The Arabian Nights, Volume II of IV

by Unknown

OF ABOULHASSAN ALI EBN BECAR, AND OF SCHEMSELNIHAR, THE FAVORITE OF THE CALIPH HAROUN ALRASCHID.

During the reign of the caliph Haroun Alraschid, there lived a druggist at Bagdad, whose name was Aboulhassen Ebn Thaher. He was a man of considerable wealth; and was also very well made, and reckoned an agreeable person. He possessed more understanding and more politeness than generally falls to the lot of people of his profession. His notions of rectitude, his sincerity, and the liveliness of his disposition, made him beloved, and sought after by every one. The caliph, who was well acquainted with his merit, placed the most implicit confidence in him. He esteemed him so highly, that he reposed in him the sole care of procuring for his favorite ladies every thing they had occasion for. He chose their dresses, the furniture of their apartments, and their jewellery, in all of which departments he gave proofs of a most excellent taste.

His various good qualities, and the favor of the caliph, caused the sons of the emirs, and other officers of the highest rank, to frequent his house; and it, in this manner, became the rendezvous of all the nobles of the court. Among other young men, who made almost a daily practice of going there, was one whom Ebn Thaher esteemed above all the rest, and with whom he contracted a most intimate friendship. This young nobleman’s name was Aboulhassan Ali Ebn Becar; and he derived his origin from an ancient royal family of Persia. This family still continued extant at Bagdad, from the time that the mussulman arms made a conquest of that kingdom. Nature seemed to have taken a pleasure in combining in this young prince every mental endowment, and personal accomplishment. He possessed a countenance of the most finished beauty, his figure was fine, his air elegant and easy, and the expression of his face so engaging, that no one could see him without instantly loving him. Whenever he spoke, he used the most appropriate and pure words, added to a certain turn of expression equally novel and agreeable. There was something even in the tone of his voice that charmed all who heard him. To complete the whole, as his understanding and judgment were of the first rank, so all his thoughts and expressions were most admirable and just. He was moreover so very reserved and modest, that he advanced nothing till he had taken every possible precaution to avoid any suspicion of prefering his own opinion, or sentiment, to that of another. Being a young man in every respect such as I have described him to you, it is not to be wondered at, that Ebn Thaher distinguished him in a particular manner from the other young noblemen of the court, whose vices, for the most part, served only as a foil to his virtues.

As this prince was one day at the house of Ebn Thaher, they observed a lady come to the door, mounted upon a black and white mule, and surrounded by ten female slaves, who accompanied her on foot. They were all very handsome, at least as far as could be judged from their air, and through the veils that covered their faces. The lady herself had on a rose-coloured girdle, at least four fingers in width, upon which were fastened diamonds and pearls of the largest size; and it was no difficult matter to conjecture, that her beauty surpassed that of her attendants, as much as the moon at the full exceeds the crescent of two days old. She came here for the purpose of executing some commission; and as it was necessary to speak to Ebn Thaher, she went into his shop, which was very large and commodious. He received her with every mark of respect, begged her to be seated, and conducted her by the hand to the most honourable place.

The prince of Persia, in the mean time, did not choose to let such an excellent opportunity of showing his politeness and his gallantry escape him; he placed a cushion, covered with cloth of gold, for the lady to rest upon: then immediately retired, that she might sit down. After this he made his compliments by kissing the carpet under her feet, got up, and stood before her at the end of the sofa. As she felt herself quite at home with Ebn Thaher, she took off her veil, and displayed in the eyes of the prince of Persia a beauty so extraordinary, that it pierced him to the bottom of his heart. Nor could the lady on her part help looking at the prince, whose person made an equal impression on her. “I beg of you, sir,” she said to him in an obliging manner, “to be seated.” The prince of Persia obeyed, and sat down on the edge of the sofa. He kept his eyes constantly fixed upon her, and swallowed large draughts of the delicious poison of love. She soon perceived what passed in his mind, and this discovery completed her own passion. She then got up and went to Ebn Thaher, and after having informed him, in a whisper, of the motive of her visit, she inquired of him what was the name and country of the prince of Persia. “Madam,” replied Ebn Thaher, “this young nobleman, of whom you are speaking, is called Aboulhassan Ali Ebn Becar, and is of the blood royal of Persia.”

The lady was delighted to find that the man she was so passionately in love with, was of such an high rank. “You mean, without doubt, I suppose,” replied she, “that he is descended from the kings of Persia.”—“I do, madam,” returned Ebn Thaher, “the last kings of Persia are his ancestors; and since the conquest of that kingdom, the princes of his family have always been held in estimation at the court of our caliphs.”—“You will afford me a great pleasure,” said the lady, “if you will make me acquainted with this young nobleman. When I shall send this female to you,” added she, pointing to one of her slaves, “to request you to come and see me, I beg you will bring him with you; I very much wish that he should see the splendour and magnificence of my palace, that he may both see and publish to the world, that avarice does not hold her court among people of quality at Bagdad. You understand, and attend to what I say to you. Pray do not fail: if you do, I shall be very angry with you, and will never come and see you again as long as I live.”

Ebn Thaher possessed too much penetration not to understand, by this speech, what were the sentiments of the lady. “God preserve me, my princess,” replied he, “from giving you any cause to be offended with me. To execute your orders will ever be a law to me.” Having received this answer, the lady took her leave of Ebn Thaher with an inclination of her head; and after casting a most obliging look at the prince of Persia, she mounted her mule, and departed.

Distractedly in love with this lady, he continued looking at her as long as she was in sight; and even after he had lost sight of her, it was a long time before he took his eyes from the way she went. Ebn Thaher then remarked to him, that he was observed by some people, who were ready to laugh at seeing him in that attitude. “Alas!” said the prince to him, “you, and all the world, would have compassion upon me, if you knew that this beautiful lady, who has just left your house, had carried away by far the better part of me; and that what remains cannot live separate. Tell me, I conjure you,” added he, “who this tyrannical lady is, that compels people thus to love her, without giving them time to think on the subject.”—“My lord,” replied Ebn Thaher, it is the famous [13] Schemselnihar, the first favorite of our sovereign master, the caliph.”—“She is indeed called so,” said the prince, “with the greatest justice and propriety, since she is more beautiful than the cloudless meridian sun.”—“It is true,” replied Ebn Thaher, “and the Commander of the Faithful loves her, or, I might rather say, adores her. He has expressly commanded me to furnish her with every thing she wishes, and even to anticipate her thoughts, if it were possible, in any thing she may desire.”

He entered into this conversation with the prince, to prevent his falling in love, where the event must be unfortunate; but this in fact only served to inflame him the more. “I cannot doubt,” cried he, “charming Schemselnihar, that I shall not be suffered to raise my thoughts to you. I nevertheless feel, although without any hopes of being beloved by you, that it will not be in my power to cease from adoring you. I will continue to love you then, and will bless my fate, that I am become the slave of an object the most beautiful that the sun illumines.”

Whilst the prince of Persia was thus consecrating his heart to the beautiful Schemselnihar, this lady, as she went home, continued to think upon the means she should pursue, in order to see and converse with freedom with this prince. She was no sooner returned to the palace, than she sent back to Ebn Thaher that particular female slave, whom she had pointed out to him, and in whom she placed the most implicit confidence, to request him to come and see her without delay; and to bring the prince of Persia along with him. The slave arrived at the shop of Ebn Thaher at the very time he was conversing with the prince, and while he was using the strongest arguments to endeavour to persuade him to give up his love for the favorite of the caliph. When the slave saw them together, she said, “My most honorable mistress, Schemselnihar, the first favorite of the Commander of the Faithful, entreats you both to come to the palace, where she expects you.” Ebn Thaher, in order to show how ready he was to obey her, instantly got up, without answering the slave one word, and followed her, though not without considerable repugnance. As for the prince, he followed her without at all reflecting on the danger he ran from making this visit. The presence of Ebn Thaher, who had free admission to the Favorite, made him perfectly easy on that subject. They both then followed the slave, who walked a little before them. They went into the palace of the caliph soon after her, and joined her at the door of the smaller palace, appropriated to Schemselnihar, which was already open. She introduced them into a large hall, where she bagged them to be seated.

The prince of Persia thought himself in one of those delightful palaces, which are promised to us in the other world. He had hitherto seen nothing that at all equalled the magnificence of the place where he now was. The carpets, cushions, and other furniture of the sofas, together with the furniture, ornaments, and architecture, were most exceeding rich and beautiful. They had not long remained in this place, before a black slave, properly dressed, set out a table, covered with the most delicate dishes; the delicious smell of which afforded them a strong proof of the excellence of the seasoning: while they were eating, the slave, who had conducted them here, did not leave them: she took great care to invite them to eat of those ragouts and dishes she knew to be best; in the mean time, other slaves poured out some excellent wine, with which they finished their repast. When this was over, they presented to the prince of Persia, and to Ebn Thaher, each a separate bason, and a beautiful golden vase, full of water, to wash their hands. They afterwards brought them some perfume of aloes in a portable vessel, which was also of gold, with which they scented their beards and dress. Nor was the perfumed water forgotten. It was brought in a golden vase, enriched with diamonds and rubies, made expressly for this purpose, and it was poured into both their hands, with which they rubbed their beards, and their whole faces, as was the usual custom. They then sat down again in their places, but they were no sooner there, than the slave requested them to get up, and follow her. She opened a door, which led from the hall where they were, and they entered a very large saloon, most wonderfully constructed. It was a dome of an agreeable form, supported by an hundred columns of marble, as white as alabaster. The pedestals and capitals of these columns were each ornamented with quadrupeds, and birds of various species, worked in gold. The carpet of this wonderful saloon was composed of a single piece of cloth of gold, upon which were worked bunches of roses in red and white silk; the dome itself was painted in arabesque, and afforded a view of a multitude of charming objects. There was a small sofa between each column, ornamented in the same manner, together with large vases of porcelain, of crystal, of jasper, of jet, of porphyry, of agate, and other valuable materials, all enriched with gold, and inlaid with precious stones. The spaces between the columns contained also large windows, with balconies of a proper height, and furnished in the same style of elegance with the sofas, from whence you looked into the most delicious garden in the world. Its walks were formed of small stones of various colours, which represented the carpet of the saloon under the dome; and, in this manner, while they looked on the floor, either in the saloon or garden, it seemed as if the dome and the garden, with all their beauties, formed one splendid whole. The view from every point was terminated at the end of the walks by two canals of water, as transparent as rock crystal, which preserved the same circular figure as the dome. One of these canals was raised above the other, and from the higher, the water fell in a large body into the lower one. On their banks, at certain distances, were placed some beautiful bronze and gilt vases, all furnished with shrubs and flowers. These walks also separated from each other large spaces, which were planted with lofty and thick trees, in the midst of which a thousand birds warbled the most melodious sounds; and diversified the scene by their various flights, and by the battles they fought while in the air; sometimes in sport, and at others in a more serious and cruel manner.

The prince of Persia and Ebn Thaher stopped a long time to examine the great magnificence of this place. They expressed strong marks of surprise and admiration at every thing that struck them, particularly the prince of Persia, who had never before seen any thing at all comparable to it. Ebn Thaher too, although he had been before in this enchanting spot, could not refrain from admiring its beauties, which always appeared with an air of novelty. In short, they had not ceased from their admiration of these singular things, with which they were so agreeably taken up, when they suddenly perceived a company of females most richly dressed. They were all sitting down on the outside, at some distance from the dome, each on a seat made of Indian plantain wood, enriched with silver inlaid in compartments, with a musical instrument in their hands waiting only for the appointed signal, to begin to play on them.

They both went and placed themselves in one of the balconies, from whence they had a direct view of them; and on looking towards the right hand, they saw below a large court, with an entrance into the garden up a flight of steps. The whole of this court was surrounded with very elegant apartments. The slave had left them, and, as they were by themselves, they conversed together for some time. “I do not doubt,” said the prince of Persia to Ebn Thaher, “that you, who are a sedate and wise man, look with very little satisfaction upon all these exhibitions of magnificence and power. In my eyes nothing in the whole world can be more surprising; and when I add to this the reflection, that it is the splendid abode of the too amiable Schemselnihar, and that the first monarch of the world makes it the place of his retirement, I confess to you, that I think myself the most unfortunate of men. It seems to me, that there cannot exist a more cruel fate than mine; to love an object completely in the power of my rival, and in the very spot where that rival is so powerful, that I am not, even at this very instant, secure of my life.”

To this speech of the prince of Persia, Ebn Thaher thus answered: “I wish to God, sir, that I could give you as perfect an assurance of the happy issue of your attachment, as I can of the safety of your person. Although this superb palace belongs to the caliph, it was erected expressly for Schemselnihar, and is called the Palace of continual pleasures, and although it makes a part, as it were, of his own, yet be assured, this lady here enjoys most perfect liberty. She is not surrounded by eunuchs, who watch her minutest actions. These buildings are appropriated solely to her use, and she has the absolute disposal of the whole, as she thinks proper. She goes out, and walks about the city wherever she pleases, without asking leave of any one; she returns at her own time, and the caliph never comes to visit her, without first sending Mesrour, the chief of the eunuchs, to give her notice of it, and to prepare for his reception. Your mind, therefore, ought not to be disturbed, but remain in a tranquil state; be attentive, therefore, to a concert, which I perceive Schemselnihar is going to treat us with.”

At the very instant Ebn Thaher had done speaking, the prince of Persia and he both observed the slave, who was the confidant of the Favorite, come and order the females, that were seated in front of them, to sing and play on their several instruments. They all immediately began a sort of prelude, and after playing thus for some time, one of them sung alone, and accompanied herself on a lute, most admirably. As she had been informed of the subject upon which she was to sing, the words of her song were in such perfect unison with the feelings of the prince of Persia, that he could not help applauding her at the conclusion of the couplet. “Is it possible,” he cried, “that you can have the faculty of penetrating the inmost thoughts of others, and that thus the knowledge you have of what passes in my heart, has enabled you to give my feelings utterance, by the sound of your delightful voice? I could not myself have expressed them in more appropriate terms.” To this speech the female answered not a word. She went on, and sung several other stanzas, which so much affected the prince, that he repeated some of them with tears in his eyes, whence it was sufficiently evident to whom he made the application. When she had finished all the couplets, she and her companions stood up and sang altogether some words to the following effect, that the full moon was about to rise in all its splendour, and going soon to approach the sun. The meaning of which was, that Schemselnihar was about to appear, and that the prince of Persia would immediately have the pleasure of seeing her.

In fact, Ebn Thaher and the prince, looking towards one side of the court, observed the confidential slave approach, followed by ten black females, who with difficulty carried a large throne of massive silver, most elegantly wrought, which the slave made them place at a certain distance from the prince and Ebn Thaher. After this, the black slaves retired behind some trees at the end of a walk. Then twenty most beautiful females, richly and uniformly dressed, advanced in two rows, singing and playing on different instruments, and ranged themselves on each side of the throne.

