“Such a sacrifice is not needed; at least, for those who walk uprightly and in the fear of God,” said Fagir to Kasiti, who was seated at his feet, with a Bible on her knees. “It would be mockery for such as I am to repeat what the Christians4 are taught to say—‘God be merciful to me, a sinner.’ I, at least, am no sinner, but a just and upright man, even judged by the laws contained in that Bible. I can hold my head erect5 before God and man; for I serve God with fasting and prayer, and man have I never wronged, but have bestowed6 large alms on the poor.”
It was not for Kasiti to reply; she read to herself in silence; but the thought of her heart was, “Had not Christ died for sinners, there would have been no heaven for me.”
The evening was hot; the motion of the gently-moving[11] punkah[3] disposed Fagir to sleep. His eyes gradually closed, and slumber7 stole over him where he sat, reclining on soft cushions. And as the weary man slept he dreamed, and his dream was as vivid as the realities of daily life could be.
Behold8 in his dream a beautiful angel appeared unto Fagir. A crown of light was on the head of the messenger of Heaven; glory was as a mantle9 around him, and when he shook his silvery wings a shower of stars seemed to fall upon earth. Fagir trembled at the sight of the pure and holy being who floated in the air before him without touching10 the ground with his shining feet.
“O Fagir, thou art bidden to the banquet of Paradise!” said the angel; and his voice was as music at night. “Receive this white robe, in which, if it retain its whiteness, thou mayst be meet to appear in the presence of the great King. But beware of sin; for every sin shall be as a stain on thy robe. Keep it white for but one day, and all the joys of Paradise shall be thine eternal reward.”
As the angel spake, he cast round the form of Fagir a radiant robe, white as the snow on the mountains. Then the angel touched the broad border of the robe, and on the border appeared in letters[12] of gold, Fear God, and keep his commandments (Eccles. xii. 13). Fagir gazed in wonder on the inscription11; but even as he gazed it faded away. He turned to look on the angel, but behold! the bright messenger had vanished. Nothing remained but the pure white robe, which Fagir still wore in his dream.
Then the soul of Fagir was filled with hope and triumph. “I have kept the commandments from my youth!” he exclaimed; “and shall I break them now, when my reward is so near at hand? Only one day of trial, and then I shall be walking in my radiant robe in the garden of celestial12 beauty, and have for companions such beings as the bright angel who left heaven to bear a message to me, the upright and the pious13.”
Then there came a change in the dream of Fagir: he deemed that he had risen, as was his wont14, at sunrise, to go forth15 to the business of the day. His thoughts were not now on Paradise, nor on the message borne by the holy one; but still he wore the mysterious robe which the angel had thrown around him.
And on what were the thoughts of Fagir intent as he took his early meal before starting for the cutcherry, in which, as a government official, he worked day after day? It might have been supposed[13] that one so pious would have reflected on holy things, when the first rays of the morning sun bade him thank God for sleep and protection during the hours of darkness. But no; the thoughts of Fagir were all on his worldly gains. He had for years set his heart on buying a piece of land which belonged to a neighbour of the name of Pir Bakhsh, feeling certain that he could derive16 much profit from its possession; but Pir Bakhsh had always refused to sell the ground. But Fagir thought in his dream that Pir Bakhsh had suddenly died in the night; his heir was only a child, and Fagir rejoiced in the hope that the land would now be sold, as the estate was encumbered17 with debt.
“The piece of ground is worth four hundred rupees[4] at least,” Fagir said to himself, “and I shall manage now to buy it for two hundred rupees. I shall then contrive18 to make the Magistrate19 Sahib purchase it for a garden, as it lies so close to his bungalow;[5] and a goodly sum he shall pay! I am a less sharp fellow than I take myself to be, if, before the year is over, my two hundred rupees have not swelled20 into seven hundred rupees at the least.”
