You may paint my brows as much as you please, said my
brother; I agree to that, because I can wash it off again: but to
shave me, you know I must not allow that. How can I appear abroad
again without mustachos? Beware of refusing what is asked of you,
said the old woman: you will spoil your affairs, which go on now
as well as heart can wish. The lady loves you, and has a mind to
make you happy: and will you, for a nasty whisker, renounce the
most delicious favour that man can obtain. Backbarah listened to
the old woman, and without saying one word, went to a chamber
with the slave, where they painted his eye-brows with red, cut
off his whisker, and went to do the like with his beard. My
brother's patience began to wear out; O! said he, I will never
part with my beard. The slave told him, that it was to no purpose
to have parted with his whiskers, if he would not also part with
his beard, which could never agree with a woman's dress; and she
wondered that a man, who was on the point of enjoying the finest
lady in Bagdad, should have any regard to his beard. The old
woman threatened him with the loss of the young lady's favour, so
that at last he let them do what they would. When he was dressed
like a woman, they brought him before the young lady, who laughed
so heartily when she saw him, that she fell backward on the sofa
where she sat.
Pages:
546
547
548
549
550
551
552
553
554
555
556
557
558
559
560
561
562
563
564
565
566
567
568
569
570