He held the introduction of the Zamakhshari Arabic grammar in his hand, and was repeating:—­“Zaraba Zaidun Amranwa—­Zaid beat Amru and is the assailant of Amru.”  I said:  “O my son! the Khowarazm and Khatayi sovereigns have made peace, and does war thus subsist between Zaid and Amru?” He smiled, and asked me the place of my nativity.  I answered:  “The territory of Shiraz.”  He said:  “Do you recollect any of Sa’di’s compositions?” I replied:  “I am enamoured with the reader of the syntax, who, taking offence, assails me in like manner as Zaid does Amru.  And Zaid, when read Zaidin, cannot raise his head; and how canst thou give a zammah to a word accented with a kasrah?”

He reflected a little within himself, and said:  “In these parts we have much of Sa’di’s compositions in the Persian language; if you will speak in that dialect we shall more readily comprehend you, for you should address mankind according to their capacities.”

I replied:  “Whilst thy passion was that of studying grammar, all trace of reason was erased from our hearts.  Yes! the lover’s heart is fallen a prey to thy snare:  we are occupied about thee, and thou art taken up with Amru and Zaid.”

On the morrow, which had been fixed on as the period of our stay, some of my fellow-travellers had perhaps told him such a one is Sa’di; for I saw that he came running up, and expressed his affection and regret, saying:  “Why did you not during all this time tell us that a certain person is Sa’di, that I might have shown my gratitude by offering my service to your reverence.”  I answered:  “In thy presence I cannot even say that I am I!”—­He said:  “How good it were if you would tarry here for a few days, that we might devote ourselves to your service.”  I replied:  “That cannot be, as this adventure will explain to you:—­In the hilly region I saw a great and holy man, who was content in living retired from the world in a cavern.  I said:  ’Why dost thou not come into the city, that thy heart might be relieved from a load of servitude?’ He replied:  ’In it there dwell some wonderful and angel-faced charmers, and where the path is miry, elephants may find it slippery.’—­Having delivered this speech, we kissed each other’s head and face, and took our leaves:—­What profits it to kiss our mistress’s cheek, and with the same breath to bid her adieu.  Thou mightest say that the apple had taken leave of its friends by having this cheek red and that cheek yellow:—­Were I not to die of grief on that day I say farewell, thou wouldst charge me with being insincere in my attachments.”

XVII