The shopper put the oud on the chair and hurried to her, taking rose water to revive her and covering her with her shawl. The mistress of the house stopped beating the dogs when she reached three hundred strokes and she threw the whip on to the floor, kneeled down and held the quivering dogs in an embrace, weeping herself. She produced a handkerchief from her pocket, dried the dogs’ tears, pleading with them to stop crying. She kissed them on the head and then gave them to the porter so he could take them back to the closet, and hurried to the doorkeeper, embracing her, wrapping her in her coat and the three girls wept quietly.
Silence fell upon the room, but the expressions of the seven guests spoke volumes about their revulsion and disgust. The questions gnawed at them: what evil had befallen the doorkeeper’s body and why had the mistress of the house beaten the two bitches until they nearly fainted and yet wept for them, kissed them, and wiped away their tears?
The mistress of the house and the shopper helped the doorkeeper to stand and took her to the closet, where they changed her dress, leaving the seven men fidgeting in their seats. The merchant who had spoken before whispered to his friend, who gestured that he should remain silent, pointing to the inscription on the door, but the merchant felt that he could no longer bear what he had witnessed. “Something must be done,” he whispered to his friend in anger.
“You must remember what we have promised the three ladies,” his friend replied calmly.
But the merchant turned to the dervishes and asked them, “Can you please explain to us what is going on?”
One of the dervishes replied, “By God—we came here just a short while before you, and now we wish that we had never set foot in this house and witnessed such heartrending sights but instead sought refuge anywhere else—even on the rubbish heap of this great city!”
Hearing this, the merchant winked at the porter and asked him the same question.
“You’re asking me? I haven’t set eyes on this house before today, although I was born in Baghdad. But I do know one thing that you do not. These ladies live alone, without a man.”
“Did you say that they live without a man? Then listen to me, all of you,” the merchant said. “Since we are seven men and they are three women, let us ask them for an explanation. If they refuse us then we shall take them by force.”
The men all agreed, except for one of the other merchants, who protested, “Have you all forgotten that we are their guests and that we agreed and swore to adhere to their conditions? And who knows why they have chosen to keep to themselves?”
But the first merchant was determined to know the truth and he continued to try to convince the porter that he must find out what was going on.
The mistress of the house, who now, with the other girls, was behaving as if nothing had happened, became aware of the men arguing, and asked, “What is the reason for this clamour? What is the matter?”
The porter gathered all of his courage and said, “The gentlemen wish to know why you beat the two bitches until you hadno strength left and yet then wept for them, kissed them, wiped away their tears. And they wish to know why the lady tore off her clothes to reveal such terrible marks on her body? Why had she too been flogged with a whip like a man?”
Hearing this, the mistress of the house turned to the men. “Is what the porter tells me true?”
“Yes,” they all replied—all except for the one merchant.
The mistress of the house’s face darkened with rage. “Did you not agree to ask us nothing? You have wronged us gravely, and yet we too are at fault. We were mistaken to have opened our doors to you and welcomed you.”
She struck the floor three times, crying out, “Come at once.”
In no time at all a secret door opened and seven black men emerged, waving their swords in their hands. Each quickly seized one of the guests, and
Silence fell upon the room, but the expressions of the seven guests spoke volumes about their revulsion and disgust. The questions gnawed at them: what evil had befallen the doorkeeper’s body and why had the mistress of the house beaten the two bitches until they nearly fainted and yet wept for them, kissed them, and wiped away their tears?
The mistress of the house and the shopper helped the doorkeeper to stand and took her to the closet, where they changed her dress, leaving the seven men fidgeting in their seats. The merchant who had spoken before whispered to his friend, who gestured that he should remain silent, pointing to the inscription on the door, but the merchant felt that he could no longer bear what he had witnessed. “Something must be done,” he whispered to his friend in anger.
“You must remember what we have promised the three ladies,” his friend replied calmly.
But the merchant turned to the dervishes and asked them, “Can you please explain to us what is going on?”
One of the dervishes replied, “By God—we came here just a short while before you, and now we wish that we had never set foot in this house and witnessed such heartrending sights but instead sought refuge anywhere else—even on the rubbish heap of this great city!”
Hearing this, the merchant winked at the porter and asked him the same question.
“You’re asking me? I haven’t set eyes on this house before today, although I was born in Baghdad. But I do know one thing that you do not. These ladies live alone, without a man.”
“Did you say that they live without a man? Then listen to me, all of you,” the merchant said. “Since we are seven men and they are three women, let us ask them for an explanation. If they refuse us then we shall take them by force.”
The men all agreed, except for one of the other merchants, who protested, “Have you all forgotten that we are their guests and that we agreed and swore to adhere to their conditions? And who knows why they have chosen to keep to themselves?”
But the first merchant was determined to know the truth and he continued to try to convince the porter that he must find out what was going on.
The mistress of the house, who now, with the other girls, was behaving as if nothing had happened, became aware of the men arguing, and asked, “What is the reason for this clamour? What is the matter?”
The porter gathered all of his courage and said, “The gentlemen wish to know why you beat the two bitches until you hadno strength left and yet then wept for them, kissed them, wiped away their tears. And they wish to know why the lady tore off her clothes to reveal such terrible marks on her body? Why had she too been flogged with a whip like a man?”
Hearing this, the mistress of the house turned to the men. “Is what the porter tells me true?”
“Yes,” they all replied—all except for the one merchant.
The mistress of the house’s face darkened with rage. “Did you not agree to ask us nothing? You have wronged us gravely, and yet we too are at fault. We were mistaken to have opened our doors to you and welcomed you.”
She struck the floor three times, crying out, “Come at once.”
In no time at all a secret door opened and seven black men emerged, waving their swords in their hands. Each quickly seized one of the guests, and
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