Fagir laughed to himself at the double profit which he would make, first as purchaser, then as[14] seller. But his mirth suddenly ceased when his glance chanced to fall on his mysterious robe.
“I thought that this garment was whiter than milk!” he exclaimed; “whence comes, then, this dull gray tint21 upon it?” The answer to his question came in an inscription which for a moment, and only a moment, appeared on the border,—The love of money is the root of all evil (1 Tim. vi. 10).
Fagir felt pained and surprised; he had often heard the Christian padre[6] say that the religion of the Lord Jesus reached even to the thoughts and desires of the heart, but he had never till this time clearly perceived that covetousness22 is sin in itself, even if it lead to no open violation23 of the laws of God or of man. As if hoping by prayer to restore his robe to its former whiteness, Fagir now prostrated24 himself on his carpet, and repeated a long form of prayer. His lips moved, and a murmuring sound of prayer was heard; but even while he seemed to offer supplication25 and praise, the mind of Fagir was still fixed26 on the coveted27 field: he was thinking how he should persuade the orphan’s relatives that the ground was of little value, and how he should make the Sahib[7] regard it as worth at least seven hundred rupees. Every time that Fagir[15] repeated the name of God—and very often did he utter the holy word in his prayer—there fell, as it were, an ink-drop upon the garment given by the angel. Suddenly Fagir perceived this, and started up from his knees.
“Can I sin even in the act of prayer?” Fagir exclaimed in dismay.
Then for an instant appeared on the border of the robe the words uttered by the Almighty28 Himself, amidst thunder and lightning, on Sinai,—Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain; for the Lord will not hold him guiltless that taketh his name in vain (Ex. xx. 7).
“I will think no more on this robe,” said Fagir, with bitterness; “if my thoughts be tainted29 with imperfection, my acts at least are blameless. It is enough if a man live righteously; he is not master of his own heart.” Here was at least an admission, and that from one of the proudest of men, that the heart has a root of bitterness in it that even the most righteous of mortals have no power in themselves to root up.
And now in the dream of Fagir it came to pass that, as he was about to quit his dwelling30, a messenger arrived with a chit from Delhi. Fagir opened and read it, and then, turning towards his wife, he thus spake:—
[16]
“Kasiti, this note brings good tidings. Hosein, the head of my family, is coming from Delhi, and will abide31 for ten days in this city. We must receive him with great honour, for Hosein is a wealthy and distinguished32 man, much esteemed33 in the place where he dwells. There must be plentiful34 feasting here during the days of his sojourn35; I will throw my doors wide open, and invite hundreds of persons from far and near to meet my kinsman36.”
Kasiti mildly made reply,—“Oh! my lord, your salary is but one hundred and fifty rupees; whence, then, will you spread the table for hundreds of guests?”
“I will borrow what I need,” said Fagir.
“Oh! my lord,” said the gentle Kasiti, “the padre hath said in my hearing, that debt is as a chain, with which no servant of God should ever be bound.”
“A woman’s best eloquence37 is silence!” exclaimed Fagir with impatience38. “Bring me the pen and ink; I at once will write to the money-lender for two hundred and fifty rupees; he will send the sum without delay, for he knows that I am in government employ.”
As Fagir stretched forth his hand for the pen, his glance fell on the border of his stained garment, and[17] he read the words on it,—Owe no man anything, but to love one another (Rom. xiii. 8).
It seemed as if Kasiti also had read the inscription, for she ventured again to speak. “Were it not well to welcome my lord’s kinsman with due honour,” she said, “but with less of expense and show? We have enough to enable us to show him hospitality, not for ten days only, but for thrice ten, if your guest be content to live as we live.”
“If Hosein should be content with so mean a reception, I should not be content!” exclaimed Fagir, his voice rising in wrath39. “What! shall he who is the head of ten villages come for the first time under my roof, and find me living like a beggar? Wouldst thou have me to be dishonoured41 in his eyes, O thou ignorant and foolish woman? No! Hosein shall return to Delhi and report to all his neighbours that wealth and honour, much gold and many friends, are the portion of his relative Fagir!”
