The Shaving of Shagpat | Page 8

two.'
Nevertheless Shibli Bagarag urged him, and he winked, and
gesticulated, and pointed to his head, crying, 'Fall not, O man of the
nicety of measure, into the trap of error; for 'tis I that am a barber, and a
rarity in this city, even Shibli Bagarag of Shiraz! Know me nephew of
the renowned Baba Mustapha, chief barber to the Court of Persia.
Languishest thou not for my art? Lo! with three sweeps I'll give thee a
clean poll, all save the Identical! and I can discern and save it; fear me
not, nor distrust my skill and the cunning that is mine.'
When he had heard Shibli Bagarag to a close, the countenance of
Shagpat waxed fiery, as it had been flame kindled by travellers at night
in a thorny bramble-bush, and he ruffled, and heaved, and was as when
dense jungle-growths are stirred violently by the near approach of a
wild animal in his fury, shouting in short breaths, 'A barber! a barber!
Is't so? can it be? To me? A barber! O thou, thou reptile! filthy thing! A
barber! O dog! A barber? What? when I bid fair for the highest honours
known? O sacrilegious wretch! monster! How? are the Afrites jealous,
that they send thee to jibe me?'

Thereupon he set up a cry for his wife, and that woman rushed to him
from an inner room, and fell upon Shibli Bagarag, belabouring him.
So, when she was weary of this, she said, 'O light of my eyes! O golden
crop and adorable man! what hath he done to thee?'
Shagpat answered, ''Tis a barber! and he hath sworn to shave me, and
leave me not save shorn!'
Hardly had Shagpat spoken this, when she became limp with the
hearing of it. Then Shibli Bagarag slunk from the shop; but without the
crowd had increased, seeing an altercation, and as he took to his heels
they followed him, and there was uproar in the streets of the city and in
the air above them, as of raging Genii, he like a started quarry doubling
this way and that, and at the corners of streets and open places,
speeding on till there was no breath in his body, the cry still after him
that he had bearded Shagpat. At last they came up with him, and
belaboured him each and all; it was a storm of thwacks that fell on the
back of Shibli Bagarag. When they had wearied themselves in this
fashion, they took him as had he been a stray bundle or a damaged bale,
and hurled him from the gates of the city into the wilderness once
more.
Now, when he was alone, he staggered awhile and then flung himself to
the earth, looking neither to the right nor to the left, nor above. All he
could think was, 'O accursed old woman!' and this he kept repeating to
himself for solace; as the poet says:
'Tis sure the special privilege of hate, To curse the authors of our evil
state.
As he was thus complaining, behold the very old woman before him!
And she wheezed, and croaked, and coughed, and shook herself, and
screwed her face into a pleasing pucker, and assumed womanish airs,
and swayed herself, like as do the full moons of the harem when the
eye of the master is upon them. Having made an end of these
prettinesses, she said, in a tone of soft insinuation, 'O youth, nephew of
the barber, look upon me.'

Shibli Bagarag knew her voice, and he would not look, thinking, 'Oh,
what a dreadful old woman is this! just calling on her name in
detestation maketh her present to us.' So the old woman, seeing him
resolute to shun her, leaned to him, and put one hand to her dress, and
squatted beside him, and said, 'O youth, thou hast been thwacked!'
He groaned, lifting not his face, nor saying aught. Then said she, 'Art
thou truly in search of great things, O youth?'
Still he groaned, answering no syllable. And she continued, ''Tis surely
in sweet friendliness I ask. Art thou not a fair youth, one to entice a
damsel to perfect friendliness?'
Louder yet did he groan at her words, thinking, 'A damsel, verily!' So
the old woman said, 'I wot thou art angry with me; but now look up, O
nephew of the barber! no time for vexation. What says the poet?--
"Cares the warrior for his wounds When the steed in battle bounds?"
Moreover:
"Let him who grasps the crown strip not for shame, Lest he expose
what gain'd it blow and maim!"
So be it with thee and thy thwacking, O foolish youth! Hide it from
thyself, thou silly one! What! thou hast been thwacked, and refusest the
fruit