Ali tell the story of the enchanted horse.
The Indian apologized for his late arrival, then said: “None of the wonders you have seen during the day can be compared to this horse.” The king replied, “It is but a clever imitation of a real one. What is so special about it?”
The Indian explained, “It is special because I have only to mount him and wish myself in some special place, and in a very few moments I shall be there.”
If Ali had been watching Gordon, he would have seen the Englishman’s eyes memorizing his mother’s face. If he had been listening to Gordon’s heartbeat, he would have heard it quickening.
The melody of Anisa’s expressive voice, her impossibly beautiful features, her golden hair cascading like shafts of sunlight—all this is more than Gordon can bear. He cannot stop worshipping her with his eyes, cannot concentrate on the lesson. Everything he has ever desired seems summed up in this magnificent creation reclining on pillows before him. He fights her magnetic pull, battles the attraction of his body to hers. It is important that he project a detached demeanor for a few more hours.
Anisa cannot prevent her eyes from glancing furtively at Gordon. But when she sees Gordon looking at her she quickly turns away, afraid that the intimacy of their eyes might betray her desire to touch the skin of this Englishman, feel his arms around her, his moist breath on her neck.
“Do you see that mountain?” asked the king, pointing to a huge mass that towered into the sky. “Go and bring me the leaf of a palm that grows at the foot.”
Taking a seat on the horse, the Indian turned a peg in its neck and the animal bounded like lightning into the air. In a few minutes the Indian returned with the palm. The king now desired the horse. “Name your price,” he said.
Ali’s half-sisters, their mothers, even the anderun slaves are beginning to quietly crowd near the English lesson, eager for a moment’s escape into the magical world created by the words of their beloved Anisa.
“I can only sell it on one condition,” the Indian replied. “The horse was given to me by its inventor in exchange for my only daughter. He made me promise that I would never part with it except for some object of equal value.”
The king offered any city in his kingdom. But the Indian declined, saying, “I can only give you my horse in exchange for the hand of your daughter.”
Eyes widen throughout the anderun. A startled gasp causes Gordon to become aware of the growing audience. Astonished, he counts fifteen already.
Anisa looks around and sees the many captivated faces. Smiling, she decides to give them what they want— entertainment . Her rich voice becomes even more animated as she begins to enact the characters in the story.
Though the king decided the bargain was fair, he insisted that the prince be allowed to test its powers. The Indian agreed and helped the prince to mount the horse. But before he could show the prince how to guide it, the prince turned the peg. He and the horse were soon out of sight.
After a long time, the prince had still failed to return home. The king grew angry with the Indian. “If the prince is not safely back in three months,” he said. “I shall have your head.” The king threw the Indian into prison.
Meanwhile, the prince landed safely on the terraced roof of a huge palace. Bravely he set out to explore, finding himself at last in a magnificent chamber full of sleeping women, all lying on low couches… except one, who was on a sofa. This one, he knew, must be the princess.
The kelauntar’s other wives are intoxicated by fantasies of a gallant prince finding them asleep. The delicious dream makes them shudder with delight. The flame of their silent passion is fanned by the nearness of Gordon, the mysterious foreigner, a man more exotic and beautiful than anyone but Anisa. Gordon becomes their prince, their unattainable prize, their unrequited
The Indian apologized for his late arrival, then said: “None of the wonders you have seen during the day can be compared to this horse.” The king replied, “It is but a clever imitation of a real one. What is so special about it?”
The Indian explained, “It is special because I have only to mount him and wish myself in some special place, and in a very few moments I shall be there.”
If Ali had been watching Gordon, he would have seen the Englishman’s eyes memorizing his mother’s face. If he had been listening to Gordon’s heartbeat, he would have heard it quickening.
The melody of Anisa’s expressive voice, her impossibly beautiful features, her golden hair cascading like shafts of sunlight—all this is more than Gordon can bear. He cannot stop worshipping her with his eyes, cannot concentrate on the lesson. Everything he has ever desired seems summed up in this magnificent creation reclining on pillows before him. He fights her magnetic pull, battles the attraction of his body to hers. It is important that he project a detached demeanor for a few more hours.
Anisa cannot prevent her eyes from glancing furtively at Gordon. But when she sees Gordon looking at her she quickly turns away, afraid that the intimacy of their eyes might betray her desire to touch the skin of this Englishman, feel his arms around her, his moist breath on her neck.
“Do you see that mountain?” asked the king, pointing to a huge mass that towered into the sky. “Go and bring me the leaf of a palm that grows at the foot.”
Taking a seat on the horse, the Indian turned a peg in its neck and the animal bounded like lightning into the air. In a few minutes the Indian returned with the palm. The king now desired the horse. “Name your price,” he said.
Ali’s half-sisters, their mothers, even the anderun slaves are beginning to quietly crowd near the English lesson, eager for a moment’s escape into the magical world created by the words of their beloved Anisa.
“I can only sell it on one condition,” the Indian replied. “The horse was given to me by its inventor in exchange for my only daughter. He made me promise that I would never part with it except for some object of equal value.”
The king offered any city in his kingdom. But the Indian declined, saying, “I can only give you my horse in exchange for the hand of your daughter.”
Eyes widen throughout the anderun. A startled gasp causes Gordon to become aware of the growing audience. Astonished, he counts fifteen already.
Anisa looks around and sees the many captivated faces. Smiling, she decides to give them what they want— entertainment . Her rich voice becomes even more animated as she begins to enact the characters in the story.
Though the king decided the bargain was fair, he insisted that the prince be allowed to test its powers. The Indian agreed and helped the prince to mount the horse. But before he could show the prince how to guide it, the prince turned the peg. He and the horse were soon out of sight.
After a long time, the prince had still failed to return home. The king grew angry with the Indian. “If the prince is not safely back in three months,” he said. “I shall have your head.” The king threw the Indian into prison.
Meanwhile, the prince landed safely on the terraced roof of a huge palace. Bravely he set out to explore, finding himself at last in a magnificent chamber full of sleeping women, all lying on low couches… except one, who was on a sofa. This one, he knew, must be the princess.
The kelauntar’s other wives are intoxicated by fantasies of a gallant prince finding them asleep. The delicious dream makes them shudder with delight. The flame of their silent passion is fanned by the nearness of Gordon, the mysterious foreigner, a man more exotic and beautiful than anyone but Anisa. Gordon becomes their prince, their unattainable prize, their unrequited
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