It was then as if a dust-storm had swept over the robe of Fagir: it darkened even as he spake; and black on the edge of the garment he beheld42 the inscription,—Pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty43 spirit before a fall (Prov. xvi. 18).
Vexed44 with himself, and all the more so because he saw tears in the eyes of Kasiti, Fagir quitted his dwelling to go, as usual, to his work at the cutcherry.[18] The words of his wife, though slighted, rested on Fagir’s memory still: “Debt is a chain with which no servant of God should ever be bound.” It was a thing forbidden in the Bible! Fagir knew that there was no necessity for him to incur45 debt; it was pride alone, and thirst for the praise of men, which made him submit to be bound like a slave with the chain of debt.
“I shall soon cast it from me,” said Fagir to himself, as he went on his way. “If I manage skilfully46, perhaps I may get that piece of land for even less than two hundred rupees, for the friends of that child know no more of business than I do of weaving shawls. But I must make my bargain quickly, or Mahmud, the man who ever crosses my path like a snake, will be purchasing the land himself; I know that he has for some time had his eye upon it. He is a grasping, unscrupulous fellow, and his presence to me is as the simoom to the traveller in the desert. But lo! do I not behold him coming towards me!”
Yes, it was Mahmud himself whom Fagir beheld approaching him in his dream.
“Salám!”[8] cried Mahmud; and Fagir respectfully returned the greeting, wishing the man whom he disliked health and all prosperity. The stain of[19] deceit and hypocrisy47 was on the garment worn by Fagir.
“Have you heard of the sudden death of Pir Bakhsh?” asked Mahmud, detaining Fagir, who was about to pass on.
“I have heard of it,” was the reply.
“I saw Pir Bakhsh but yesterday,” Mahmud went on; “my good fortune led me to his house then, for had I gone to-day I should have found him a corpse48. The poor fellow’s last act before his death was to sell me that bit of land which lies close to the Magistrate Sahib’s garden.”
The eyes of Mahmud glittered with satisfaction as he spake; there was triumph in them, and in the smile on his lips, which seemed to the enraged49 Fagir to say, “I have forestalled50 thee and overreached thee. I know that thy heart hath been set on that piece of ground; it is now mine, and thou never shalt have it, nor so much as set thy foot upon it!”
The two men parted without words of anger, but the soul of Fagir was filled with disappointment, envy, and anger. He clenched51 his hand, gnashed his teeth, and, turning round, he looked after the retiring form of Mahmud with a withering52 glance of hatred53.
“I detest54 that man,” muttered Fagir to himself; then he started in horror, for behold red spots, as of[20] blood, were staining his once white robe, and in blood-coloured letters on the border appeared the inscription,—Whosoever hateth his brother is a murderer; and ye know that no murderer hath eternal life (1 John iii. 15).
Fagir now loathed55 his polluted garment, and would fain have cast it from him, but he had no power to do so; that which he had received from the angel had become as a part of himself. That robe was Fagir’s own boasted righteousness, and his eyes had been opened to see that his righteousness was but as filthy56 rags (Isa. lxiv. 6). But the eyes may be opened without the heart being converted; and thus it was with Fagir. The downfall of his hopes regarding the piece of ground made him but the more eager to make money in other ways, that he might indulge his pride and ostentation57.
Then, in his dream, Fagir found himself seated at his desk in the cutcherry, with his piles of papers before him. Amongst them was a chit[9] from the Collector Sahib, and the contents of it were as follows:—
“There are two applicants58 for the office of under clerk: the one, Patras, a Christian, has been highly recommended to me; the other is Abbas, the son of a wealthy merchant. I have desired them both to[21] call upon you, that you may examine them as to their qualifications for the office, as I have not myself time to do so thoroughly59.”