The prince of Persia and Ebn Thaher beheld all these things with the greatest possible attention, eager and curious to know in what it would end. At last, they saw come out of the same door, whence the ten black slaves, who had brought the throne, and the twenty other slaves had come, ten other females equally beautiful and handsomely adorned as the former. They stopped at the door, waiting some moments for the Favorite, who then issued forth, and placed herself in the midst of them. It was very easy to distinguish her from the rest, as well by her person and majestic air, as by a sort of mantle of very light materials enriched with azure and gold, which she wore fastened to her shoulders, over the other parts of her dress, which was the most appropriate, best made, and most magnificent you can imagine. The diamonds, pearls, and rubies, which ornamented her person, were not scattered in a confused manner. They were few in number, properly arranged, and of inestimable value. She advanced with a degree of majesty which did not ill represent the sun in its course, in the midst of clouds, which received its rays without diminishing its splendour. She then proceeded, and seated herself upon the silver throne that they had brought for that purpose.

As soon as the prince of Persia perceived Schemselnihar, he had eyes for nothing else. “We cease our inquiries,” said he to Ebn Thaher, “after the object of our search, when it appears before us; and we no longer are in a state of doubt, when the truth is evident. Look at this divine beauty; she is the origin of all my evils; evils, indeed, which I bless, however severe, and however lasting they may become. At sight of this object I am no longer myself: my restless soul revolts against its master, and I feel that it strives to abandon me. Go, then, my soul, I give thee leave; but let thy flight be for the advantage and preservation of this weak frame. It is you, too cruel Ebn Thaher, who are the cause of my disorder. You imagined it would afford me pleasure to bring me here; and I perceive, that I am come here only to court my destruction. Pardon me,” he added, recovering himself a little, “I deceive myself, for I was determined to come, and can only complain of myself.” At these words, he wept most violently. “I am very glad,” said Ebn Thaher, “that you at last do me justice. When I told you, that Schemselnihar was the first Favorite of the caliph, I did so for the express purpose of preventing this direful and fatal passion, which you seem to take a pleasure in nourishing in your heart. Every thing you see here ought to make you endeavour to disengage yourself, and to excite only sentiments of gratitude and respect for the honour Schemselnihar has been willing to do you, in ordering me to introduce you here. Recollect yourself then; recall your wandering reason, and put yourself in a state to appear before her, in a way her kindness and condescension deserves. See, she approaches. If this affair was to come over again, I would, in truth, act very differently; but the thing is done, and I trust in God that we shall not repent it. I have nothing more to say,” added he, “but that love is a traitor, who will involve you in such an abyss, you can never again extricate yourself.

Ebn Thaher had no time to say any more, as Schemselnihar now came up. She placed herself on the throne, and saluted them both by an inclination of her hand. Her eyes, however, were fixed upon the prince, and they both spoke a language intermingled with sighs, by which, in a short time, they understood more than they would have done in an age from actual conversation. The more Schemselnihar looked at the prince, the more did his looks tend to confirm her opinion, that she was not indifferent to him; and being thus already convinced of his passion, Schemselnihar thought herself the happiest being in the whole world. She at length took her eyes off him, to give orders for the females, who had sung before, to approach. They rose up, and while they were walking forward, the black slaves came from the walk, where they had remained, and brought their seats, and placed them near the balcony in the window, where the prince of Persia and Ebn Thaher were. The manner in which all these were arranged, together with the Favorite’s throne, and the females, who were on each side of her, formed a semicircle before them.

When those who had before been seated, had again, by the permission of Schemselnihar, who gave them a sign for that purpose, taken their places, this charming Favorite fixed upon one of her women to sing. After employing a little time in tuning her lute, she sung a song, of which the sense of the words was as follows: When two lovers, who are dotingly fond of each other, are attached by a passion without bounds; when their hearts, although in two bodies, form but one; and when any obstacle opposes their mutual desires, they may, with tears in their eyes, say, “If we love each other, because each finds the other amiable, ought we to incur displeasure? Fate alone is to blame, not ourselves.”

Schemselnihar evidently showed, both by her eyes and actions, that she thought these words applicable to herself and the prince, and that he was no longer master of himself. He got up, and advancing towards the balustrade, which served him to lean upon, he contrived to catch the attention of one of the females who sung. And as she was not far from him, he said to her, “Attend to me, and do me the favor to accompany with your lute the song I am now going to sing you.” He then sung an air, the tender and impassioned words of which perfectly expressed the violence of his love. As soon as it was finished, Schemselnihar, following his example, said to one of her women, “Attend to me also, and accompany my voice.” She then sung in a manner that increased, to a still greater degree, the flame that burnt in the heart of the prince of Persia; who only answered her by another air still more tender than the one he sung before.

These two lovers having thus declared their mutual affection by their songs, Schemselnihar at length completely yielded to the strength of hers. She got up from her throne, almost forgetting what she did, and proceeded towards the door of the saloon. The prince, who was aware of her intention, instantly rose also, and hurried to meet her. They met at the very door, where they seized each other’s hands, and embraced with so much transport, that they both fainted on the spot. They would have fallen to the ground, if the female attendants, who followed Schemselnihar, had not prevented them. They supported and led them to a sofa; and it was only by throwing some perfumed water over them, and applying various stimulants, that they returned to their senses.

The first thing Schemselnihar did, as soon as they had recovered, was to look round on all sides; and not seeing Ebn Thaher, she eagerly inquired where he was. The fact was, Ebn Thaher had retired out of respect to her, while the slaves were employed in attending their mistress; for he was really afraid, and not without reason, that some unfortunate consequence would arise from this adventure. As soon as he heard that Schemselnihar asked for him, he came forward and presented himself before her.

She seemed highly satisfied at the appearance of Ebn Thaher, and expressed her joy in these obliging terms. “I know not by what means, Ebn Thaher, I can ever repay the obligations I am under to you; but for you, I should never have become acquainted with the prince of Persia, nor have gained the affections of the most amiable being in the world. Be assured, however, that I shall not die ungrateful; and that my gratitude shall, if possible, equal the benefit I have received through your means.” Ebn Thaher could only answer this flattering speech by an inclination of the head, and by wishing the Favorite the attainment of every thing she could desire.

Schemselnihar then turned towards the prince of Persia, who was seated by her side, and looking at him, though not without feeling confused after what had passed between them; “I cannot, sir,” she said to him, “but be perfectly assured that you love me; and, however strong your passion for me may be, you cannot, I think, doubt that mine is equally violent. Do not, however, let us delusively flatter ourselves; whatever unison there may be between your sentiments and mine, I can look forwards only to pain, disappointment, and misery for each. And no remedy, alas, remains to befriend us in our misfortunes, but perfect constancy in love, entire submission to the will of Heaven, and patient expectation of whatever it may please to decree as our destiny.” “Madam,” replied the prince of Persia, “you would do me the greatest injustice in the world, if you could for a moment doubt the constancy and fidelity of my heart. My affection is so completely blended with my soul, that it forms in fact a part of my very existence; nay, I shall even preserve it beyond the grave. Neither misery, torments, nor obstacles of any kind, can ever be capable of lessening my love for you.” At the conclusion of this speech his tears flowed in abundance; nor could Schemselnihar restrain hers.

Ebn Thaher took this opportunity to speak to the Favorite, “Madam,” said he, “permit me to say, that instead of thus remaining overwhelmed in misery, you ought rather to feel the greatest joy in finding yourselves so fortunately in each other’s society. I really do not understand the motives for your grief. If it be so great now, what must you feel when necessity shall compel you to separate. But why do I say shall compel you: we have already been a long time here; and it is now necessary, as you must be aware, madam, for us to take our departure.” “Alas,” replied Schemselnihar, “how cruel you are! Have not you, who so well know the cause of my tears, any pity for the unfortunate situation in which you see me. O miserable destiny, why am I compelled to submit to so severe a restriction, as to be for ever unable to obtain and enjoy what absorbs my whole affection?”

As however she was well persuaded that Ebn Thaher had said nothing but what was dictated by friendship, she was by no means angry at his speech; she even profited from it; for she directly made a sign to the slave, her confidant, who immediately went out, and soon returned with a small collation of various fruits upon a silver table, which she placed between the Favorite and the prince of Persia. Schemselnihar chose what she thought was the best, and presented it to the prince, entreating him to eat it for her sake. He took it, and instantly carried it to his mouth; taking care, that the very part which had felt the pressure of her fingers, should first touch his lips. The prince, in his turn, then presented something to Schemselnihar, who directly took and eat it in the same manner. Nor did she forget to invite Ebn Thaher to partake with them: but as he knew he was now staying longer in a place than was perfectly safe, he would rather have returned home; and he eat therefore only through complaisance. As soon as the things were taken away, they brought some water in a vase of gold, and a silver bason, in which they both washed their hands at the same time. After this they returned to their seats, and then three of the ten black females brought each of them a cup, formed of beautiful rock crystal, and filled with the most exquisite wine, upon a golden waiter, which they placed before Schemselnihar, the prince of Persia, and Ebn Thaher.

In order to be more by themselves, Schemselnihar retained near her only the ten black slaves, and the other ten females, who were skilled in music and singing. After she had dismissed all the other attendants, she took one of the cups, and holding it in her hand, she sung some of the most tender words, which one of the females accompanied with her lute. When this was finished, she drank the wine. She then took one of the other cups, and, presenting it to the prince, requested him to drink it for love of her, in the same manner she had done hers. He received it with the greatest transport of love and joy. But before he drank it, he sung in his turn an air, accompanied by the instrument of another female; and in singing it, the tears fell in abundance from his eyes: the words, also, which he sung, expressed the idea, that he himself was ignorant whether it was the wine that he was drinking, or his own tears. Schemselnihar then presented the third cup to Ebn Thaher, who thanked her for the honor and attention she showed him.

When this was over, the Favorite took a lute from one of her slaves, and accompanied her own voice in so impassioned a manner, that she was absolutely carried beyond herself; and the prince of Persia, with his eyes intently fixed upon her, remained perfectly motionless, like one enchanted. In the midst of these scenes the trusty slave of the Favorite came in quite alarmed, and told her mistress, that Mesrour, and two other officers, together with many eunuchs, who accompanied them, were at the door, and desired to speak to her as from the caliph. When the prince of Persia and Ebn Thaher heard what the slave said, they changed colour; and trembled, as if their discovery had actually taken place. Schemselnihar however, who perceived them, soon dispelled their fears.

After having endeavoured to quiet their alarm, she charged her confidential slave to go and keep Mesrour and the two officers of the caliph in conversation, while she prepared herself to receive them; and said, she would then send to her to introduce them. She directly ordered all the windows of the saloon to be shut, and the paintings on silk, which were in the garden, to be taken down; and after having again assured the prince and Ebn Thaher, that they might remain therein perfect safety, she opened the door that led to the garden, went out, and shut it after her. In spite, however, of every assurance which she had given them, that they were quite secure from discovery, they could not avoid feeling very much alarmed all the time they were alone.

As soon as Schemselnihar was in the garden, with the women who attended her, she made them take away all the seats, on which the females, who had formed the concert, had sat near the window, from whence the prince and Ebn Thaher had heard them. When she saw that every thing was in the state she wished, she sat down on the silver throne; and then sent to inform her confidential slave, that she might introduce the chief of the eunuchs, and his two under officers.

They appeared, followed by twenty black eunuchs, all properly dressed; each having a scimitar by his side, and a large golden belt round his body, four fingers in breadth. As soon as they perceived the Favorite, although they were at a considerable distance, they made a most profound reverence, which she returned them from her throne. When they approached nearer, she got up, and went towards Mesrour, who walked first. She asked him what intelligence he brought; to which he replied, “The Commander of the Faithful, madam, by whose order I am come, has charged me to say to you, that he cannot live any longer without the pleasure of beholding you. He purposes, therefore, to pay you a visit this evening; and I am come in order to inform you of it, that you may prepare for his reception. He hopes, madam, that you will feel as much joy at receiving him, as he does impatience to be with you.”

When the Favorite observed that Mesrour had finished his speech, she prostrated herself on the ground, to show the submission with which she received the commands of the caliph. When she got up, she said to him, “I beg you will inform the Commander of the Faithful, that it will ever be my glory to fulfil the commands of his majesty, and that his slave will endeavour to receive him with all the respect that is due to him.” She at the same time gave orders to her confidential slave, to make all the necessary preparations in the palace for the caliph’s reception, by means of the black females, who were kept for this purpose. Then taking leave of the chief of the eunuchs, she said to him, “You must see, that it will take some little time to make the necessary preparations; go, therefore, I beg of you, and arrange matters so that the caliph may not be very impatient, and that he may not arrive so soon as to find us quite in confusion.”

The chief of the eunuchs then retired with his attendants; and Schemselnihar returned to the saloon, very much afflicted at the necessity she was under, of sending the prince of Persia back sooner than she intended. She went to him with tears in her eyes, which very much increased the alarm of Ebn Thaher, who seemed to conjecture from it some unfortunate event. “I see, madam,” said the prince to her, “that you come for the purpose of announcing to me, that we are compelled to separate. Provided, however, that I have nothing farther to dread, I trust that Heaven will grant me patience, which I have so much need of, to enable me to support your absence.” “Alas, my love, my dear soul,” cried the too tender Schemselnihar, interrupting him, “how happy do I find yours, when I compare it with my more wretched fate. You doubtless suffer greatly from my absence, but that is your only grief; you can derive consolation from the hopes of seeing me again: but I, just Heaven, to what a painful task am I compelled! I am not only deprived of the enjoyment of the only being I love, but am obliged to bear the sight of one whom you have rendered hateful to me. Will not the caliph’s arrival constantly bring to my recollection the necessity of your departure? And absorbed as I shall be continually with your dear image, how shall I be able to express to that prince any signs of joy at his presence, which was hitherto always accompanied on my part, as he often remarked, with pleasure sparkling in my eyes. When I address him, my mind will be distracted; and the least possible indulgence I shall grant to his affection, will plunge a poniard into my very soul. Can I possibly derive the least pleasure from his kind words and caresses? How dreadful the idea. Judge then, my prince, to what torments I shall be exposed, when you have left me.” The tears, which ran in streams from her eyes, and the convulsive sobs of her bosom, prevented her further utterance. The prince of Persia wished to make a reply, but he had not sufficient strength of mind. His own grief, added to what he saw his mistress suffer, took from him all power of speech.

Ebn Thaher, whose only object was to get out of the palace, was obliged to console them, and beg them to have a little patience. At this moment, the confidential slave broke in upon them; “Madam,” she cried, “you have no time to lose; the eunuchs are beginning to assemble, and you know the caliph, therefore, will very soon be here.”—“Oh Heavens!” exclaimed the Favorite, “how cruel is the separation! Hasten,” she cried to the slave, “and conduct them to the gallery, which on one side looks towards the garden, and on the other over the Tigris: and when night shall have thrown the greatest obscurity over the face of the earth, let them out of the gate that is on the back part of the palace, that they may retire in perfect safety.” At these words she embraced the prince of Persia, without having the power of saying another word; and then went to meet the caliph, with her mind in such a disordered state as may easily be imagined.

In the mean time the confidential slave conducted the prince and Ebn Thaher to the gallery, where Schemselnihar had ordered her: as soon as she had introduced them into it she left them there, and in going away she shut the doors after her: having first assured them that they had nothing to fear; and that she would come at the proper time and let them out.

The slave, however, was no sooner gone, than both the prince and Ebn Thaher forgot the assurances she had given them, that they had nothing to be alarmed at. They examined all round the gallery; and were extremely frightened when they found there was not a single place by which they could escape, in case the caliph, or any of his officers, should take it into their heads to come there.

