Chapter XVIII

 

 

Selim and Osman had arrived. Laure’s and Sophie’s eyes had already assured them of success in their request, but they soon had a private conversation that completed their desires. The result was that they promised to allow their new spouses all the liberty they could desire; that, renouncing in that respect the customs of the nation, they would follow Nadir’s example in every respect; and that, in the event that their wives had grounds for complaint, and that they persisted for three years thereafter in wanting to separate from them, they would have no further rights over them and would be obliged to repudiate them—which they swore to observe on the souls of their forefathers and all possible obligations.

Selim and Osman loved too honestly not to accept these conditions gladly. Besides which, they could only contribute to their own happiness. Often, the dread of losing the person one loves maintains love.

Nadir therefore promised them that they would go to the judge the following day to satisfy the customary ceremonies.

While the sensible Fatima and the tender Mirza discussed the nocturnal expedition and tried to reassure one another mutually, a young Emir and an old Sangiac,25 friends of Nadir, arrived. The company reassembled in the music room. They were almost all skillful musicians. Nadir’s wives had talents of that genre and Nadir played several instruments successfully himself.

The Physicist saw that they were preparing a concert. He was not very passionate about music. The lugubrious sound of the monochord26 pleased him as much as the most beautiful arietta. He went home, to dream skeptically about the attractive principles that sounds can occasion, being only percussions and repercussions of agitated air.

Grasacido and the Doctor, after having slept for some time, woke up, looked at one another, meditated together on the great events of life, and calculated that they would be much better off at home until the next day.

Three hour had already gone by since the Philosopher’s departure, and Fatima was singing the harmonious piece “Cruel, you flee from me, etc.”27 She rendered it with the most touching expression. Mirza, who was accompanying her on the harpsichord, was the first to perceive that the Philosopher had come into the room.

“There he is,” she said, in a low voice, to her friend.

Immediately, Fatima, forgetting eight bars, came promptly to the passage: “Ah, I see him again, etc.” and Mirza smiled. The accompanists took it badly. The old Sangiac was plucking the strings of his bass furiously. They were, however, busy trying to repair the transition. Although the Philosopher had come in with the delicacy and silence of a music-lover, Nadir, who noticed him, finally called a general halt.

“I fear,” he said, addressing Ormasis, “that this amusement might not be to your taste.”

“My friend,” the Philosopher replied, beauty, precision and harmony are the three graces of Nature—how can one be insensible to their charms? I have always loved music, and if that harp you are holding were not in such good hands...”

“Oh, my dear Ormasis, please...”

“No, I shall not disarm you...”

Nadir insists; Ormasis accepts—and Fatima, condemned to begin her arietta again, sees with pleasure that her friend possesses agreeable talents.

Surprise soon follows. Ormasis plays a prelude. The quality of the sounds, the precision of his hand, the accuracy and multiplicity of the chords reveal a superior talent, and announce to the symphonists that their parts have become unnecessary. They listen in silence. Ormasis, much more at his ease, is no longer required to follow the composer’s accompaniments strictly. He yields to his imagination, and that imagination is fecund. He follows with an infinite artistry not merely the inflections of the voice but the characters of the expressions.

Sometimes plaintive and stifled sounds present the image of dolor; sometimes faint sounds are lost in the distance; one listens, and doubts that they still exist. Gradually, other, more assured sounds gradually bring back sensations of hope; the chords and harmonies multiply, and finally characterize the most animated joy.

The arietta had never previously been what it seemed then, and Fatima had never sung with as much soul.

Oh, divine melody, when your charms are presented with so much verity, the most poorly-organized being—which is to say, one whose nerves are taut with the greatest dissonance—will always be seduced by the impression they cause! Imagine how enthused the listeners were.

The old Sangiac, a great music-lower, could not find compliments sufficiently impressive. Nadir, delighted by pleasure and astonishment, had to endure the old Governor’s questions. “Who is that man? Where does he come from? What does he do? Where is he going? He’s an angel! Oh, Sir, that was divine. Tomorrow, I’ll talk to the Emperor. One ought to bestow a dazzling fortune on a subject of such consequence.”

“There’s no need, Governor. Besides, his talent is nothing by comparison with his merit. He’s an exceedingly enlightened philosopher...”

“What quality of sounds!”

“Who has principles of a clarity...”

“Yes, sounds of such clarity...”

“Can one be grateful enough for sublime instruction that elevate the soul...”

“Yes, Sir, he has elevated me...”

“But we’re talking at cross purposes, Governor. I tell you that he’s a true philosopher, a great thinker.”

“Ah!” the Governor replied. “I understand…a philosopher…that’s of no consequence. What harmony, Sir! Ask him to play again.”

Mirza and the other women were already begging Ormasis to accompany them in an arietta too. He gladly yielded to their insistence, always with the same success, although in different genres.

Seeing that he was amusing everyone, Ormasis offered to play a solo in the garden. The moonlight was beautiful. There was a breeze. That was what he wanted. He asked that a small stage be set up, about five feet above the audience, which was soon prepared.

Scarcely had Ormasis begun his piece than everyone was gripped by a new pleasure. The waves of the air caused surprising effects. The sounds, agitated in the atmosphere, formed a marvelous harmony. Sometimes it was an angelic murmur that was scarcely audible in distant spaces. Suddenly, it was a noisy concert, whose energetic and divine chords would have transported the most insensitive soul. In sum, those harmonious waves caused inexpressible sensations. People were afraid to breathe. They experienced that sweet oppression of which the least musical of humans is sometimes not the master.

The old Governor could no longer contain himself. Scarcely had the piece finished than he threw himself to his knees. “O my God,” he said, “if it is true that we experience such delightful pleasures in the other world, take me—I am no longer afraid to die!”

That transport greatly amused the company. Ormasis was heaped with thanks, and the fear of importuning him had difficulty overcoming the desire that everyone had to hear him again.