“Not time, indeed! the Sahib might better have said, not sufficient knowledge of the language and the people,” muttered Fagir to himself, as he laid down the chit. Then calling an attendant who was outside, he said to him, “Is any one waiting to see me?”
“A young man, of the name of Patras, has been waiting your lordship’s pleasure for this last half-hour,” answered the man.
“Let him enter,” said Fagir; and forthwith the Christian entered, and made his respectful salám.
The head-clerk had no prejudice now against Christians; on the contrary, Fagir was convinced that they held the true faith, and that if they followed the example of Him in whom they believed, they would be the most upright and holy of men. Fagir moreover knew something of Patras, and was aware that he was one who had had to bear losses for righteousness’ sake. With kindliness60 of manner Fagir received the young man, and began, after the customary salutation, to examine him as regarded his knowledge of accounts and of other matters connected with the work of the office. The replies of Patras were all that could be desired; he was quick[22] in answering, and made no mistakes. It was clear to the mind of Fagir that here was a man who would intelligently and faithfully fulfil the duties of the office.
Yet there was something wanting in that young man,—at least, in the judgment61 of the government clerk. Though every answer given to his questions was satisfactory, Fagir did not look satisfied yet. Patras had knowledge in his head and wisdom on his lips; but the young Christian had brought nothing in his hand!
“I will see Abbas also before deciding on recommending Patras to the Collector Sahib,” thought Fagir. He dismissed the Christian from his presence; and, hearing from the attendant that Abbas was waiting at the entrance, Fagir gave permission that he should appear before him.
Abbas was a contrast to Patras. The face of the merchant’s son expressed cunning rather than talent; his eyes avoided meeting those of Fagir; and when questioned regarding accounts, the replies of Abbas betrayed his imperfect knowledge of business. Fagir saw that the young man had little to recommend him, and was about to dismiss him, when Abbas slowly, and as it were stealthily, drew forth a heavy bag of rupees. There was no need for speaking a word; this was not the first nor the second time[23] that Fagir—the self-righteous Fagir—had been offered a bribe62, and had not declined it!
Behold, O reader! how one sin draws on another, even as do the divers63 links of a chain. With Fagir pride led to extravagance, extravagance to debt, debt to covetousness, covetousness to malice64, meanness, and dishonour40. For shameful65 was the readiness of Fagir, for the sake of money, to betray the confidence reposed66 in him by his superior, to sacrifice the interests of the public service, and to wrong a deserving man. Fagir felt lowered in his own eyes as he took the bag of rupees, and saw the words on the border of his robe,—He that walketh righteously, and speaketh uprightly; he that despiseth the gain of oppression, that shaketh his hand from holding of bribes67; ... he shall dwell on high (Isa. xxxiii. 15, 16).
Then, in his dream, Fagir found himself standing68 in the presence of the collector, who wished to hear his opinion of the two candidates for the office of under clerk.
“Have you examined the two men?” inquired the English Sahib; and Fagir made reply,—
“I have done so, your honour.”
“I hope that Patras is the one best suited for the situation,” said the collector; “for he has been highly recommended to me as a perfectly69 trustworthy man.”
[24]
“Patras may be a good man, Sahib,” replied Fagir; “but he would make a very bad clerk. In everything connected with work, I find him far inferior to Abbas.”
“Then Abbas must have the place,” said the Englishman; “the public interest must ever be considered first of all.”
Fagir heard not the Sahib’s answer, for a feeling of horror had stolen over the soul of the guilty clerk. The robe which he wore had suddenly rent into rags as he had spoken the words of falsehood, and in letters of flame had appeared on the border,—Lying lips are an abomination unto the Lord (Prov. xii. 22). All liars70 shall have their part in the lake which burneth with fire and brimstone (Rev. xxi. 8).
And at that moment again Fagir beheld before him the bright angel from whom he had received the robe—that garment once so white, but now stained, ragged71, and polluted! The angel spake; but the voice which had been sweeter than music now sounded more terrible than the blast of the trumpet72 of the archangel which shall call forth the dead from their graves.