A sudden light, which they saw through the blinds on the side towards the garden, induced them to go and examine from whence it came. It was in fact caused by the flames of an hundred flambeaux of white wax, which an equal number of young eunuchs carried in their hands. These eunuchs were followed by more than an hundred others, who were older, all of whom formed a part of the guards that were always on duty at the apartments of the females belonging to the caliph. They were dressed and armed with scimitars, in the same way as those I have before mentioned. The caliph himself walked after these, between Mesrour, the chief of the eunuchs, who was on his right hand, and Vassif, the second in command, who was on his left.

Schemselnihar waited for the caliph at the entrance of one of the walks, accompanied by twenty very beautiful females, who wore necklaces and ear-rings made of large diamonds, and whose heads were also profusely ornamented with the same materials. They all sung to the sound of their instruments, and formed a most delightful concert. The favorite no sooner saw the caliph appear, than she advanced towards him, and prostrated herself at his feet. But at the very instant of doing it, she said to herself, “If your mournful eyes, O prince of Persia, were witness to what I am now compelled to do, you would be able to judge of the severity of my lot. It is before you alone, that I wish thus to humble myself; my heart would not then feel the least repugnance.”

The caliph was delighted to see Schemselnihar. “Rise, madam,” he cried, as he approached her, “and come near to me. I have felt myself but ill at ease at having been deprived for so long a time of the pleasure of beholding you.” Having thus spoken, he took her by the hand, and addressing the most kind and obliging things to her, he seated himself on the throne of silver, which she had ordered to be brought, as she did on a seat before him; and the other twenty females formed an entire circle round them, sitting down on other seats; while the hundred young eunuchs, who carried the flambeaux, dispersed themselves at certain distances from each other all over the garden; and the caliph, in the mean time, enjoyed at his ease the freshness of the evening air.

When the caliph had sat down, he looked round him, and observed, with great satisfaction, that the garden was illuminated with a multitude of other lights besides those which the eunuchs carried. He took notice, however, that the saloon was shut up; at which he seemed surprised, and asked the reason of it. It was, in fact, done so on purpose to astonish him; for he had no sooner spoken, than all the windows at once suddenly opened, and he saw it lighted up both within side and without, in a much more extensive and magnificent manner than he had ever done before. “Charming Schemselnihar,” he cried at this sight, “I understand your meaning: you wish me to acknowledge, that the night may be made as beautiful as the day. And after what I now see, I cannot deny it.”

Let us now return to the prince of Persia and Ebn Thaher, whom we left shut up in the gallery. Although in that disagreeable situation, the latter could not help admiring every thing that passed, and of which he was a spectator, “I am not a young man,” he cried, “and have, in the course of my life, been witness to many beautiful sights; but I really think I never saw any spectacle so surprising or grand as this is. Nothing that has been related even of enchanted palaces, at all equals the exhibitions we have now before our eyes. What a profusion of magnificence and richness!”

None of these brilliant objects, however, seemed to have any effect upon the prince of Persia: he derived not that pleasure from them which Ebn Thaher did. His eyes were only intent upon watching Schemselnihar; and the presence of the sultan plunged him into the greatest affliction. “Dear Ebn Thaher,” he cried, “I wish to God I had a mind sufficiently at ease to be interested like yourself in every thing that is admirable around us. But I am, alas, in a very different state; and all these objects serve but to increase my torment. How can I possibly see the caliph alone with her I doat on, and not die in despair? Ought an affection so tender and indelible as mine to be disturbed by so powerful a rival? Heavens! how extraordinary and cruel is my destiny. Not an instant ago I thought myself the happiest and most fortunate lover in the world, and at this moment I feel a stroke on my heart that will, at last, be the death of me. No, I cannot, my dear Ebn Thaher, resist it. My patience is worn out; my misfortune completely overwhelms me, and my courage sinks under it.” In pronouncing these last words, he observed something going on in the garden, which obliged him to be silent and give his attention.

The fact was, that the caliph had commanded one of the females that was near, to take her lute and sing. The words she sung were very tender and impassioned; and the caliph, being persuaded that she sung them by Schemselnihar’s order, who had often given him similar proofs of her affection, interpreted them in favor of himself. But, at this moment, it was very far from the intention of Schemselnihar. She, in her heart, applied them to her dear Ali Ebn Becar, the prince of Persia; and the misery she felt at having, in his place, an object before her whose presence she could not endure, took such an effect upon her, that she fainted. She fell back in her chair, which had no arms to it; and would have fallen on the ground if some of her women had not quickly ran to her assistance. They carried her away, and took her into the saloon.

Ebn Thaher, who was in the gallery, surprised by this accident, turned his head towards the prince of Persia, when, instead of seeing him leaning against the blinds, and looking out as well as himself, he was extremely astonished to find him stretched motionless at his feet. He judged by this of the strength of his love for Schemselnihar, and could not help wondering at this strange effect of sympathy, which distressed him the more, on account of the place they were then in. However, he did all he could to recover the prince, but without success. Ebn Thaher was in this embarrassing situation, when the confidant of Schemselnihar opened the door of the gallery and ran in, quite out of breath, and like one who did not know what course to pursue. “Come instantly,” cried she, “that I may let you out. Every thing here is in such confusion, that I believe this is the last day we have to live.”—“Alas!” replied Ebn Thaher, in a tone which bespoke his grief, “how can we depart? Pray come hither, and see what a state the prince of Persia is in.” When the slave saw that he had fainted, she ran immediately to get some water, without losing time in conversation, and returned in a few moments.

At length the prince of Persia, after they had sprinkled water on his face, began to recover. When Ebn Thaher saw symptoms of returning life, he said to him, “Prince, we both run a great risk of losing our lives by remaining here any longer; make an effort then, and let us fly as quick as possible.” He was so weak that he could not get up without assistance. Ebn Thaher and the confident gave him their hands, and, supporting him on each side, they got to a little iron gate, which opened on the Tigris. They went out by this gate, and proceeded to the edge of a small canal, which communicated with the river. The confidential slave clapped her hands, and instantly a little boat appeared, rowed by one man, and came towards them. Ali Ebn Becar and his companion embarked in it, and the slave remained on the bank of the canal. As soon as the prince was seated in the boat, he stretched out one hand towards the palace, and placing the other on his heart, “Dear object of my soul,” cried he, in a feeble voice, “receive from this hand the pledge of my faith, while with my other I assure you, that my heart will ever preserve the flame with which it now burns.”

In the mean time the boatman rowed with all his strength, and the confidant walked on the bank of the canal to accompany the prince of Persia and Ebn Thaher till they arrived in the current of the Tigris. Then, as she could not go any farther, she took her leave of them and retired.

The prince of Persia continued extremely weak: Ebn Thaher said all he could to console him, and exhort him to take courage. “Remember,” said he, “that when we disembark, we shall still have a long way to go before we arrive at my house; for to conduct you to yours, which is so much farther, at this hour, and in the state you now are, would, I think, be very imprudent. We might also run a risk of meeting the watch-guard.” They at length got out of the boat, but the prince was so feeble, that he could not walk, which very much increased Ebn Thaher’s embarrassment. He recollected, that he had a friend in the neighbourhood, and he, with great difficulty, dragged the prince thither. His friend received them very cordially, and when he had made them sit down, he asked them from whence they came at that late hour. Ebn Thaher replied, “I learned this evening that a man, who owes me a considerable sum of money, intended to set out on a very long journey; I lost no time, but went in search of him, and in my way I met this young lord, whom you see, and to whom I am under a thousand obligations; as he knows my debtor, he did me the favor to accompany me. We had some difficulty to accomplish our purpose, and bring our gentleman to a right understanding of the business. However, at last we succeeded, and this is the reason of our having staid so late with him. As we were returning, at a few steps from hence, this young lord, for whom I have the utmost regard, felt himself suddenly seized with illness, which induced me to take the liberty of knocking at your door. I flattered myself, that you would have the goodness to do us the favor of giving us a lodging for this night.”

The friend of Ebn Thaher easily swallowed this fable, told them they were welcome, and offered the prince of Persia, whom he did not know, every assistance in his power. But Ebn Thaher, taking upon himself to answer for the prince, said, that his illness was of a nature only to require repose. His friend, also, understood by this speech, that they both wanted rest. He, therefore, conducted them to an apartment, where he left them at liberty to lie down.

The prince of Persia no sooner dropt asleep, than his repose was so disturbed by the most distressing dreams, representing Schemselnihar fainting at the feet of the caliph, that his affliction did not at all subside. Ebn Thaher, who was excessively impatient to get to his own house, not doubting that his family were in the utmost distress, because he made it a rule never to sleep from home, got up and departed very early, after taking leave of his friend, who had risen by day-break to go to early prayers. They at length arrived at Ebn Thaher’s house, when the prince of Persia, who had exerted himself very much to walk so far, threw himself upon a sofa; feeling as much fatigued as if he had been a long journey. As he was not in a state to go home, Ebn Thaher ordered an apartment to be prepared for him: and that none of his people might be uneasy about him, he sent to inform them where he was. In the mean time, he begged the prince to endeavor to make his mind easy; and order every thing about him as he pleased. “I accept, with pleasure,” replied the prince of Persia, “the obliging offers you make; but that I may not be any embarrassment to you, I entreat you to do every thing as if I were not with you. I cannot think of staying here a moment if my presence is to be any restraint upon you.”

As soon as Ebn Thaher had time to recollect himself, he informed his family of every thing that had passed in the palace of Schemselnihar, and finished this recital, by returning thanks to God for having delivered him from the danger he had escaped. The principal domestics belonging to the prince of Persia came to receive their orders from him at Ebn Thaher’s, and soon after several of his friends arrived, who had become acquainted with his indisposition. His friends passed the greatest part of the day with him; and, although their conversation could not entirely banish the sorrowful reflections which occasioned his illness, yet at least it was thus far of advantage, that it gave him some relaxation.

Towards the close of the day he wished to take his leave of Ebn Thaher, but this faithful friend found him still so weak, that he made him remain till the following day. In the mean time, to dissipate his gloom, he gave him, in the evening, a concert of vocal and instrumental music; but this only served to recall to the prince’s memory the one he had enjoyed the preceding night, and only increased his grief instead of assuaging it, so that the next day his indisposition seemed to be augmented. Finding this to be the case, Ebn Thaher no longer opposed the prince’s wish of returning to his own house. He undertook the care of having him conveyed there, and also accompanied him; when he found himself alone with him in his apartment, he represented to him, in strong terms, the necessity of making one great effort to overcome a passion which could not terminate happily either for him or the Favorite. “Ah! dear Ebn Thaher,” cried the prince, “it is easy for you to give this advice: but how difficult is the task for me to follow it! I see, and confess the importance of it, without being able to profit from it. I have already said it; the love I have for Schemselnihar will accompany me to the grave.” When Ebn Thaher perceived that he could make no impression on the mind of the prince, he took his leave, with the intention of retiring, but the prince prevented him. “Obliging Ebn Thaher,” said he to him, “if I have declared to you, that it is not in my power to follow your prudent counsel, I entreat you not to be angry with me, and desist, on that account, from giving me proofs of your friendship. You could not give me a stronger one than to inform me of the fate of my beloved Schemselnihar, if you should hear any tidings of her. The uncertainty I am under respecting her situation, and the dreadful apprehensions I feel on account of her fainting, make me continue in the languid state you so much reproach me for.”—“My lord,” replied Ebn Thaher, “you may surely hope that her fainting has not been productive of any bad consequences, and that her confidential slave will shortly come to acquaint me how the affair terminated. As soon as I know the detail, I will not fail to come and communicate it to you.”

Ebn Thaher left the prince with this hope, and returned home, where he expected all the rest of the day to see the confidant of Schemselnihar arrive, but in vain. She did not make her appearance even on the morrow. The uneasiness he felt to learn the state of the prince’s health, did not allow him to remain any longer without seeing him; and he went to him with the design of exhorting him to have patience. He found him on the bed, and quite as ill as ever; he was also surrounded by his friend, and several physicians, who were exerting all their professional skill to endeavor to discover the cause of his disease. As soon as he perceived Ebn Thaher, he cast a smiling look on him, which denoted two things; one, that he was rejoiced to see him; the other, how deceived his physicians were in their conjectures on his disease, the cause of which they could not guess.

The physicians and the friends retired, one after the other, so that Ebn Thaher remained alone with the patient. He approached his bed, to inquire how he had been since he last saw him. “I must own to you,” replied the prince of Persia, “that my love, which every day acquires increased strength, and the uncertainty of the destiny of the lovely Schemselnihar, heighten my disease every moment; and reduce me to a state which afflicts my relations and friends, and baffles the skill of the physicians, who cannot understand it. You little imagine,” added he, “how much I suffer at seeing so many people, who constantly importune me, and whom I cannot dismiss without incivility. You are the only one whose company affords me any comfort; but do not disguise any thing from me, I conjure you. What news do you bring of Schemselnihar? Have you seen her confidant? What did she say to you?” Ebn Thaher answered, that he had not seen her: and he had no sooner communicated this sorrowful intelligence to the prince, than the tears came in his eyes; he could make no reply, for his heart was full. “Prince,” then resumed Ebn Thaher, “allow me to say, that you are too ingenious in tormenting yourself. In the name of God, dry your tears; some of your people might come in at this moment, and you are well aware how cautious you ought to be to conceal your sentiments, which might be discovered by that means.” Whatever this judicious counsellor might urge, was ineffectual to stop the prince’s tears, which he could not restrain. “Wise Ebn Thaher,” cried he, when he had regained the power of speech, “I can prevent my tongue from revealing the secret of my heart, but I have no power over my tears, while I have so much reason to fear for Schemselnihar. If this adorable and only object of my desires were no longer in this world, I should not survive her one moment.”—“Do not harbour so afflicting a thought,” replied Ebn Thaher, “Schemselnihar still lives; you must not doubt it. If she has not sent you any account of herself, it is probably because she has not been able to find an opportunity, and I hope this day will not pass without your hearing of her.” He added many other consoling speeches, and then he took his leave.

Ebn Thaher was scarcely returned to his house, when the confidant of Schemselnihar arrived. She had a sorrowful air, from which he conceived an unfavorable presage. He inquired after her mistress. “First,” said she, “give me some intelligence of yourselves, for I was in great anxiety on your account, seeing you depart with the prince of Persia in such a state as he appeared to be.” Ebn Thaher related to her all she wished to know; and when he had concluded his narrative, the slave began hers: “If the prince of Persia,” said she, “suffers on my mistress’s account, she does not endure less pain for him. After I had quitted you,” continued she, “I returned to the saloon, where I found Schemselnihar, who had not yet recovered from her fainting fit, notwithstanding all the remedies that had been applied. The caliph was seated next to her, showing every symptom of real grief. He inquired of all the women, and of me in particular, if we had any knowledge of the cause of her indisposition; but we all kept the secret, and we replied quite contrary to what we knew to be the fact. We were, however, all in tears to see her suffer so long, and we omitted nothing that we thought might relieve her. It was full midnight when she came to herself. The caliph, who had had the patience to wait for this moment, showed great joy, and asked Schemselnihar what could have occasioned this illness. As soon as she heard his voice, she made an effort to sit up; and having kissed his feet, before he had time to prevent her, “Sire,” said she, “I ought to complain of Heaven for not suffering me to expire at the feet of your majesty, to convince you by that, how sincerely I am penetrated by the sense of all your goodness to me.”

