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Then, of the excess of my chagrin, I betook myself to the Tigris and wrapping my face in my gown, cast myself into the river.
The bystanders saw me and said, ‘Sure, [he hath done] this because of some great trouble that hath betided him.’ So they cast themselves in after me and bringing me ashore, questioned me of my case. I told them what had befallen me and they condoled with me. Then an old man of them came to me and said, ‘Thou hast lost thy money, but why goest thou about to do away thy life and become of the people of the fire?[1] Arise, come with me, that I may see thine abode.’ So I went with him to my house and he sat with me awhile, till I became calmer, when I thanked him and he went away. When he was gone, I was like to kill myself, but bethought me of the life to come and the fire; so I fled forth my house to one of my friends and told him what had befallen me. He wept for pity of me and gave me fifty dinars, saying, ‘Take my advice and go out forthright from Baghdad and let this provide thee till thy heart be diverted from the love of her and thou forget her. Thou art a man of letters and clerkship and thy handwriting is good and thy breeding excellent: seek out, then, whom thou wilt of the viceroys[2] and throw thyself on his bounty. It may be God will reunite thee with thy slave-girl.’
I hearkened to his words (and indeed my mind was fortified and I was somewhat comforted) and resolved to betake myself to Wasit,[3] where I had kinsfolk. So I went down to the riverside, where I saw a ship moored and the sailors carrying goods and rich stuffs on board. I asked them to take me with them and carry me to Wasit; but they replied, ‘We cannot do that, for the ship belongs to
