Persian
robe, and in these Baba Mustapha arrayed himself. Then called he for the
twenty-and-seven slaves, and they were ranged, some to go before, some to
follow him. And he was exalted, and made the cap of Shiraz nod in his
conceit, crying, 'Am I not leader in this complot? Wullahy! all bow to me
and acknowledge it.' Then, to check himself, he called out sternly to the
slaves, 'Ho ye! forward to the mansion of Shagpat; and pass at a slow
pace through the streets of the city--solemnly, gravely, as before a
potentate; then will the people inquire of ye, Who't is ye marshal, and
what mighty one? and ye will answer, He's from the court of Shiraz,
nothing less than a Vizier--bearing homage to Shagpat, even this dish of
pomegranate grain.'

So they said, 'To hear is to obey.'

Upon that he waved his hand and stalked majestically, and they descended
from the roof into the street, criers running in front to clear the way.
When Baba Mustapha was hidden from view by a corner of the street, Noorna
shrank in her white shoulders and laughed, and was like a flashing pearl
as she swayed and dimpled with laughter. And she cried, 'True are those
words of the poet, and I testify to them in the instance of Baba
Mustapha:

"With feathers of the cock, I'll fashion a vain creature;
With feathers of the owl, I'll make a judge in feature";

Is not the barber elate and lofty? He goeth forth to the mastery of this
Event as go many, armed with nought other than their own conceit: and
'tis written:

"Fools from their fate seek not to urge:
The coxcomb carrieth his scourge."'

So Feshnavat smoothed his face, and said, 'Is't not also written?--

"Oft may the fall of fools make wise men moan!
Too often hangs the house on one loose stone!"

'Tis so, O Noorna, my daughter, and I am as a reed shaken by the wind of
apprehensiveness, and doubt in me is a deep root as to the issue of this
undertaking, for the wrath of the King will be terrible, and the clamour
of the people soundeth in my ears already. If Shibli Bagarag fail in one
stroke, where be we? 'Tis certain I knew not the might in Shagpat when I
strove with him, and he's powerful beyond the measure of man's subtlety;
and yonder flies a rook without fellow--an omen; and all's ominous, and
ominous of ill: and I marked among the troop of slaves that preceded Baba
Mustapha one that squinted, and that's an omen; and, O my daughter, I
counsel that thou by thy magic sp