
In the celebrated Terminal Essay with which Burton concludes his fifteenth volume, he writes of what he calls the Thousand and Second Tale, a tale which, he adds, for reasons of his own, he did not include in an otherwise exhaustive translation. Scholars have searched in vain for an untranslated portion of the original Arabic. Most have concluded that the reference is nothing more than a joke at the reader's expense, but a small band of Burton loyalists has argued that there must be such a tale, even if Burton wrote it himself rather than translate an original text which has since been lost. If what I held in my hands were the missing tale, it would be very valuable. I looked up at Basim.
"It would be tiresome for you to examine the document here," he was saying. "Please take it with you and study it at your convenience."
"That is very generous of you."
"However, I must set two conditions."
"Of course."
"First, you must promise that you will not make a copy of the text. You will recall that it was never published. Second, the Frenchman will return in one week with money in hand. I do not wish to disappoint him. I would, of course, be pleased to entertain an offer from your Excellency." Amusement glinted in Basim's eyes.
"Sir Richard was, like your Excellency, an Englishman," he went on, "In all respect I feel sure that he would have preferred that his work return to England rather than fall into the hands of foreigners."
"Perhaps so. I will study the document and return it within a week."
I rose to go but Basim laid a hand on my sleeve. "And the first condition?"
"By all means. I give you my honor that I will not make a copy."
"It is always a pleasure to deal with the English," he said. "I required the Frenchman to read the document in my presence."
Basim wrapped the portfolio in its cloth and slipped on his sandals to accompany me to the door, "It is a curious tale," he said, pointing to the package in my hands. "It begins where Burton's tales leave off- a kind of epilogue."
He bid me farewell and once again I stepped out into the sunlight.
As I walked down the dusty streets toward home I tried to remember, the setting of the Arabian Nights' Tales. A certain King Shahryar and his brother, likewise a king, had become so embittered by the adultery of their wives that they had devised a foolproof method to ensure faithfulness. Each night they would take to wife one of the virgins of the kingdom, and in the morning have her executed.
This grisly practice appears to have gone on for some time until a
beautiful, courageous and well-read lass named Scheherazade volunteered| to be King Shahryar's bride. Her father was grief-stricken at the news, but Scheherazade had a plan to end the carnage. Her first night with the king, she spun him an extravagant tale of wazirs, jinni, trickery and enchanted fish, and left off at such a tantalizing point that the king had no choice but to let her live to the next night so that he might learn how the story ended.
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