“O Fagir!” cried the angel, “thou art summoned this moment to appear in the presence of the great King.”
Then a horrible fear and dread73 seized upon the[25] soul of him who had been so confident in his own righteousness—of him who had said in his blindness of heart, “I can hold my head erect before God and man.” How should a poor wretch74 clad in loathsome75 rags dare to appear before Him who is of purer eyes than to behold iniquity76; how should he venture into the presence of the terrible King! Fagir felt as if he would rather call on the rocks and the mountains to hide him; and, in his agony, he cried out so loudly, “God be merciful to me, a sinner!” that he awoke from his dream. And, behold, he was reclining on cushions, with his hookah beside him, the punkah swinging to and fro, and Kasiti, with her Bible still on her knees, sitting at his feet.
“My lord[10] has had troubled sleep,” said the wife, raising her mild eyes from her book.
“O Kasiti!” exclaimed Fagir, still trembling from the effects of his dream; “how can a poor sinner, such as I am, weak, guilty, and full of evil, become fit to appear before God?”
Kasiti glanced down again at her Bible, and read aloud the prayer of the penitent77 David from the page which lay open before her,—Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean; wash me, and I shall[26] be whiter than snow. Create in me a clean heart, O God; and renew a right spirit within me (Ps. li. 7, 10).
“Can those who have stained the garments of the soul ever renew their whiteness?” exclaimed Fagir.
Kasiti knew not how to reply to her husband in words of her own; but she turned over the leaves of her Bible till she came to the description of the blessed in heaven, and then silently pointed78 to the words of the angel: These are they which have come out of great tribulation79, and have washed their robes, and made them white in the blood of the Lamb (Rev. vii. 14).
Fagir prostrated himself before the Lord in deep humility80 of soul. Having discovered that he was a great sinner, he now felt his need of a great Saviour81. Having seen that his own righteousness was as filthy rags, he desired that his soul might be washed clean in the blood of the Lamb of God which taketh away the sin of the world. Fagir soon afterwards sought baptism; but not only the outward sign, the water upon the brow, but the inward baptism of the Holy Ghost, the Spirit which toucheth the heart.
Having received free pardon and found mercy through Christ, Fagir thenceforth manfully struggled against the world, the flesh, and the devil. He strove to put away sin—the proud heart, the covetous[27] desire, malice, hatred, and all uncharitableness. Fagir became one who shaketh his hand from holding of bribes, and keepeth his tongue as with a bridle82. All who knew him said of Fagir, “Behold one who walketh uprightly.” But Fagir himself never ceased every day to utter the prayer,—God be merciful to me, a sinner..
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1
Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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diligently
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| ad.industriously;carefully | |
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testament
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| n.遗嘱；证明 | |
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Christians
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| n.基督教徒( Christian的名词复数 ) | |
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erect
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| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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bestowed
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| 赠给，授予( bestow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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slumber
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| n.睡眠，沉睡状态 | |
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behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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mantle
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| n.斗篷，覆罩之物，罩子；v.罩住，覆盖，脸红 | |
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touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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inscription
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| n.（尤指石块上的）刻印文字，铭文，碑文 | |
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celestial
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| adj.天体的；天上的 | |
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pious
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| adj.虔诚的；道貌岸然的 | |
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wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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derive
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| v.取得；导出；引申；来自；源自；出自 | |
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encumbered
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| v.妨碍，阻碍，拖累( encumber的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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contrive
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| vt.谋划，策划；设法做到；设计，想出 | |
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magistrate
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| n.地方行政官，地方法官，治安官 | |
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swelled
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| 增强( swell的过去式和过去分词 )； 肿胀； （使）凸出； 充满（激情） | |
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tint
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| n.淡色，浅色；染发剂；vt.着以淡淡的颜色 | |
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covetousness
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violation
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| n.违反(行为)，违背(行为)，侵犯 | |
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prostrated
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| v.使俯伏，使拜倒( prostrate的过去式和过去分词 )；（指疾病、天气等）使某人无能为力 | |
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supplication
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| n.恳求，祈愿，哀求 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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coveted
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| adj.令人垂涎的；垂涎的，梦寐以求的v.贪求，觊觎(covet的过去分词)；垂涎；贪图 | |
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almighty
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| adj.全能的，万能的；很大的，很强的 | |
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tainted
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| adj.腐坏的；污染的；沾污的；感染的v.使变质( taint的过去式和过去分词 )；使污染；败坏；被污染，腐坏，败坏 | |
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dwelling