“I am well persuaded that you love me,” replied the caliph, “but I command you to take care of yourself for my sake; you have probably made some exertion to-day, which has been the cause of this indisposition; you must be more careful, and I beg you to avoid a repetition of any thing that may be injurious. I am happy to see you in a better state, and I advise you to pass the night here, instead of returning to your apartment, lest the motion should be hurtful to you.” He then ordered some wine to be brought, of which he made her take a small quantity, to give her strength, after which he took his leave of her, and retired to his chamber.

“As soon as the caliph was gone, my mistress made signs to me to draw near. She anxiously inquired after you. I assured her, that you had long since quitted the palace, and I set her mind at ease on that subject. I took care not to mention the fainting of the prince of Persia, for fear she should relapse into the same state, from which we had with so much difficulty recovered her. But my precaution was useless, as you will shortly hear. ‘O, prince,’ cried she, ‘then, from this time I renounce all pleasures, so long as my eyes shall be deprived of the gratification of beholding you; if I understand your heart, I only follow your example. You will not cease your tears, until you have rejoined me; and it is but just, that I should weep and lament, until you are restored to my prayers.’ On concluding these words, which she pronounced in a manner that denoted the violence of her love, she fainted a second time in my arms.

“My companions and I were a long while in restoring her to her senses again; at length, life returned; I then said to her, ‘Are you resolved, madam, to suffer yourself to die, and to make us die with you? I conjure you, in the name of the prince of Persia, for whom you are so interested, to endeavour to preserve your life. Pray be persuaded, and make those efforts, which you owe to yourself, to your love for the prince, and to our attachment to you.’—‘I am much obliged to you,’ returned she, ‘for your care, your attention, and your advice. But, alas! how can they be serviceable to me? We are not permitted to flatter ourselves with any hope; and it is only in the bosom of the grave, that we may expect a period to our torments.’

“One of my companions wished to give a turn to these melancholy ideas, by singing a little air to her lute; but she desired her to be silent, and ordered her with the rest to quit the room. She detained only me, to spend the night with her. Heavens! what a night it was; she passed it in tears and lamentations, and calling continually on the name of the prince of Persia, she complained of the cruelty of her fate, which had destined her for the caliph, whom she could not love; and not to be united to the prince of Persia, of whom she was so passionately enamoured.

“The next day, as it was not convenient for her to remain in the saloon, I assisted to remove her into her own apartment, where she was no sooner arrived, than all the physicians of the palace came to see her, by order of the caliph; and it was not long before he himself made his appearance. The remedies prescribed by the physicians for Schemselnihar, had no effect; for they were ignorant of the cause of her illness; and the restraint she felt in the presence of the caliph, only increased the disease. She has, however, enjoyed a little rest this night, and as soon as she awoke, she charged me to come in search of you, to obtain some intelligence of the prince of Persia.”—“I have already informed you of the state he is in,” replied Ebn Thaher, “so return to your mistress, and assure her that the prince of Persia expected to hear from her with as much impatience as she could feel on his account. Exhort her, above all, to moderate and conquer her feelings, lest some word should escape her lips before the caliph, which might prove the destruction of us all.”—“As for me,” resumed the slave, “I am in constant apprehension, from the little command she has over herself; I took the liberty of telling her what I thought on that subject, and I am persuaded she will not take it amiss if I speak to her on your part also.”

Ebn Thaher, who had but just left the prince of Persia, did not judge it proper to return again so soon, and neglect some important business, which he found would engage him at home; he did not go till the close of day. The prince was alone, and was not better than in the morning. “Ebn Thaher,” said he, when he saw him enter the room, “you have, no doubt, many friends; but these friends do not know your worth, which I am better acquainted with, by witnessing the zeal, the care, and the pains you take, when an opportunity offers of obliging them. I am quite confused at all you do for me, and it is done with so much friendship and affection, that I shall never be able to acquit myself towards you.”

“Prince,” replied Ebn Thaher, “let us drop that subject, I beg; I am not only ready to lose one of my eyes to preserve one of yours, but even to sacrifice my life for you; but this is not the business I am come upon; I come to tell you, that Schemselnihar sent her confidential slave to me, to inquire how you are, and at the same time to give you some information respecting her. You may imagine, that I did not say any thing but what must confirm her belief of the excess of your love for her mistress, and of the constancy with which you adore her.” Ebn Thaher then gave him an exact detail of every thing the slave had told him. The prince heard it with all the different emotions of fear, jealousy, tenderness, and compassion, which such a relation was likely to inspire; and made on each circumstance such reflections, either of an afflicting or consoling nature, as so passionate a lover could be capable of.

The conversation lasted so long, that the night being far advanced, the prince of Persia made Ebn Thaher remain at his house. The next morning, as this faithful friend was returning home, he saw a woman coming towards him, whom he soon recognised to be the confidential slave of Schemselnihar: when she came up to him, “My mistress,” said she, “salutes you, and I come from her to beg you to deliver this letter to the prince of Persia.” The friendly Ebn Thaher took the letter, and returned to the prince, accompanied by the confidant.

When they had got there, he begged her to remain a few minutes in the anti-chamber, and wait for him. As soon as the prince saw him, he anxiously inquired what news he had to announce. “The best you can possibly wish,” replied Ebn Thaher, “you are beloved as tenderly as you love. The confidant of Schemselnihar is in your anti-chamber; she brings you a letter from your mistress, and only waits your orders to present herself before you.”—“Let her come in,” cried the prince, in a transport of joy; and saying this he raised himself in his bed to receive her.

As the attendants of the prince had left the room when Ebn Thaher entered it, that he might be alone with their master, Ebn Thaher went to open the door himself, and desire the confidant to come in. The prince recollected her, and received her in a very obliging manner. “My lord,” said she, “I know all the pains you have suffered, since I had the honour of conducting you to the boat, which waited to take you back; but I hope, that the letter I bring you will contribute to your recovery.” She then presented to him the letter; he took it, and after having kissed it several times, he opened it, and read the following words:

“SCHEMSELNIHAR TO ALI EBN BECAR, PRINCE OF PERSIA.

“The person who will deliver this letter to you, will give you an account of me better than I can myself; for I know nothing, since I ceased beholding you. Deprived of your presence, I seek to continue the illusion, and converse with you by means of these ill-formed lines, which afford me some pleasure, while I am prevented the happiness of speaking to you.

“Patience, they say, is the remedy for all evils: yet those I suffer are increased instead of relieved by it. Although your image is indelibly engraven on my heart, my eyes nevertheless wish again to behold the original; and their sight will forsake them, if they remain deprived of that gratification for any length of time. Dare I flatter myself, that yours experience the same impatience to see me? Yes, I may; they have sufficiently proved it to me by their tender glances. Happy would Schemselnihar be, happy would you be, prince, if my wishes, which are conformable to yours, were not opposed by insurmountable obstacles! These obstacles occasion me an affliction so much the more poignant, as they are the cause of sorrow to you.

“These sentiments, which my fingers trace, and in expressing of which I feel such inconceivable pleasure, that I cannot repeat them too often, proceed from the bottom of my heart; from that incurable wound you have made in it; a wound which I bless a thousand times, notwithstanding the cruel sufferings I endure in your absence. I should little heed all that opposes our love, were I only permitted to see you occasionally without restraint. You would then be mine; and what more could I desire?

“Do not imagine that my words convey more than I feel. Alas! whatever expressions I may use, I shall still think much more than I can ever say. My eyes, which never cease looking for you, and incessantly weep till they shall behold you again; my afflicted heart which seeks but you; my sighs which escape my lips, whenever I think on you, and that is continually; my imagination which never reflects any object but my beloved prince; the complaints I utter to Heaven of the rigour of my fate; in short, my melancholy, my uneasiness, my sufferings from which I have had no respite since I lost sight of you, are all sufficient pledges of the truth of what I write.

“Am I not truly unfortunate to be born to love, love, without indulging the hope of possessing the object of my affections? This distracting reflection overpowers me to such a degree, that I should die, were I not persuaded that you love me. But this sweet consolation counteracts my despair, and attaches me to life. Tell me that you love me still. I will preserve your letter with precious care; I will read it a thousand times a-day; and I shall then bear my sorrows with less impatience. I pray that heaven may no longer be irritated against us, and may grant us an opportunity of telling each other, without restraint, the tender affection we feel, and that we will never cease to love. Farewell.

“I salute Ebn Thaher, to whom we each have so many obligations.”

The prince of Persia was not satisfied with reading this letter only once; he thought he had not bestowed sufficient attention on it; he read it again more deliberately, and while thus engaged he alternately uttered deep sighs and wept; he then would burst into transports of joy and tenderness, according to the different emotions he experienced from the contents of the letter. In short, he could not withdraw his eyes from the characters, traced by so dear a hand, and he was going to read it a third time, when Ebn Thaher represented to him, that the slave had no time to lose, and that he must prepare an answer. “Alas!” cried the prince, “how can I reply to so obliging and kind a letter? In what terms shall I describe the state of my soul? My mind is agitated by a thousand distressing thoughts, and my sentiments are destroyed, before I have time to express them by others, which in their turn are erased as soon as formed. While my body is so much in unison with the situation of my mind, how shall I be able to hold the paper and guide the cane to form the letters?”

Saying this, he drew from a little writing-case, which was near him, some paper, a cut cane, and an ink-horn; but before he began to write, he gave the letter of Schemselnihar to Ebn Thaher, and begged him to hold it open whilst he wrote, that by occasionally casting his eyes over it, he might be better enabled to answer it. He took up the writing-cane to begin; but the tears, which flowed from his eyes on the paper, frequently obliged him to stop to allow them a free current. He at length finished his letter, and giving it to Ebn Thaher, “Do me the favor to read it,” said he, “and see, if the agitation my spirits are in, has allowed me to write a proper answer.” Ebn Thaher took it, and read as follows:

“THE PRINCE OF PERSIA TO SCHEMSELNIHAR.

“I was plunged in the deepest affliction, when your letter was delivered into my hands. At the sight of it alone I was transported with a joy I cannot express; but on reading the lines, which your beautiful hand had traced, my eyes were sensible of greater pleasure than that which they lost when yours so suddenly closed on the evening you fell senseless at my rival’s feet. The words contained in your obliging letter, are so many luminous rays that enliven the obscurity in which my soul was enveloped. They convince me how much you suffer for me, and also prove, that you are not ignorant of what I endure for you, and thus console me in my pain. At one moment they cause my tears to flow in abundant streams; at another, they inflame my heart with an unextinguishable fire, which supports it, and prevents my expiring with grief. I have not tasted one instant’s repose since our too cruel separation. Your letter alone procured me some relief from my misery. I preserved an uninterrupted silence till it was placed in my hands; but that has restored speech to me. I was wrapped in the most profound melancholy; but that has inspired me with a joy, which instantly proclaimed itself in my eyes and countenance. My surprise at receiving a favor so unmerited on my part, was so great, that I knew not how to express myself to testify my gratitude. In short, after having kissed it many times, as the precious pledge of your goodness, I perused and re-perused it till I was quite lost in the excess of my happiness. You tell me to say, that I love you still; ah! had my love for you been less passionate, less tender than that which occupies my whole soul, could I have done otherwise than adore you after all the proofs you give me of so uncommon an affection? Yes, I love you, my dearest life; and shall, to the end of my existence, glory in the pure flame which you have kindled in my heart. I will never complain of the vivid fire which consumes it; and, however rigorous the pains which your absence occasions may be, I will support them with constancy and firmness, encouraged by the hope of beholding you again. Would to God it were to-day, and that, instead of sending you this letter, I might be permitted to present myself before you, and assure you that I die for love of you. My tears prevent me from adding any more. Farewell.”

Ebn Thaher could not read the last lines without shedding tears himself. He returned the letter to the prince, assuring him it needed no correction. The prince folded it up, and when he had sealed it: “I beg you to approach,” said he to the confidential slave, who had retired a little; “this is the answer I have written to the letter of your dear mistress. I entreat you to take it to her, and to salute her from me.” The slave took the letter, and retired with Ebn Thaher, who, after he had walked with her some way, left her and returned to his house, where he began to make some serious reflections on the love intrigue in which he found himself so unfortunately and deeply engaged. He considered that the prince of Persia and Schemselnihar, notwithstanding the strong interest they had in concealing their connection, behaved with so little discretion, that it could not long remain a secret. He drew from thence all the unfavorable conclusions which must naturally suggest themselves to a man of good sense. “If Schemselnihar,” thought he, “was not a lady of such high rank, I would exert myself to the utmost of my abilities to make her and her lover happy; but as she is the favorite of the caliph, no one can aspire to obtain her with impunity who has gained his affections. His anger will first fall on Schemselnihar; the prince will not escape with life; and I shall be involved in his misfortune. But I have my honor, my peace of mind, my family, and my property to take care of; I must then, while it is in my power, endeavour to extricate myself from so perilous a situation.”

His mind was occupied with thoughts of this nature for the whole of that day. The following morning he went to the prince of Persia, with the intention of making one last effort to induce him to conquer his unfortunate passion. In fact, he represented to him what he had before mentioned, to no effect; that he would do much better to exert all his courage to overcome this attachment to Schemselnihar, than to suffer himself to be led away to destruction by its means; that his love for her was of a more dangerous nature to himself, as his rival was so powerful. “In short, my lord,” added he, “if you will take my advice, you will endeavour to overcome your affection; otherwise you run the risk of causing the destruction of Schemselnihar, whose life ought to be dearer to you than your own. I give you this counsel as a friend; and some day you will thank me for it.”

The prince listened to Ebn Thaher with evident impatience; nevertheless he allowed him to finish what he wished to say; but when he had concluded, he said, “Ebn Thaher, do you suppose that I can cease loving Schemselnihar, who returns my affection with so much tenderness? She does not hesitate to expose her life for me, and can you imagine, that the care of preserving mine should occupy me a single moment? No; whatever misfortunes may be the consequence, I will love Schemselnihar to my latest breath.”

Ebn Thaher, offended with the obstinacy of the prince, left him abruptly, and returned home: where, recollecting his reflections on the preceding day, he began to consider very seriously what course he should pursue.

While he was thus occupied, a jeweller, an intimate friend of his, came to see him. This jeweller had observed, that the confidential slave of Schemselnihar had been with Ebn Thaher more frequently than usual: and that he had been almost incessantly with the prince of Persia, whose indisposition was known to every one, although the cause was not; all this had created some suspicions in the jeweller’s mind. As Ebn Thaher appeared to be absorbed in thought, he supposed that some important affair occasioned it; and thinking he had hit on it, he asked him what business the slave of Schemselnihar had with him. Ebn Thaher was a little confused at this question; but not choosing to confess the truth, he replied, that it was only for some trifling thing that she came to him so often. “You do not speak sincerely,” resumed the jeweller, “and by your dissimulation you will make me suspect, that this trifle is of a nature more important than I had at first supposed it.”

