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In truth, much of Bacon's life was passed in a visionary world, amidst things as strange as any that are described in the Arabian Tales, or in those romances on which the curate and barber of Don Quixote's village performed so cruel an auto-de-fe, amidst buildings more sumptuous than the palace of Aladdin, fountains more wonderful than the golden water of Parizade, conveyances more rapid than the hippogryph of Ruggiero, arms more formidable than the lance of Astolfo, remedies more efficacious than the balsam of Fierabras.
"Break off a twig, and plant it in your garden, and it will take root, and grow into a magnificent tree." When the Princess Parizade held in her hands the three wonders promised her by the old woman, she said to the bird: "All that is not enough. It was owing to you that my brothers became black stones.
In truth much of Bacon's life was passed in a visionary world amid things as strange as any that are described in the "Arabian Tales" . . . amid buildings more sumptuous than the palace of Aladdin, fountains more wonderful than the golden water of Parizade, conveyances more rapid than the hippogryph of Ruggiero, arms more formidable than the lance of Astolfo, remedies more efficacious than the balsam of Fierabras.
"What is the matter, my sister?" asked Prince Bahman; "why are you so grave? Are you ill? Or has anything happened?" Princess Parizade did not answer directly, but at length she raised her eyes, and replied that there was nothing wrong. "But there must be something," persisted Prince Bahman, "for you to have changed so much during the short time we have been absent.
In truth, much of Bacon's life was passed in a visionary world amid things as strange as any that are described in the ARABIAN TALES... amid buildings more sumptuous than the palace of Aladdin, fountains more wonderful than the golden water of Parizade, conveyances more rapid than the hippogryph of Ruggiero, arms more formidable than the lance of Astolfo, remedies more efficacious than the balsam of Fierabras.
The story is also told in the highlands of Scotland, and some portions of it will be recognized by the reader as incidents in the Arabian tale of the Princess Parizade.
Prince Perviz's grief at his brother's loss was not less than that of Princess Parizade, but he did not waste his time on useless lamentations. "My sister," he said, "why should you think the old woman was deceiving you about these treasures, and what would have been her object in doing so!
As the children grew older their beauty and air of distinction became more and more marked, and their manners had all the grace and ease that is proper to people of high birth. The princes had been named by their foster-father Bahman and Perviz, after two of the ancient kings of Persia, while the princess was called Parizade, or the child of the genii.
He drew his sword, and turned to avenge himself, but almost before he had realised that there was nobody there, he and his horse were two black stones. Not a morning had passed since Prince Perviz had ridden away without Princess Parizade telling her beads, and at night she even hung them round her neck, so that if she woke she could assure herself at once of her brother's safety.
It all happened as the Sultan had foreseen, and the two brothers appeared in their sister's apartments just as she was in the act of stepping into bed, and told their tale. The Princess Parizade was much disturbed at the news, and did not conceal her feelings.
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