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| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
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abide
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| vi.遵守；坚持；vt.忍受 | |
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distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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esteemed
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| adj.受人尊敬的v.尊敬( esteem的过去式和过去分词 )；敬重；认为；以为 | |
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plentiful
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| adj.富裕的，丰富的 | |
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sojourn
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| v./n.旅居，寄居；逗留 | |
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kinsman
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| n.男亲属 | |
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eloquence
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| n.雄辩；口才，修辞 | |
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impatience
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wrath
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| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
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dishonour
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| n./vt.拒付（支票、汇票、票据等）；vt.凌辱，使丢脸；n.不名誉，耻辱，不光彩 | |
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dishonoured
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| a.不光彩的，不名誉的 | |
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beheld
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| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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haughty
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| adj.傲慢的，高傲的 | |
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vexed
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| adj.争论不休的；（指问题等）棘手的；争论不休的问题；烦恼的v.使烦恼( vex的过去式和过去分词 )；使苦恼；使生气；详细讨论 | |
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incur
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| vt.招致，蒙受，遭遇 | |
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skilfully
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| adv. (美skillfully)熟练地 | |
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hypocrisy
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| n.伪善，虚伪 | |
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corpse
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| n.尸体，死尸 | |
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enraged
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| 使暴怒( enrage的过去式和过去分词 )； 歜； 激愤 | |
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forestalled
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| v.先发制人，预先阻止( forestall的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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clenched
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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withering
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| 使人畏缩的，使人害羞的，使人难堪的 | |
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hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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detest
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| vt.痛恨，憎恶 | |
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loathed
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| v.憎恨，厌恶( loathe的过去式和过去分词 )；极不喜欢 | |
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filthy
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| adj.卑劣的；恶劣的，肮脏的 | |
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ostentation
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| n.夸耀，卖弄 | |
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58
applicants
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| 申请人，求职人( applicant的名词复数 ) | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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kindliness
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| n.厚道，亲切，友好的行为 | |
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judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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62
bribe
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| n.贿赂；v.向…行贿，买通 | |
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divers
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| adj.不同的；种种的 | |
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malice
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| n.恶意，怨恨，蓄意；[律]预谋 | |
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shameful
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| adj.可耻的，不道德的 | |
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reposed
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| v.将（手臂等）靠在某人（某物）上( repose的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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bribes
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| n.贿赂( bribe的名词复数 )；向（某人）行贿，贿赂v.贿赂( bribe的第三人称单数 )；向（某人）行贿，贿赂 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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liars
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| 说谎者( liar的名词复数 ) | |
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ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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trumpet
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| n.喇叭，喇叭声；v.吹喇叭，吹嘘 | |
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73
dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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wretch
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| n.可怜的人，不幸的人；卑鄙的人 | |
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75
loathsome
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| adj.讨厌的，令人厌恶的 | |
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iniquity
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| n.邪恶；不公正 | |
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penitent
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| adj.后悔的；n.后悔者；忏悔者 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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tribulation
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| n.苦难，灾难 | |
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80
humility
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| n.谦逊，谦恭 | |
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81
saviour
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| n.拯救者，救星 | |
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82
bridle
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| n.笼头，束缚；vt.抑制，约束；动怒 | |
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