Ebn Thaher, finding that his friend pressed him so closely, said, “It is true; this affair is of the utmost importance. I had determined to keep it a secret; but as I know you take a lively interest in every thing that concerns me, I will entrust you with the truth, rather than suffer you to make conclusions for which there is no foundation. I do not enjoin you to secrecy, for you will be sensible, from what I am going to relate, how impossible it would be to keep such a promise.” After this preface, he related to him the amours of Schemselnihar and the prince of Persia. “You are aware,” added he, at the conclusion, “in what estimation I am held by the nobles and ladies of highest rank both in the court and city. What a disgrace for me, if this story becomes known! But what do I say? It would be absolute destruction to my whole family as well as to myself; this consideration embarrasses me the most: but I have resolved how to act: I owe it to my safety, and I must be firm. I am going with the greatest diligence to call in my debts, and satisfy those who are my creditors; and after I have secured all my property, I will retire to Balsora, where I will remain till the storm I see gathering over my head is passed. The friendship I feel for Schemselnihar, and for the prince of Persia, makes me very anxious on their account; I pray God to make them sensible of the danger to which they expose themselves, and to preserve them. But if their luckless destiny condemns their attachment to be known to the caliph, I at least shall be sheltered from his resentment; for I do not suspect them of sufficient malice to entangle me in their misfortune. Their ingratitude would be of the blackest die, if they acted thus; they would then repay with baseness the services I have done them, and the good advice I have given, particularly to the prince of Persia, who might still withdraw them from the precipice, if he were willing, and save his mistress as well as himself. It would be easy for him to leave Bagdad, as I shall; and absence would insensibly eradicate a passion which will only increase while he remains in this city.”

The jeweller heard this recital from Ebn Thaher with very great astonishment. “What you have now told me,” said he, “is of so much consequence, that I cannot comprehend how Schemselnihar and the prince of Persia could be so imprudent as to give way to such a violent passion. Whatever inclination they might feel for each other, instead of yielding to its influence, they ought to have resisted it with firmness, and made a better use of their reason. Could they be blind to the dreadful consequences of their connection? How sadly are they mistaken, if they suppose it can remain secret! I foresee, as well as yourself, the fatal termination of this affair. But you are prudent and wise, and I entirely approve the resolution you have formed; it is only by putting it in execution, that you can escape the direful events you so justly fear.” After this conversation, the jeweller arose, and took his leave of Ebn Thaher; but before he left him, the latter entreated him by the friendship which united them, not to reveal to any one what he had related to him. “Be easy on that score,” replied the jeweller, “I will keep the secret at the peril of my life.”

Two days after this, the jeweller happened to pass by the shop of Ebn Thaher, and observing that it was shut up, he concluded he had put in execution the design he had communicated to him. To be quite sure, however, he inquired of a neighbour, if he knew why it was not open. The neighbour replied, that he knew no more than that Ebn Thaher had set off on a journey. This was all the jeweller required; and the first person he thought of, was the prince of Persia. “Unhappy prince,” thought he, “how grieved you will be to learn this intelligence! By what means will you now be able to hold any intercourse with Schemselnihar? I fear despair will put a period to your existence. I feel compassion for you; and must endeavour to replace the loss of so timid a friend.”

The business which had led him out was not of immediate consequence; he therefore neglected that, and although he only knew the prince from having sold him some jewellery, he nevertheless went to his house. He requested one of the servants he met at the door, to tell his master that he wanted to speak to him on an affair of the greatest importance. The servant soon returned to the jeweller, and introduced him into the apartment of the prince, whom he found reclining on a sofa, with his head on the cushion. The prince, recollecting that he had seen him before, got up to receive him and give him welcome; and, after having begged him to sit down, he asked him, if he could render him any service; or if he came on business which related to him. “Prince,” replied the jeweller, “although I have not the honor to be much known to you, yet the zealous desire I have of serving you, has made me take the liberty of coming to acquaint you of a circumstance which concerns you; I hope you will pardon this freedom, as it proceeds from a good intention.”

After this preface, the jeweller began his story, and proceeded thus: “Prince, you will allow me the honor of telling you, that the conformity of our minds, together with some affairs we had to transact with each other, has given rise to a firm friendship which exists between Ebn Thaher and myself. I know his acquaintance with you, and that he has, till now, exerted himself to serve you to the utmost of his ability; this I learned from his own lips, for we never practise concealment with each other. I just now passed by his shop, and was surprised to find it shut up. I inquired the reason of one of his neighbours, who told me, that Ebn Thaher had taken his leave of him, and of the other neighbours, two days since; at the same time offering them his services at Balsora, whither he said he was going on an affair of considerable importance. I was not thoroughly satisfied with this answer; and the interest I feel in whatever concerns him, induced me to come to ask you, if you knew any thing particular about this sudden departure.”

At this speech, to which the jeweller had given that turn he thought most likely to forward his design, the prince of Persia changed colour, and looked al the jeweller with an air which evidently proved how much he was afflicted at this intelligence. “What you tell me,” said he, “astonishes me; I could not have met with a more mortifying occurrence. Yes,” cried he, the tears flowing from his eyes, “I have no hope left, if what you tell me is true! Ebn Thaher, who was my only consolation and support, forsakes me! I no longer seek to live after so cruel a blow!”

The jeweller had heard enough to be fully convinced of the violence of the prince’s love, with which Ebn Thaher had already acquainted him. Simple friendship does not express itself in such strong language; love, alone, is capable of inspiring sentiments so animated.

The prince remained for some minutes absorbed in the most distracting reflections. He at length raised his head, and addressing one of his attendants, “Go,” said he, “to Ebn Thaher’s house; speak to some of his servants, and inquire if it be true, that he is set off for Balsora. Run there instantly; and return as quickly as possible, that I may learn what you have heard.” While the servant was gone, the jeweller endeavoured to converse with the prince on indifferent subjects, but he seemed totally inattentive; his mind was lost in thought. Sometimes he could not persuade himself, that Ebn Thaher was really gone; then he felt convinced of it, when he recollected the conversation he had held with his friend the last time he had seen him, and the abrupt manner in which he left him.

At length, the servant of the prince returned, and said, that he had spoken with one of the people belonging to Ebn Thaher, who assured him, that he was no longer in Bagdad, and that he had set off two days since for Balsora. “As I was coming out of the house of Ebn Thaher,” continued the servant, “a well dressed female slave accosted me; and having asked me, if I had not the honor of being one of your attendants, she said, that she wanted to speak to you, and begged me at the same time to allow her to come with me. She is in the antichamber, and, I believe, has a letter to deliver from some person of consequence.” The prince immediately desired that she might be admitted; not doubting that it was the confidential slave of Schemselnihar, whom, in fact, she proved to be.

The jeweller knew her again from having met her sometimes at Ebn Thaher’s, who told him who she was. She could not have arrived at a more seasonable time, to prevent the prince from giving way to despair. She saluted him, as he did in return. The jeweller had risen as soon as she entered, and had withdrawn a little to leave them at liberty to converse together. The slave, after having remained some time with the prince, took her leave, and went away. She left him quite different from what he was before, his eyes appeared more sparkling, and his countenance more cheerful, which led the jeweller to suppose, that the good slave had been saying something favorable to his attachment.

The jeweller, having resumed his place near the prince, said to him smiling, “I see, prince, you have some important affairs at the palace of the caliph.” The prince, surprised and alarmed at this speech, replied, “What induces you to think, that I have any affairs at the palace of the caliph?”—“I conclude so,” resumed the jeweller, “from the slave who has just left you.”—“And to whom do you suppose this slave belongs?” inquired the prince.—“To Schemselnihar, the Favorite of the caliph,” replied the jeweller. “I know this slave,” continued he, “and her mistress also, who has sometimes done me the honor of coming to my shop to buy jewellery. I know, moreover, that this slave is admitted into all the secrets of Schemselnihar; I have seen her for some days past, continually walking about the streets with a pensive air, from which, I imagine, she is now concerned in something of consequence, which relates to her mistress.”

These words of the jeweller confused the prince of Persia. He would not talk to me thus, thought he, if he did not suspect, or rather if he did not know, my secret. He remained silent for some minutes, not knowing how to act. At length he spoke, and said to the jeweller, “You tell me some things, which lead me to think you know still more than you say. It is very necessary to my peace of mind, that I should know the whole; I entreat you, therefore, to conceal nothing from me.”

The jeweller, who could not desire a better opportunity, then gave him an exact detail of the conversation he had had with Ebn Thaher; and thus let him know, that he was apprised of the intercourse that subsisted between him and Schemselnihar; he did not omit telling him, that Ebn Thaher, alarmed at the danger which his office of confidant placed him in, had imparted to him the design he had formed, of quitting Bagdad for Balsora, where he intended to remain until the storm, which he dreaded, was appeased. “This he has put in execution,” continued the jeweller, “and I am surprised how he could prevail on himself to abandon you in the state which he described you to be in. As for me, prince, I confess to you, that I was moved with compassion for your sufferings, and I come to offer you my services; and if you will do me the honor to accept them, I promise to observe the same fidelity towards you as Ebn Thaher has done; and engage, moreover, to continue more firm and constant. I am ready to sacrifice my life and honor in your service; and, that you may have no doubts of my sincerity, I swear by every thing most sacred in our holy religion, to preserve your secret inviolably. Be assured, then, prince, that in me you will find a friend equal to the one you have lost.”

This speech afforded the prince of Persia great consolation, and reconciled him to the voluntary banishment of Ebn Thaher. “I feel great satisfaction,” said he, “in finding in you so good a substitute for the loss I have suffered. I cannot sufficiently express how much I think myself indebted to you; and, I trust, that God will amply recompense your generosity. I accept, therefore, with great pleasure, the kind offer you have made me. Should you suppose,” continued the prince, “that Schemselnihar’s confidential slave has just been talking to me of you? She told me, that it was you who advised Ebn Thaher to leave Bagdad. These were the very last words she said, as she left me; and she seemed thoroughly persuaded of their truth. She did you, however, great injustice; and, after every thing you have now informed me of, I have no doubt but she was completely deceived.”—“Prince,” replied the jeweller, “I have had the honor to give you both a literal and a faithful narrative of the conversation that took place between Ebn Thaher and myself. It is true, that when he told me of his intention of retiring to Balsora, I did not oppose his design: I even told him, I thought him both prudent and wise; but this ought not to prevent you from putting your whole confidence in me; for I am ready to afford you all my services; and to exert myself most warmly and indefatigably in your cause. If you think otherwise, and decline my interference, I will, nevertheless, as I have most solemnly sworn, religiously preserve your secret.”—“I have already told you,” replied the prince, “that I place not the least confidence in any thing the slave has said. It is her zeal only that has raised these suspicions in her mind, and which have not, in fact, the least foundation. You ought, therefore, like myself, to excuse her on that account.”

They continued their conversation for some time longer, and consulted together about the best and most suitable means of keeping open a correspondence between the prince and Schemselnihar. The first thing they settled was, that it was necessary to undeceive the confidant, who was so unjustly prejudiced against the jeweller. The prince took upon himself the task of explaining this matter the first time she came to him; and also to desire her, whenever she brought any more letters, or had any message from her mistress, to carry them directly to the jeweller. In fact, they thought it improper, that she should make her appearance at the prince’s house so often; because she might by those means, perhaps, cause a discovery of what it was so much the interest of all parties to conceal. The jeweller then got up; and after having again assured the prince he might place an entire confidence in him, took his leave.

As the jeweller was going from the prince of Persia’s, he observed a letter in the street, which some one seemed to have dropped. As it was not sealed, he unfolded it, and found it written in the following terms:

“SCHEMSELNIHAR TO THE PRINCE OF PERSIA.

“I am now about to inform you, by means of my slave, of a circumstance which gives me no less affliction than it will occasion you. By losing Ebn Thaher we truly suffer a great deal; but do not let this, my dear prince, prevent you from taking care of yourself. If the friend, in whom we trusted, has abandoned us through a dread of the consequences, let us consider it as an evil we could not avoid; we must, therefore, console ourselves under the misfortune. I own to you, that Ebn Thaher has forsaken us at a time when his presence and aid is most necessary; but let us fortify ourselves with patience under this most unexpected event; nor let our affection fail us even for an instant. Strengthen your mind against this disastrous event. Remember, we seldom obtain what we wish, without difficulty. Do not then let this damp our courage; let us hope, that Heaven will be favorable; and, after all our numerous sufferings, we shall at last arrive at the full and happy completion of our wishes. Farewell.”

While the jeweller had been engaged with his visit to the prince of Persia, the confidant had had time to return to the palace, and inform her mistress of the unpleasant intelligence of Ebn Thaher’s departure. Schemselnihar had in consequence immediately written the foregoing letter, and sent her slave back to carry it to the prince without delay; and the confidant, as she went along, had accidentally dropped it.

The jeweller was much pleased at finding it, as it afforded him an excellent method of justifying himself in the mind of the confidant, and bringing the matter to the point he wished. As he finished reading it, he perceived the slave herself, who was looking about with great distress and anxiety to recover it. He directly folded it up, and put it in his bosom, but the confidant, having observed his motions, ran up to him; “Sir,” said she, “I have dropped the letter, which you had just now in your hand; I beg you to have the goodness to return it me.” The jeweller pretended not to hear her, and continued walking on, till he got home, without answering a word: he did not shut the door after him, that the confidant, who still followed him, might, if she pleased, come in. This she did not fail to do, and when she had reached his apartment, she said to him, “Sir, you can make no use of the letter you have found, and you would have no difficulty in giving it me again, if you knew from whom it came, and to whom it is addressed. Give me leave to tell you also, that you do not act justly by detaining it.”

Before he returned any answer to the slave, the jeweller made her sit down; he then said to her, “Is it not true, that the letter in question is from Schemselnihar, and that it is addressed to the prince of Persia?” The slave, who did not expect this question, changed colour; “This inquiry seems to embarrass you,” continued he, “but understand that indiscreet curiosity is not my motive for asking this; I could have given you the letter in the street, but I wished to induce you to follow me here, because I am desirous of explaining my motives to you. Tell me, is it just to impute a disastrous event to any one who has not in the most distant manner contributed to it. This, however, is exactly what you did, when you told the prince of Persia, that I advised Ebn Thaher to leave Bagdad for his own security. I will not, however, lose time in justifying myself to you; it is enough that the prince of Persia is fully persuaded of my innocence in this point. I will only say, that instead of having aided Ebn Thaher in his departure, I am extremely mortified at it; not so much through my friendship for him, as through compassion for the situation in which he left the prince, whose intercourse with Schemselnihar he made me acquainted with. As soon as I was certain that Ebn Thaher was no longer in Bagdad, I ran and presented myself to the prince, with whom you found me; I informed him of this news, and, at the same time, offered him the same services which Ebn Thaher had afforded him. I have succeeded in my design, and provided you place as much confidence in me as you did in Ebn Thaher, it will be your own fault if I am not equally useful. Give an account to your mistress of what I have now said to you, and assure her, that though I may lose my life by engaging in so dangerous an enterprise, I shall never repent having sacrificed myself for two lovers so worthy of each other.”

The confidential slave listened to what the jeweller said with great satisfaction. She requested him to pardon her for the bad opinion she had entertained of him, which arose merely from the zeal she felt for Schemselnihar’s interests. “I much rejoice,” added she, “that the Favorite and the prince of Persia have been so fortunate as to find in you so proper a person to supply the place of Ebn Thaher: and I will not fail to give my mistress a favorable account of the strong inclination you have to serve her.

After the confidant had thus expressed the pleasure it afforded her to find the jeweller so disposed to be useful to Schemselnihar and the prince of Persia, he took the letter out of his bosom and gave it her. “Take it,” he cried, “and carry it immediately to the prince; and then come back this way, that I may see the answer which he sends. And do not also forget to give him an account of our conversation.” The slave took the letter, and carried it to the prince of Persia, who answered it without any delay. She then returned to the jeweller’s, to show him the answer, which contained these words:

“THE PRINCE OF PERSIA TO SCHEMSELNIHAR.

