Part 24 (1/2)
”Whether you approve or not, it's my intention to marry her.”
”a.s.suredly she will not marry thee so long as her father remaineth a mule.”
”There I agree with you. But is that your notion of doing me a good turn?”
”I did not consider thy interest in this matter.”
”Then will you be good enough to consider it now? I have pledged my word that he shall be restored to his original form. Not only my happiness is at stake, but my honour.”
”By failure to perform the impossible none can lose honour. And this is a thing that cannot be undone.”
”Cannot be undone?” repeated Horace, feeling a cold clutch at his heart.
”Why?”
”Because,” said the Jinnee, sullenly, ”I have forgotten the way.”
”Nonsense!” retorted Horace; ”I don't believe it. Why,” he urged, descending to flattery, ”you're such a clever old Johnny--I beg your pardon, I meant such a clever old _Jinnee_--you can do anything, if you only give your mind to it. Just look at the way you changed this house back again to what it was. Marvellous!”
”That was the veriest trifle,” said Fakrash, though he was obviously pleased by this tribute to his talent; ”this would be a different affair altogether.”
”But child's play to _you_!” insinuated Horace. ”Come, you know very well you can do it if you only choose.”
”It may be as thou sayest. But I do not choose.”
”Then I think,” said Horace, ”that, considering the obligation you admit yourself you are under to me, I have a right to know the reason--the _real_ reason--why you refuse.”
”Thy claim is not without justice,” answered the Jinnee, after a pause, ”nor can I decline to gratify thee.”
”That's right,” cried Horace; ”I knew you'd see it in the proper light when it was once put to you. Now, don't lose any more time, but restore that unfortunate man at once, as you've promised.”
”Not so,” said the Jinnee; ”I promised thee a reason for my refusal--and that thou shalt have. Know then, O my son, that this indiscreet one had, by some vile and unhallowed arts, divined the hidden meaning of what was written upon the seal of the bottle wherein I was confined, and was preparing to reveal the same unto all men.”
”What would it matter to you if he did?”
”Much--for the writing contained a false and lying record of my actions.”
”If it is all lies, it can't do you any harm. Why not treat them with the contempt they deserve?”
”They are not _all_ lies,” the Jinnee admitted reluctantly.
”Well, never mind. Whatever you've done, you've expiated it by this time.”
”Now that Suleyman is no more, it is my desire to seek out my kinsmen of the Green Jinn, and live out my days in amity and honour. How can that be if they hear my name execrated by all mortals?”
”n.o.body would think of execrating you about an affair three thousand years old. It's too stale a scandal.”
”Thou speakest without understanding. I tell thee that if men knew but the half of my misdoings,” said Fakrash, in a tone not altogether free from a kind of sombre complacency, ”the noise of them would rise even unto the uppermost regions, and scorn and loathing would be my portion.”
”Oh, it's not so bad as all that,” said Horace, who had a private impression that the Jinnee's ”past” would probably turn out to be chiefly made up of peccadilloes. ”But, anyway, I'm sure the Professor will readily agree to keep silence about it; and, as you have of course, got the seal in your own possession again----”
”Nay; the seal is still in his possession, and it is naught to me where it is deposited,” said Fakrash, ”since the only mortal who hath deciphered it is now a dumb animal.”