But a chance came to me of stealing a horse, the owner of which confessed he had himself stolen it; and by selling it I hoped to add to the money I had obtained as a dervish, and thereby get into some situation where I might gain my bread honestly.  Unfortunately, when I had reached Tehran, the real owner of the horse appeared.  I was compelled to refund to the dealer the money I had been paid for the horse, and had some difficulty, when we went before the magistrate at the bazaar, in proving that I was not a thief.  I had heard that the court poet, with whom I had formed a friendship during his captivity among the Turcomans, had escaped and returned to Tehran.  To him, therefore, I repaired, and through his good offices I secured a post as assistant to Mirza Ahmak, the king’s chief physician.

Although the physician was willing to have my services, he was too avaricious to pay me anything for them; and I would not have remained long with him had I not fallen in love.  In the heat of summer I made any bed in the open air, in a corner of a terrace that overlooked an inner court where the women’s apartments were situated.  I came presently to exchanging glances with a beautiful Curdish slave.  From glances we came to conversation.  At length, when Zeenab—­for that was her name—­was alone in the women’s apartments, she would invite me down from the terrace, and we would spend long hours feasting and singing together.

But our felicity was destined to be interrupted.  The Shah was about to depart for his usual summer campaign, and, according to his wont, paid a round of visits to noblemen, thereby reaping for himself a harvest of presents.  The physician, being reputed rich, was marked out as prey fit for the royal grasp.  The news of the honour to be paid him left him half-elated at the distinction, half-trembling at the ruin that awaited his finances.  The Shah came with his full suite, dined gorgeously at my master’s expense, and, as is customary, visited the women’s apartments.  Presently came the news that my master had presented the Shah with Zeenab!  She was to be trained as a dancing-girl, and was to dance before the Shah on his return from the campaign.

When Zeenab was thus removed out of my reach, I had no inducement to remain in the physician’s service.  I therefore sought and secured a post as nasakchi, or officer of the chief executioner.  I was now a person of authority with the crowd, and used my stick so freely upon their heads and backs that I soon acquired a reputation for courage.  Nor did I fail to note the advice given to me by my brother officers as to the making of money by extortion—­how an officer inflicts the bastinado fiercely or gently according to the capacity of the sufferer to pay; how bribes may be obtained from villages anxious not to have troops quartered upon them, and so on.  I lived in such an atmosphere of violence and cruelty—­I heard of nothing but slitting noses, putting out eyes, and chopping men in two—­that I am persuaded I could almost have impaled my own father.