“Your dear letter has produced a great effect upon me: but yet not so great as I could wish. You endeavour to console me for the loss of Ebn Thaher. Alas! however sensible I may be of it, this is only the least part of the evils I endure. You know these evils; and you know, that your presence can alone cure them. When, alas, will the period arrive, in which I can enjoy that dear leisure without the dread of being again deprived of it? How distant does it appear to me! Rather, perhaps, we ought not to flatter ourselves, that we shall ever meet again. You tell me to take care of myself. I will obey you, since I have made every inclination of my heart subservient to you. Farewell.”

When he had read this letter, the jeweller returned it to the confidant, who, as she was departing, said to him; “I am going, sir, to induce my mistress to place the same confidence in you which she did in Ebn Thaher. To-morrow you will have some intelligence from me.” And he saw her, in fact, arrive the very next day with great satisfaction marked in her countenance. “The sight of you alone,” said he, “proves to me, that you found Schemselnihar in the disposition of mind you wished.”—“It is true,” she answered, “and you shall hear the manner in which I brought it about. I found her yesterday,” continued the confidant, “waiting for me with the greatest impatience. I put the letter of the prince into her hand, and she read it, while her eyes were bathed in tears. As I perceived she was going to give herself up to her accustomed grief, ‘Madam,’ said I, ‘it is, without doubt, the departure of Ebn Thaher which so much afflicts you: but permit me to conjure you, in the name of God, not to alarm yourself any more on that subject. We have found another like himself, who has offered to engage in your service with equal zeal, and what is of more consequence, with greater courage!’ I then mentioned you to her,” continued the slave, “and told her the motives which induced you to go to the prince of Persia. In short, I assured her, that you would ever preserve the secret intercourse between her and the prince inviolable, and that you were determined to aid their attachment with all your power. She appeared greatly consoled at this speech, ‘What obligation,’ she exclaimed, ‘ought we to feel ourselves under to the excellent man you have mentioned! I wish to know him, to see him, to hear from his own lips what you have now told me; and to thank him for his almost unheard-of generosity towards persons who have not the slightest reason to expect him to interest himself in so fervent a manner. His sight will afford me pleasure; and I will omit nothing that I think will confirm him in his good opinions and intentions. Do not neglect to go to him to-morrow morning and bring him here.’ You must therefore, sir, if you please, take the trouble to go with me to her palace.”

This speech of the confidant’s very much embarrassed the jeweller. “Your mistress,” he replied, “must permit me to say, that she has not thought sufficiently of what she has required of me. The free access which Ebn Thaher had to the caliph, gave him admission every where; and the officers and attendants, who knew him, suffered him to go backwards and forwards to the palace of Schemselnihar without molestation. But how dare I enter it! You must yourself see that the thing is impossible. I entreat you, therefore, to explain to Schemselnihar the reasons which ought to prevent me from giving her this satisfaction, and represent to her all the unpleasant consequences that might happen from it. And if she will consider the matter again in the slightest degree, she will easily see, that she exposes me to a very great danger without the least use.”

The confidential slave endeavoured to encourage the jeweller. “Do you suppose,” she said, “that Schemselnihar is so regardless as to expose you, from whom she expects a continuance of the most important services, to the least danger, in ordering you to come to her? Recollect yourself; and you will find, there is not even the appearance of danger. Both my lady and myself are too much interested in this affair to engage you in it without due consideration. You may, therefore, very safely trust me to conduct you: and after it is all finished, you will readily enough acknowledge, that your alarms are without any foundation.”

The jeweller yielded to the arguments of the confidant; and got up to follow her. In spite, however, of all the courage he piqued himself upon possessing, his fears so far got the better of him, that he trembled from head to foot. “From the state which I perceive you are in,” cried she, “I am sure you had better remain at home, and Schemselnihar pursue some other mode of seeing you: and I have no doubt, from the great desire she feels, that she will come and find you out herself. This being the case, sir, do not go out; for I am convinced it will not be long before you will see her arrive.” The confidant was not wrong in her conjectures; for she had no sooner informed Schemselnihar of the fright of the jeweller, than the latter instantly made preparations to go to his house.

He received her with every mark of the most profound respect. As soon as she had sat down, for she was a little fatigued with her walk, she took off her veil, and discovered so much beauty to the eyes of the jeweller, that he instantly confessed, in his own mind, how excusable it was in the prince of Persia to have devoted his heart to the Favorite of the caliph. She then accosted the jeweller in the kindest manner, and said to him, “I could not possibly become acquainted with the great interest you take in the welfare of the prince of Persia and myself, without instantly forming the design of thanking you in person; and I am truly grateful to Heaven for having so soon, and so well, supplied the great loss we suffered in Ebn Thaher.”

Schemselnihar added many other obliging things in her speech to the jeweller; and then returned to her palace. The jeweller himself instantly went, and gave the prince of Persia an account of this visit; who, when he saw him arrive, called out, “I have been waiting for you with the greatest impatience. The confidential slave has brought me a letter from her mistress: but this letter has afforded me no comfort. Although the amiable Schemselnihar may endeavour to give me every encouragement, yet I dare not indulge my hopes, and my patience is quite exhausted. I know not what plan to follow. The departure of Ebn Thaher has thrown me into despair. He was my support; and, in losing him, I have lost every thing; for in the free access he had to Schemselnihar, I did flatter myself with some hopes.”

At these words, which the prince uttered in a very expressive manner, and so rapidly that the jeweller had no opportunity of putting in a word before, he said, “No one, prince, can take a greater interest in your misfortunes than I do; and if you will have the patience to listen to me, you will find, that I can afford you some comfort. At this speech the prince held his tongue, and was attentive, “I very clearly see,” added the jeweller, “that the only means of satisfying you, is to enable you to converse with and see Schemselnihar without any restraint. This is a satisfaction I wish to procure you; and I will set about it to-morrow. It will not, I trust, be necessary to expose you to the risk of going to the palace of Schemselnihar? you know, from experience, how dangerous a plan that is. I am acquainted with a much more proper place for this interview; and where you will both be in safety.” When the jeweller had finished this speech, the prince embraced him with the greatest transport.

“You reanimate, by this delightful promise,” he exclaimed, “an unfortunate lover, who felt himself already condemned to death. From what I already hear, I am sure I have fully repaired the loss of Ebn Thaher. Whatever you undertake will, I know, be done well; and I give myself entirely up to your direction.”

After the prince had thanked the jeweller for the zeal he had shown in his service, the latter returned home; where the confidential slave of Schemselnihar came the next morning to seek him. He informed her, that he had given the prince of Persia some hopes of seeing Schemselnihar very soon. “I am come expressly,” she cried, “to concert some measures with you for that purpose. It appears to me,” she added, “that this very house is well adapted for their meeting.”—“I should not have the least objection to their coming here,” replied the jeweller, “but I think they will be much more at liberty in another house which I have, and which is inhabited by no one. I will immediately have it handsomely furnished to receive them.”—“This being the case,” rejoined the slave, “nothing more remains to be done, but to get the Favorite to agree to it. I will go and speak to her on the subject, and will return in a very short time, and give you her answer.”

It was not long before she came back; and she told the jeweller, that Schemselnihar would not fail to be at the appointed place towards the close of the day. She at the same time put a purse into his hands, and told him, it was to procure an excellent collation. The jeweller directly carried the slave to the house where the lovers were to meet, that she might know where it was, and be able to conduct her mistress thither: and, as soon as they parted, he went to borrow from his friends some gold and silver plate, some carpets, some very rich cushions, and other furniture, with which he ornamented the house in the most magnificent manner. When he had got every thing in readiness, he went to the prince of Persia.

Imagine to yourself the joy of the prince, when the jeweller informed him, that he was come for the purpose of conducting him to a house which was prepared on purpose for his and Schemselnihar’s reception. This intelligence made him forget all his vexations, all his disappointments, and all his sufferings. He put on a most magnificent dress, and went out, without even one attendant, with the jeweller, who led him through many unfrequented streets to his house, in order that no one might observe them, where he introduced him, and where they remained in conversation till the arrival of Schemselnihar.

They did not wait a great while for this too doting fair-one. She arrived directly after prayers at sun-set, accompanied by her confidential and two other slaves. It would be useless to attempt to express to you the excess of joy these two lovers evinced at the sight of each other; the delineation is almost impossible. They sat down upon a sofa, and at first looked at each other without being able to utter a single word, so much were their minds absorbed in mutual contemplation. But the use of their speech was no sooner returned, than they made ample amends for their former silence. They expressed themselves in so tender and affecting a manner, that even the jeweller, the confidant, and the two slaves, could not refrain from shedding tears. It was necessary, however, for the jeweller to dry his tears, and to think about the collation, which he set before them with his own hands. The lovers eat and drank but very slightly; after which they returned to the sofa, and Schemselnihar asked the jeweller, if he happened to have a lute, or any other instrument. The jeweller, who took care to provide every thing which he thought might afford them pleasure, immediately brought a lute. The Favorite spent a few moments in tuning it, and then began to sing.

While Schemselnihar was thus delighting the prince of Persia, by expressing her love for him in words which she composed at the moment, they suddenly heard a great noise; and a slave, whom the jeweller had brought with him, instantly rushed in, frightened to death, and said, that some people were forcing the door; that he had demanded of them who it was, when, instead of returning any answer, they redoubled their blows. The jeweller, greatly alarmed, left Schemselnihar and the prince of Persia to go and inform himself of the truth of this bad news. He went as far as the court, when, through the obscurity of the place, he observed a troop of men, armed with scimitars, who had already forced the door, and were coming directly towards him. The jeweller got up close to the wall, as quickly as possible, and, without being observed, he saw them pass by, to the number of ten.

As he thought he could be of no use in assisting the prince of Persia and Schemselnihar, he contented himself with lamenting their sad situation, and took flight as fast as possible. He ran out of his own house, and went for safety to that of a neighbour, who was not yet retired for the night; not doubting, that this unforeseen and violent attack was made by order of the caliph, who had by some means been informed of the place of appointment between the Favorite and the prince of Persia. The house, to which he fled for safety, was not so far distant, but that he heard the noise they made at his own; and this noise continued till midnight. Then, as every thing appeared to him to be silent, he requested his neighbour to lend him a sabre, and, armed in this manner, he sallied forth. He went to the door of his own house; and, entering the court, perceived, with great alarm, a man, who demanded who he was. He instantly recognised the voice of his slave. “How have you been able,” cried the jeweller, “to escape being taken by the guard?”—“Sir,” replied the slave, “I concealed myself in the corner of the court, and I came out as soon as the noise had ceased. But it was not the guard that broke in your house; they were robbers, who, for some days past, have infested this quarter of the city, and pillaged almost every one. They have, without doubt, remarked, that some rich furniture has been brought here; and this was certainly their object.”

The jeweller thought the conjecture of his slave too probable. He examined the house, and found, in fact, that the robbers had taken away the beautiful furniture of the apartment in which he had received Schemselnihar and her lover; and had carried off all the gold and silver plate, not leaving an individual thing behind them. At this sight he was quite in despair. “Oh, heavens!” he exclaimed, “I am undone, without the chance of redress or recovery. What will my friends say, and what excuse can I make them, when I shall inform them the thieves have broken open my house, and robbed me of every thing they had so generously lent me? How can I ever compensate them for the loss they have suffered through me? Besides, what can have become of Schemselnihar and the prince of Persia? This affair will make a great noise, and it infallibly must reach the ears of the caliph. He will be informed of this assignation, and I shall be the victim of his rage.” The slave, who was very much attached to his master, tried to console him. With regard to Schemselnihar,” he said, “there is no doubt but that the robbers would be contented with despoiling her of her valuables, and you may be assured she will return to her palace with her slaves: and the same will probably be the fate of the prince of Persia. You have every reason, therefore, to hope, that the caliph will remain in total ignorance of this adventure. As for the loss which your friends have suffered, it is a misfortune you cannot help, nor were able to avoid. They very well know, that the robbers are here in great numbers, and that they have had the boldness to pillage, not only the houses I have mentioned to you, but many others belonging to the principal noblemen of the court; and they are not ignorant, that in spite of the orders which have been issued, to seize them, not one of them has hitherto been taken, notwithstanding all the exertions and diligence that have been used. You will make them every recompense in returning to your friends the full value of the things you have been robbed of, and you will then still have, God be praised, a tolerable fortune remaining.”

While they were waiting till it was day-light, the jeweller made the slave mend the door of the house that had been forced, as well as he could. After this, he went back with his slave to that he commonly lived in; making the most melancholy reflections all the way he walked along. “Ebn Thaher,” said he to himself, “has been wiser than I have: he has foreseen this misfortune, into which I have blindly run headlong. I wish to God I had never taken any part in an intrigue which may perhaps cost me my life.”

It was hardly day when the report of this house having been broken open and pillaged spread itself through the city, and was the cause of a great number of the jeweller’s friends and neighbours assembling at his habitation; the most part of whom, under the pretext of expressing their sorrow for this accident, only came to hear the account more at large. He did not omit to thank them for the kindness of their inquiries: and he had, at least, the consolation of finding, that no one mentioned either the prince of Persia or Schemselnihar, which led him to hope, that they were returned home, or had retired to some place of safety.

When the jeweller was again alone, his people served up a repast; but he could not eat any thing. It was now about mid-day; when one of his slaves came and informed him, there was a man at the door, whom he did not know, who said, he wanted to speak with him. As the jeweller did not wish to admit an entire stranger into his house, he got up and went to speak to him at the door. “Although you do not know me,” said the man, “I am not unacquainted with you, and I am come to you upon a most important affair.” At these words the jeweller requested him to come into the house. “By no means,” replied the stranger, “you must, if you please, take the trouble to go with me to your other house.”—“How came you to know,” answered the jeweller, “that I have any other house besides this?”—“I am very well acquainted with that,” said the stranger; “and therefore you have only to follow me, and fear nothing; I have something to communicate to you that will give you pleasure.” The jeweller then went with him, but informed him, by the way, in what manner his house had been robbed, and that it was not in a state in which to receive any one.

When they had arrived opposite to the house, and the stranger saw that the door was half broken, he said to the jeweller, “I see, indeed, that you have spoken the truth; I will conduct you, then, to a place where we shall be better accommodated.” Having said this, they continued walking on, nor did they stop during the remainder of the day. Fatigued with the distance they had come, vexed at seeing night so near at hand, and wondering at the silence which the stranger kept respecting the place they were going to, the jeweller began to lose all his patience, when they arrived at an open place, which led down to the Tigris. As soon as they were on the banks of that river they embarked in a small boat, and passed over to the other side. The stranger then conducted the jeweller down a long street, where he had never before been; and, after passing through I know not how many unfrequented lanes, he stopped at a door, which he opened. He desired the jeweller to go in, shut the door after him, and fastened it with a large iron bar. He then conducted him into an apartment, where there were ten other men, who were not less strangers to the jeweller than the one who had brought him there.

