The Story of the Second Calendar, Son of a King


"Madam," said the young man, addressing Zobeida, "if you wish
to know how I lost my right eye, I shall have to tell you the story
of my whole life."

I was scarcely more than a baby, when the king my father,
finding me unusually quick and clever for my age, turned his
thoughts to my education. I was taught first to read and write,
and then to learn the Koran, which is the basis of our holy religion,
and the better to understand it, I read with my tutors the ablest
commentators on its teaching, and committed to memory all the
traditions respecting the Prophet, which have been gathered from
the mouth of those who were his friends. I also learnt history,
and was instructed in poetry, versification, geography, chronology,
and in all the outdoor exercises in which every prince should excel.
But what I liked best of all was writing Arabic characters,
and in this I soon surpassed my masters, and gained a reputation
in this branch of knowledge that reached as far as India itself.

Now the Sultan of the Indies, curious to see a young prince
with such strange tastes, sent an ambassador to my father,
laden with rich presents, and a warm invitation to visit his court.
My father, who was deeply anxious to secure the friendship of so
powerful a monarch, and held besides that a little travel would
greatly improve my manners and open my mind, accepted gladly,