The beggar pricked up his ears, and Jammal hurried to go away, just in case. Meanwhile the djinni was pontificating: “You must finally understand: I am your Conscience, not of your qadi or of this cheat! I have vowed to repay you, and I’ll fulfil my oath by any means.”
A groan of despair broke from Jammal’s throat: “O Allah, why?! For what sins?!”
For four days the merchant restrained himself. Tried not to answer the djinni in front of people, lest he would become reputed as a madman. Clenching his teeth, he tolerated all the reproofs. It appeared that he, a poor merchant, would perform improper deeds a hundred times a day, if not all the time. At least, thus considered Stagnash Abd-al-Rashid. Yet while on account of rejecting to give charity the djinni only grumbled squeamishly at his ear, when the merchant came to the city qadi in order to give him the habitual bribe for the current month (all the same it was cheaper than paying the taxes in their full), the djinni literally boiled up. “How can you indulge this thief and embezzler?! Spit in his eyes! Don’t give him money! Inform the mayor immediately! Let him put the qadi in prison! Let him cut off his ungodly right hand! Don’t you dare defile your honest name with a foul bribe! Pay your taxes and sleep well! And you should unmask the villain who has the insolence to take the post of qadi. The entire city will thank you!”
It was very hard to refrain and not answer the foolish djinni. However, Jammal perfectly understood what would happen if he’d argued with an empty space in front of the qadi’s eyes. For the vile Conscience remained invisible for other people. Nevertheless, while receiving the money the qadi was looking at the merchant suspiciously. Either Jammal couldn’t control his expression completely, or evil tongues had time to inform the qadi about the strange behaviour of the merchant, Allah save his mind...
That was just what he needed!
Until the end of the week the merchant restrained his anger and behaved as before, ignoring the reproaches of Conscience. However, except for the djinni Jammal had as much as three wives, and none of them was noted to have a compliant character. And if the whole three of them, uniting temporarily, badgered their husband together – it was even harder to oppose them than the tedious Abd-al-Rashid! The old slave woman Zukhrah, who had served even the deceased father of Jammal, didn’t satisfy the women as a servant anymore. She became decrepit, weak-sighted. You would call for her and get no answer. In short, they needed a new slave woman in the house.
For this the wives badgered their beloved husband.
The merchant understood himself the wives were right, yet he delayed the purchase as much as possible. He didn’t want to spend the money. Besides, were he to buy a young and pretty one – there would be no end for jealousy. Were he to buy an old and pockmarked one – a scandal again: skinflint, niggard! Yet he had nothing to do about it; so early in the morning Jammal went to his acquaintance Tyafanak, a slave-trader.
The djinni, naturally, followed.
Even along the way he started nagging: you’ll buy a new slave woman, he was saying, and what about the old one? You’ll throw her out, it’s written all over you! She had served your father and mother, wiped your snot, dressed and combed your wives, swaddled your children – and you, as repayment... Jammal went on his way, clenching his teeth, yet the Conscience’s reproaches did their dirty deed gradually: to the slave-trader’s house the merchant came quite irritated.
Tyafanak came out to meet him in person, invited him to drink coffee with sweets. While the host and the guest, reclining on soft pillows, were drinking coffee and talking, the servants set out in the yard the slave women meant for sale. The merchant was observing the women captiously. This one is a bit too old; that one is squinting – must be obstinate; this one seems to be good, even winked me stealthily. Maybe she thinks I’ll buy her for love amusements. You may dream of it: the wives will drive the both of us into the grave... While that one, with a child in her arms, will probably do. She’s looking at the ground, eyes lowered; middle-aged, unsightly but not ugly...
Tyafanak understood the guest’s choice immediately. “Ay, what an eye you have, my dear! An eagle eye! And only one hundred and fifty dinars. One hundred and twenty for the woman, thirty for the child.”
“For Allah’s sake, my dear! For one hundred and fifty dinars I’ll buy a young beauty! I need her not for a harem but for house-cleaning. Ninety dinars. And keep the child for yourself.”
“Excuse me, my dear, but she’s for sale together with the child. All right, one hundred and thirty five for both. Don’t you understand your profit? For this price you’re buying two slaves at once!” Tyafanak demonstrated two thick fingers to be more convincing. “The boy will grow up, and you’ll get an excellent servant. Take them, you won’t be wrong!”
“Until he grows up I’ll become old! I won’t have the money to feed him until then! While his mother will run to her son every now and then, ignoring her work. No, I need only her. Ninety five dinars.”
It was then that the djinni opened his mouth – as usual, in the most improper moment: “What’s wrong with you? Even this slave-trader’s heart is kinder than yours! Separating a mother from her child?! Listen,” Abd-al-Rashid suddenly moved closer to the merchant, whispering enthusiastically right into his ear. “You have a possibility to do a really good deed. This woman will thank you all her life! She has been captured by bandits near her native village Nashitze, not far from Osiak. Redeem the poor woman, free her and let her go home together with her son! Come on, make up your mind!”
From such insolence Jammal’s mind darkened for a moment, and forgetting where he was he screamed in answer, spitting: “Have you gone crazy, son of a snake and a jackal?! What Nashitze, what Osiak?! Have you decided to ruin me? To make a fool out of me in front of people?! Get out, you beast, leave me alone!”
Tyafanak’s servants, stunned, were looking at the cursing guest; Tyafanak himself, who had taken the insults personally, was slowly reddening with rage; while the woman with the child, having heard familiar words in the customer’s speech, fell to his feet, sobbing, and only with difficulty could be dragged away. The child was crying aloud. To the child’s screams Jammal, disgraced, hastily left the slave-trader’s house.
Having discovered that he came back without a new slave woman, all three of his wives assailed their husband with reproaches:
“Surely you haven’t even gone anywhere!”
“You’ve been sticking in a coffee-shop, wasting money!”
“Gadding about, searching for whores!”
“Throw the old woman out tomorrow!”
“Throw her out! She’s gone totally mad, the witch!”
Jammal spat with the irritation, shouted at his wives and categorically refused to throw out the old woman. “I’ll leave her to spite them!” he thought. “Who has ever seen that wives would rule their husband? It will be as I say.”
However, the djinni, strange as it was, kept silent throughout this ugly scene, and it seemed to the merchant that Abd-al-Rashid’s silence was an understanding one. It may be even said, approving.
Nevertheless, it didn’t save Jammal from Abd-al-Rashid’s importunity during the next days. Who could have thought there were so many ordinary deeds that Conscience may consider improper?! And after a week, when the merchant was about to go to sleep after a day of work, the djinni appeared before him once again and sat down opposite to him. “It’s time to sum up,” announced the villain. “So, during this week you have been unfaithful to your wives twice; and it wouldn’t be so bad if you were only unfaithful – I’m a male too, I’m able to understand you! But you have spent on wenches the money that has been put aside for gifts to Fatima, Rubike and Balah, and this is truly very bad! You have bribed the mayor Abdullah, and in doing this you’ve humiliated yourself and encouraged him for further extortion; you’ve cheated on your customers, you’ve refused to loan the needy weaver Omer Chitian, you’ve been foul-mouthed, you’ve hit your junior wife on her back with a chibouk... By the way, do you know why your wives are so quarrelsome? Because they desire your love and care! How often do you share bed with each of them? Shame on you, Jammal – to avoid your faithful wives while wasting your strength and money on loose women!”