These ten men received the jeweller without much ceremony. They desired him to sit down, which he did. He had, indeed, great occasion for a seat, for he was not only fatigued and out of breath from his long walk, but the alarm with which he was seized at finding himself with people apparently fully adequate to inspire it, was so great, that he was hardly able to stand. As they only waited for the chief, before they went to supper, it was served up, when he made his appearance. They first washed their hands, and compelled the jeweller to do the same, and also to sit down at table with them. After supper was over, they asked him, if he was aware with whom he was conversing. The jeweller answered he was not, and did not even know either the quarter of the city or the place he was in. “Relate to us, then,” they said, “your adventure of last night, and do not conceal any thing from us.” The jeweller was much astonished at this speech, and answered, “You are, probably, gentlemen, already acquainted with it.”—“True,” replied they, “the young man and young lady who were with you yesterday evening, have related it to us; but we wish, nevertheless, to know it from your own lips.”

Nothing more was wanting to make the jeweller understand, that he was now speaking to the very robbers who had broken open and pillaged his house. “Gentlemen,” said he, “I am in great distress about that young man and young lady, can you give me any information concerning them?”—“Be in no fear,” answered they, “on their account; they are in a place of safety, and are quite well.” Having said this, they pointed out two small apartments to him, in which they assured him they were kept separate. “They informed us,” added the strangers, “that you were the only person who were acquainted with their affairs and interested about them. As soon, therefore, as we knew that, we took all possible care of them on your account. So far from having made use of the least violence towards them, we have, on the contrary, done them every service in our power, and no one has ever wished to treat them ill: we assure you, also, of the same treatment, and you may place the fullest confidence in us.”

Encouraged by this speech, and delighted to find that Schemselnihar and the prince of Persia were in safety, at least with respect to their lives and persons, the jeweller endeavoured to engage the robbers still further in their service. He praised and flattered them, and returned them a thousand thanks. “I acknowledge, gentlemen,” said he to them, “that I have not the honor of knowing you; but it is a very great happiness to me, that you are not unacquainted with me, and I cannot sufficiently thank you for the gratification this acquaintance on your part has procured me. Not to mention a word of the great humanity and kindness of this action, I see very clearly, that it is only among men such as you, that a secret can be faithfully kept, where there is any danger of a discovery to be dreaded; and if there be any enterprise of a more difficult nature than common, you well know how to carry it through, by your alacrity, your courage, and your intrepidity. Relying upon these qualifications, to which you have so just a claim, I shall make no difficulty in relating my history to you, and also that of the two persons whom you found at my house, with all the distinctness and truth you can require.”

After the jeweller had taken all these precautions to interest the robbers about every thing he was going to reveal to them, that he thought might be of advantage, he gave them a complete detail, without omitting a single circumstance of the attachment and adventures of the prince of Persia and Schemselnihar, from the very beginning till the meeting he had procured them at his house.

The robbers were in the greatest astonishment at what they heard. “What,” they cried, when the jeweller had concluded his narration, “is it possible, that this young man is the illustrious Ali Ebn Becar, prince of Persia, and this lady the beautiful and celebrated Schemselnihar?” The jeweller swore that he had told them nothing but the strict and literal truth; and added, that they ought not to think it strange, that persons of their rank were very unwilling to make themselves known.

Upon this assurance, the robbers all went, one after the other, and threw themselves at the feet of Schemselnihar and the prince of Persia, entreating them to grant them a pardon; and protesting, that nothing which had happened should have taken place if they had known the rank of the guests before they had broken open the jeweller’s house. “And we will now endeavour,” they added, “to make some reparation for the fault we have committed.” They then returned to the jeweller, “We are very sorry,” said they to him, “that we are unable to restore every thing we have taken from you, as some part of it is no longer at our disposal; we beg of you, therefore, to be satisfied with the plate and silver articles, which we will immediately return to you.”

The jeweller thought himself very fortunate at the favor they, by these means, did him. When, therefore, the robbers had restored what they promised, they requested the prince of Persia and Schemselnihar to come, and informed them, as well as the jeweller, that they were ready to conduct them back to a certain place, from whence each might return to his own house; but before they did this, they wished to engage each of them, by an oath, not to discover them. The prince of Persia, Schemselnihar, and the jeweller, all said they were ready to pledge their words; but if the robbers particularly wished it, they would swear solemnly to preserve the whole transaction a most profound secret. The robbers, upon this, perfectly satisfied with their oath, went out with them.

As they were going along, the jeweller, feeling much disturbed at not seeing either the confidant or the other two slaves, went up to Schemselnihar, and requested her to inform him, if she knew what was become of them. “I know nothing about them,” she replied; “all I can tell you is, that they carried us with them from your house, that we were conducted across the river, and at last led to the house where you found us.”

This was all the conversation which the jeweller had with Schemselnihar; they then suffered themselves to be escorted by the robbers, together with the prince, and they soon came to the side of the river. The robbers immediately took a boat, embarked with them, and landed them on the opposite bank.

At the instant in which the prince of Persia, Schemselnihar, and the jeweller, were getting on shore, they heard a great noise, caused by the horse-patrole coming towards them, who arrived at the moment they were landed, and while the robbers were rowing back to the other side with all strength.

The officer of the guard demanded of the prince, Schemselnihar, and the jeweller, where they were coming from at that late hour, and who they were. As they were all in a state of considerable alarm, and therefore fearful of saying any thing that might lead them into difficulties, they remained silent. It was, however, absolutely necessary to make some answer; and this the jeweller took upon himself, as his mind was not quite so disturbed. “Sir,” he replied, “let me, in the first place, assure you, that we are people of character, who live in the city. The men, who are in the boat from whence we have just landed, are robbers, who last night broke open the house where we were. They despoiled it of every thing, and carried us with them. During the whole of this time, we made use of every means in our power, by persuasion and entreaties, and have at last succeeded in obtaining our liberty, and in consequence of this, they brought us to this spot. Nay, they even did more, and restored to us a part of the plunder they had taken, and which we now have with us.” He then showed to the officer the parcel of plate the robbers had returned to him.

The commander of the patrole was by no means satisfied with this answer of the jeweller. He went up both to him and the prince of Persia, “Tell me,” said he to them, looking in their faces, “the strict truth; who is this lady? How came you acquainted with her, and in what quarter of the city do you live?”

These questions very much embarrassed them, and they knew not what answer to make. Schemselnihar, however, got over the difficulty. She took the officer aside, and no sooner spoke to him, than he got off his horse, and showed her every mark of great respect and honor. He directly also ordered some of his attendants to bring two boats.

When these were come, the officer desired Schemselnihar to embark in one, and the prince and jeweller went into the other. Two of his attendants were also in each, with orders to conduct them wherever they wished to go. The two boats then began to steer a different course: and we will now only attend to that in which the prince of Persia and the jeweller were.

The prince, in order to save the persons whom the officer had ordered to conduct them home, some trouble, told them he would take the jeweller home with him, and informed them of the part of the city where he lived. Upon this information, the attendants rowed the boat towards the shore, close to the caliph’s palace. The prince of Persia and the jeweller, although they durst not discover it, were in the greatest possible alarm. Notwithstanding they had heard the order which the officer had given, they nevertheless were fully persuaded they were going to be conducted to the guard-house for the night, and that they should be brought before the caliph in the morning.

This was, however, by no means the intention of their conductors: for as soon as they had landed; as they were obliged to return to their party, they transferred them to an officer belonging to the caliph’s guard, who sent two soldiers with them to attend them by land to the prince of Persia’s house, which was at a considerable distance from the river. They at length arrived there, but so worn out with labor and fatigue they could scarcely move.

In addition to this excess of weariness, the prince of Persia felt so much afflicted at the unfortunate and unpleasant interruption he and Schemselnihar had experienced, and which seemed for ever to annihilate even the hope of another interview, that in sitting down on the sofa he absolutely fainted. While most of his people were employed in assisting to recover him, the rest surrounded the jeweller, and requested him to inform them what had happened to the prince, whose absence had occasioned them the greatest anxiety.

The jeweller, who took good care to discover nothing to them they ought not to know, told them, that the adventure was a very extraordinary one; but that he had not, at that time, sufficient leisure to give them the relation, and that they would be of greater use in assisting the prince. The latter fortunately returned at this moment to his senses, and those persons, therefore, who had so recently asked the questions, went to a distance, and showed the greatest respect; and, at the same time, evinced much joy that his fainting fit had lasted but a short time.

Although the prince of Persia had recovered his recollection, he remained in such a weak state, that he could not open his lips for the purpose of speaking. He answered only by signs, even to his relations, who spoke to him. He continued in the same situation on the next morning, when the jeweller took his leave of him. The prince answered him only by a motion of his eye; at the same moment he took him by the hand; and, as he observed, that he was incumbered with the bundle of plate which the robbers had returned to him, he made a sign to one of his attendants to take and carry it home for him.

His family had expected the return of the jeweller with the greatest impatience, during the whole of the day he had gone out with the man who had called to inquire for him, and of whom they were entirely ignorant; and, when the time in which he ought to have returned was elapsed, they were convinced some accident even worse than the robbery had happened to him. His wife, his children, and servants, were all in the greatest alarm, and were still in tears when he arrived. Their joy at seeing him was great for the moment, but it was soon accompanied with pain and regret at finding him so much altered in so short a time. The excessive fatigue of the preceding days and having passed the whole of the night without sleep, and in the midst of alarms, were the causes of this change, and many of his people, for the moment, hardly knew him again. As he felt himself very much weakened, he remained two whole days at home without once stirring out; during which time he saw only his most intimate friends, to whom he had ordered free admission.

On the third day, the jeweller, who felt his strength re-established, thought that a walk in the open air would assist his recovery. He went, therefore, to the shop of a rich merchant, with whom he had been upon a friendly footing for some length of time. As he got up to take his leave and go away, he perceived a female, who made him a sign, and he instantly recognised her as the confidential slave of Schemselnihar. This sight affected him with such a mixture of joy and alarm, that he went out of the shop without noticing her. She, however, followed him, as he was convinced she would, because the place they were then in was not proper for conversation. As he walked rather quickly, the confidant could not overtake him, and, therefore, from time to time called out to him to stop. He heard her perfectly well, but after what had happened to him, he did not choose to speak to her in public, through the dread of giving rise to any suspicion that he had any acquaintance with Schemselnihar. For it was very well known all over Bagdad, that this slave belonged to the Favorite, and that she employed her upon every occasion. He continued to walk at the same rate till he came to a mosque, which was but little frequented, and where he knew there would not be any one at this time. The slave followed him into the mosque, and they had there an opportunity of a long conversation without any interruption.

Both the jeweller and the confidant of Schemselnihar felt great pleasure in again seeing each other, after the singular adventure of the robbers; and the fear each was in for the other, not to mention the alarm they all were in on their own accounts. The jeweller wished the confidential slave to inform him, in the first instance, by what means she and the two slaves had been able to make their escape, and if she had gained any intelligence of Schemselnihar since he had seen her. The confidant herself, however, was so very eager to learn what had happened to him since their unexpected separation, that he was obliged to satisfy her. “This,” said he, when he finished his relation, “is all that you wished to know from me; now, therefore, I beg of you, inform me, in your turn, what I before desired you.”

“As soon as I saw the robbers make their appearance,” said the confidant, “I took them for some soldiers belonging to the caliph’s guard; imagining that the caliph had been informed of the excursions of Schemselnihar, and that he had sent them with orders to kill her, the prince of Persia, and all of us. I, therefore, instantly ran up to the terrace on the top of your house, while the robbers went into the apartment where the prince and Schemselnihar were; the other two slaves also made haste to follow my example. We continued going on from the terrace of one house to another, till we came to one belonging to some people of good character, who received us with great kindness, and with whom we passed the night.

“The next morning, after thanking the master of the house for the favor he had done us, we returned to Schemselnihar’s palace. When we arrived, we were in the greatest confusion; and felt the more distressed, as we were entirely ignorant of the destiny of these two unfortunate lovers. The other female attendants of Schemselnihar were much surprised at seeing us return without their mistress. We told them we had previously agreed among ourselves, that we had left her at the house of a lady, who was one of her friends; and that she would send for us again, to accompany her back, when she intended to return. With this excuse they were quite satisfied.

“In the mean time, I passed the day in the greatest uneasiness. When night came on, I opened the small private gate, and saw a boat upon the canal that branched off from the river, and terminated at the gate. I called out to the boatman, and begged him to row on each side of the river, and look if he could not see a lady; and, if he met with one, to bring her over.

“We waited (for the two slaves were with me, and as much distressed as myself,) in expectation of his return till midnight, when the same boat came back, with two other men in it and a woman, who was lying down in the stern. When the boat reached the shore, the two men assisted the lady in getting up and landing. I immediately discovered her to be Schemselnihar; and my joy at seeing and finding her again was greater than I can possibly express to you. I instantly gave her my hand, to assist her in getting out of the boat, and she had no little need of my assistance, for it was with difficulty that she supported herself; as soon as she was on shore, she whispered in my ear, and in a tone which evinced her sufferings, desired me to go and get a purse, containing a thousand pieces of gold, and give it to the two soldiers who accompanied her. I then gave her in charge to the two slaves to help her along, and after desiring the soldiers to wait a moment, I ran for the purse, and returned with it almost instantly. I gave it to them, paid the boatman, and then shut the gate.

“I soon overtook Schemselnihar, who had not yet reached her apartment. We lost no time in undressing and putting her to bed, where she continued all night in such a state, as if her soul was on the eve of quitting its habitation.

“The next day her other attendants expressed a great desire to see her; but I told them she had returned home very much fatigued, and had great want of repose to recruit her strength. In the mean time, the other two slaves and myself afforded her all the assistance and comfort we could devise, and which she could possibly expect from our zeal. At first she seemed determined not to eat any thing, and we should have despaired of her life, if we had perceived that the wine we from time to time gave her, did not very much support and strengthen her. At length, by means of our repeated entreaties, and even prayers, we got her to eat something.

“As soon as I saw that she was able to speak without injury to herself, for she had hitherto done nothing but shed tears, mixed with sighs and groans, I requested her to do me the favor of informing me by what fortunate accident she escaped from the power of the robbers. ‘Why do you ask me,’ she replied, with a profound sigh, ‘to bring to my recollection a subject that causes me so much affliction? I wish to God the robbers had taken my life, instead of preserving me. My evils would then have been at an end: but now my sufferings will, I know, long continue to torment me.’

“‘Madam,’ I answered, ‘I beg of you not to refuse me. You cannot be ignorant, that the unhappy sometimes derive a degree of consolation from a relation even of their most painful adventures. What I request, then, will be of service to you, if you will have the goodness to comply.’

“‘Listen then,’ she said, ‘to a narrative of circumstances the most distressing that can possibly happen to any one so much in love as I am, and who thought herself almost at the completion of her wishes. When I saw the robbers enter, with a sabre in one hand and a poniard in the other, I concluded the very last moment of my existence was at hand, and that the prince of Persia was in equal danger. I did not indeed lament my own death from the satisfaction I felt, that we should die together. Instead, however, of instantly falling upon us, and plunging their weapons into our hearts, as I fully expected, two of the robbers were ordered to guard us, while the others were engaged in packing up whatever they could find in the room where we were, and in the other apartments. When they had done this, and had taken all the plunder upon their shoulders, they went out, and made us go with them.

“‘While we were on the way, one of those, who accompanied us, demanded our names. I told him, that I was a dancer. He asked the same question of the prince, who said, that he was a citizen.

“‘When we had arrived at their dwelling, we experienced new alarms. They first collected round me, and after examining my dress, and the valuable jewels with which I was adorned, they seemed very much to doubt my rank. ‘A dancing girl,’ said they, ‘is not likely to be dressed like you. Tell us truly who you are.’

“‘As they found I was not inclined to give them any answer, they put the same question to the prince of Persia. ‘Inform us,’ they cried, ‘who you are. We see well enough, that you are not a common person, as you wish us to believe by your former answer.’ He, however, gave them no greater satisfaction than I had done. He only told them, that he had come on a visit to a certain jeweller, whose name he mentioned, in order to amuse himself, and that the house where they found us belonged to him.

“‘I know that jeweller,’ cried one of the robbers, who seemed to have some authority among them; ‘and I am under some obligations to him, although he is not perhaps aware of it: I know, also, that he has another house. To-morrow I will make it my business to bring him hither, and we will not release you till we know from him who you are. In the mean time, be assured that no harm shall be done to you.’

“‘The jeweller was brought here the next day, and as he thought to oblige us, and in fact he did so, he informed the robbers precisely who we were. They immediately came and begged my pardon, and I believe they did the same to the prince, who was in another apartment. They protested to me, at the same time, that if they had known that the house where they discovered us belonged to the jeweller, they would not have broken it open. They then took us all three, and conducted us to the banks of the Tigris; they made us go on board a boat, by which we crossed the water; but, at the very instant of landing, a party of the guard came up to us on horseback.

“‘I took the commander aside, told him my name, and also that on the evening before, as I was visiting one of my friends, the robbers met and stopped me, and then carried me with them; and that it was not till I had informed them who I was, that they would release me. That on my account, also, they set at liberty the two persons he then saw with me, because I assured them I knew who they were. The officer of the guard immediately alighted, as a mark of his respect, and after expressing his joy at being able to oblige me in any thing, he ordered two boats to come to the shore, into one of which he put me and two of his people, whom you saw, and who escorted me hither. The prince of Persia and the jeweller embarked in the other with two more of his soldiers, who went with and conducted them safely home.

“‘I hope,’ added Schemselnihar, with her eyes swimming in tears, as she finished this account, ‘that no fresh misfortune has happened to them since our separation, and I firmly believe, that the grief and distress of the prince is equal to mine. The jeweller, who has served us with so much zeal and affection, deserves, at least, to be recompensed for the loss he has sustained through his friendship for us; do not, therefore, fail to take him to-morrow morning, as from me, two purses with a thousand pieces of gold in each; and gain, at the same time, some intelligence from him concerning the prince of Persia.’

“When my good mistress had concluded her story, I endeavoured, on her giving me this last order, to obtain some information of the prince of Persia, to persuade her to make use of every method to conquer her feelings after the danger she had just encountered, and from which she had escaped only, as it were, by a miracle. ‘Make no reply,’ she called out, ‘but do as I command you.’

“I was, therefore, obliged to hold my tongue, and immediately set out to obey her orders. I first proceeded to your house, where I did not find you; and, from the uncertainty whether I should meet with you at the place where they told me you were gone, I was on the point of going to the prince of Persia’s, but was afraid to make the attempt. I left the two purses, as I went past, with a person of my acquaintance. If you will wait here a little while for me, I will go and fetch them.”

The confidential slave then departed, but returned to the mosque, where she had left the jeweller, almost directly. “Here,” said she, giving him the two purses, “take these, and make a compensation to your friends for their losses.”—“There is much more,” replied the jeweller, “than is necessary for that purpose: but I dare not refuse the present, which so kind and generous a lady wishes to make to the humblest of her slaves. I beg you to assure her, that I shall for ever preserve the recollection of her kindness.” He then made an agreement with the confidant, that she should come and inquire for him at the house where she had first met him, whenever she had any thing to communicate from Schemselnihar, or wished to gain any intelligence of the prince of Persia. After this they separated.

The jeweller returned home very well satisfied, not only with the ample sum of money he had received for the purpose of making up the loss his friends had suffered, but also from the idea, that he was sure no person in Bagdad knew that the prince of Persia and Schemselnihar had been discovered in his other house, which had been robbed. It is true, he had acquainted the robbers themselves with it, but he was tolerably secure of their secrecy, from its being mutual. Besides, they, he thought, did not mix sufficiently with the world to fear any danger from them, even if they did divulge it. The next morning he saw those friends, to whom he was under such obligations, and he had no difficulty in giving them perfect satisfaction. And, after all, he had enough money remaining to furnish his other house again very properly. He did this, and sent some of his domestics to inhabit it. While thus employed, he quite forgot the danger which he had so lately escaped from; and in the evening he went to visit the prince of Persia.

The officers and attendants of the prince, who received him, told him he arrived very opportunely, for that the prince, since he left him, was in such a state as to alarm them for his life; and that they had not been able to get him to speak a single word. They introduced him into his chamber without making the least noise; and, he found the prince lying in his bed, with his eyes shut, and in a state which very much excited his compassion. He saluted him, took him by the hand, and exhorted him to keep up his spirits.

The prince of Persia perceived that it was the jeweller who spoke to him; he opened his eyes, and gave him such a look as plainly evinced how much he was afflicted, and how much more he now suffered than when he first saw Schemselnihar. He took hold of him, and pressed his hand as a mark of his friendship; and, at the same time said, though in the most feeble tone of voice, how much he felt himself obliged to him for the trouble he took in coming to see so unfortunate and wretched a being as he was.

“Talk not, I beseech you, prince,” said the jeweller, “of the obligations you are under to me. I wish, most earnestly, that the good offices which I endeavor to do you were attended with more success. Let us only think of your health. From the state you are now in, I fear you suffer yourself to be too much depressed, and that you do not take so much nourishment as is absolutely necessary.”

The attendants who were in waiting, seized this opportunity to inform the jeweller, that they had tried every method in their power to induce him to eat something, but all their efforts were ineffectual, and that the prince had taken nothing for a great length of time. This compelled the jeweller to request the prince of Persia to suffer his servants to bring some nourishment for him to take, and after much entreaty he at length obtained his consent.

When the prince of Persia had eaten, through the persuasions of the jeweller, much more than he had hitherto done, he ordered his people to retire, that he might be alone with him. And after they were gone out, he addressed these words to him: “Added to the misfortune which overwhelms me, I feel very great pain for the loss that you have suffered from your regard to me; and, it is but just, that I should think of some means to recompense you: but in the first place, after requesting you most earnestly to pardon me, I entreat you to inform me, if you have heard any thing of Schemselnihar, after I was compelled to separate myself from her.”

As the jeweller had before received the whole account from Schemselnihar’s confidential slave, he now related what he knew of her arrival at her own palace, and of the state she had been in from that moment, till she felt herself so much better as to be able to send her confidant to get some intelligence of him.

To this speech of the jeweller the prince answered only by his sighs and tears. He then made an effort to get up; he called his people, and went himself to the room where he kept his valuables, and ordered it to be opened; he then made them take out many pieces of rich furniture and plate, and ordered them to be carried to the jeweller’s.

The jeweller wished to decline accepting the present of the prince of Persia; but although he represented to him, that Schemselnihar had already sent him much more than sufficient to replace every thing that his friends had lost, the prince nevertheless would be obeyed. The only thing, therefore, the jeweller could do, was to acknowledge how much he felt confused at his great liberality, and to assure him, he could not be sufficiently thankful for his kindness. He then wished to take his leave; but the prince desired him to remain, and they passed the greatest part of the night in conversation.

The jeweller saw the prince again the next morning before he went away, when the latter made him sit down near him. “You know very well,” said he, “that there must be an end to every thing. The sole object and end of a lover is to obtain possession of her he loves, without restraint: if he once loses sight of this hope, it is certain, that he can no longer wish to live. This, you must be well convinced, is the miserable situation in which I am. Twice, when I have fancied myself at the very consummation of my wishes, at that very instant have I been torn from the object of my affections in the most cruel manner. I have now, therefore, only to think of death. I would myself be the cause of its immediate presence, but that my religion prevents my becoming a self-murderer. I feel, however, that I have no occasion to hasten its approach; because I am well convinced I shall not have long to expect it.” With these words he concluded his speech, and then gave full scope to his tears, nor did he endeavour to suppress his sighs and his lamentations.

The jeweller, who knew not what better method to pursue, to lead his attention from this hopeless and despairing train of thinking, than by recalling Schemselnihar to his recollection, and holding out some slight ray of hope, told him, that he was afraid the confidant was already come; and it would not, therefore, be right that he should lose any time in going home. “I permit you to go,” said the prince, “but if you see her, I entreat you to urge her to assure Schemselnihar, that if I die, as I expect will very soon be the case, I shall adore her with my last breath, nor will my affection cease even in the tomb.”

The jeweller then returned home, and remained there, in hopes that the slave would soon make her appearance. She, in fact, arrived a few hours after; but bathed in tears, and in the greatest disorder. Greatly alarmed at seeing her in this condition, the jeweller eagerly inquired what was the matter.

“We are all undone,” cried she; “Schemselnihar, the prince of Persia, you, myself, every one of us are lost. Listen to the terrible news I learnt yesterday, when I left you and returned to the palace.

“Schemselnihar had ordered one of the two slaves, who were with us at your house, to be punished for some fault or other. Enraged at this ill-treatment, this slave, finding a door of the palace open, ran out, and we have no doubt but that she went and told every thing to one of the eunuchs of our guard, who has afforded her a retreat.

“Nor is this all: the other slave, her companion, is also fled, and has taken refuge in the palace of the caliph, to whom, we have every reason to believe, she has revealed all she knew; and what confirms this opinion is, that the caliph sent this morning twenty eunuchs to bring Schemselnihar to his palace. I found the means to steal away, and to come and give you information of all this. I know not what has passed, but I conjecture nothing good. Whatever it may be, I entreat you to be quite secret.

The confidant then added, that she thought it would be proper to go, without losing a moment, and find the prince of Persia, and to inform him of the whole affair, that he might hold himself in readiness for any turn the event might take; and also that he might be true and faithful to the common cause. She said not another word, but suddenly went away, without even waiting for an answer.

And what indeed could the jeweller have answered in the state this speech put him in! He remained motionless, like a person stunned by a blow. He was nevertheless aware, that the business required decisive and prompt measures. He, therefore, made all the haste he could to the prince of Persia’s, and as soon as he saw him, he accosted him in a way that instantly showed he was the messenger of bad news. “Prince,” he cried, “arm yourself with patience, constancy, and courage; prepare for an attack, the most dreadful you have ever encountered.”

“Tell me,” exclaimed the prince, “in two words, what has happened, and do not thus keep me in suspense. I am ready to die, if it be necessary.”

The jeweller then related to him every thing he had heard from the confidential slave. “You see,” added he, “that your destruction is inevitable. Get up then, and endeavour instantly to save yourself. The time is precious. You ought not to expose yourself to the rage of the caliph, still less to confess any thing, although you should be in the midst of torments.”

Very little more would at this moment have actually destroyed the prince, so much was he already broken down by affliction, sorrow, and terror. He at length recollected himself, and inquired of the jeweller what plan he advised him to pursue in so critical a conjuncture, and when he had only an instant to take advantage of it. “There is nothing to be done,” replied the jeweller, “but to get on horse-back as soon as possible, take the road to Anbar, and endeavour to arrive there before daylight to-morrow. Let as many of your people accompany you as you think necessary, and some good horses, and suffer me to save myself with you.”

The prince of Persia, who knew of no better method to pursue, gave orders to have prepared barely as much as was necessary for the journey; carried some money and jewels with him, and after taking leave of his mother, set out, and hastened as much as possible to get at a distance from Bagdad, in company with the jeweller, and the attendants he had chosen.

They travelled the rest of the day, and most of the following night, without making any stop on the road, till about two or three hours before day, when the fatigue of so long a journey, and the absolute inability of their horses to proceed, compelled them to alight, and take some little repose.

They had hardly had time to breathe, before they were attacked by a considerable troop of robbers. They defended themselves for some time with the greatest courage, till all the attendants of the prince were killed: the prince and the jeweller then laid down their arms, and yielded at discretion. The robbers gave them their lives; and after taking their horses and baggage, they rifled and even stripped their persons, and then retiring with their plunder, left them in the same place.

The robbers were no sooner at some distance, than the prince said to the jeweller, who was in the utmost distress, “Well, what think you of our late adventure, and the state we are now left in? Do you not rather wish that I had remained at Bagdad waiting there for my death, in what manner soever it might have been inflicted!”—“Prince,” replied the jeweller, “we must submit to the decrees of the Almighty. It is his will that we should suffer affliction upon affliction. Our business is not to murmur, but to receive every thing, whether good or evil, from his hands with absolute submission. Let us not, however, stop here; but proceed, and endeavour to find out some place, where we shall be able to obtain relief under our misfortune.”

“Let me alone,” cried the prince of Persia, “and suffer me to end my days in this place; for of what consequence is it where I breathe my last. Perhaps, at the very instant we are now speaking, Schemselnihar is herself no more; and it is neither my wish nor even in my power, to live a moment after her.” The jeweller at length, with much intreaty, persuaded him to move. They walked on for a long time, and at last came to a mosque, which they found open. They went in, and passed the rest of the night there.

At day-break, there was only one person came into the mosque. He said his prayers, and when he had finished them, as he was going out he perceived the prince of Persia and the jeweller, who were seated in one corner. He went up to them, and saluted them with great civility. “You seem to me,” he said to them, “if I may judge from your appearance, to be strangers.” The jeweller, who took upon himself to speak, answered, “You are not wrong in your supposition. Last night, in coming along the road from Bagdad, we were robbed, as you may conjecture from the state we are in; and we have great need of assistance, but know not to whom to apply.”—“If you will take the trouble,” replied the stranger, “to come to my house, I will very readily give you all the help and assistance in my power.”

On hearing this obliging offer, the jeweller turned towards the prince of Persia, and whispered in his ear, that he thought this man did not know either of them, and that they had some reason to think it possible another might come, who would recognise them. “We ought not, therefore,” said he, “to refuse the favor which this good man does us.”—“You are master,” replied the prince, “I agree to every thing you wish.”

As the stranger saw the prince and the jeweller consulting together, he thought that they made some difficulty in accepting the proposal he had made them. He asked, therefore, on what they had determined, “We are ready to follow you,” replied the jeweller, “but what affords us the greatest distress is, that we are almost naked, and are therefore ashamed to appear in this condition.” Fortunately, however, the man had sufficient clothes about him, to be able to bestow enough on them to cover them in their way to his house. And they were no sooner arrived, than their host ordered some clothes to be brought for each of them; and, as he naturally imagined that they were greatly in want of food, and would also be much more at ease by themselves, he sent a female slave with a variety of dishes. They scarcely, however, touched any thing, particularly the prince, who was reduced to such a languid state, and was so worn out, that the jeweller felt considerable alarms for his life.

Their host visited them several times during the day; but he left them early in the evening, as he knew they stood in great need of repose. The jeweller, however, was obliged, almost immediately, to call him again, to help him in attending on the prince of Persia, who, he thought, was very near dying. He perceived that his respiration was difficult and rapid, and from this he judged he had only a few moments to live. He went up to him, when the prince said, “It is, as you must perceive, all over with me; and I am well satisfied, that you should be a witness to the last sigh I shall ever breathe; I resign my life with much satisfaction, nor need I inform you why I do so. You know it. All the regret I feel is, that I do not breathe my last in the arms of my dearest mother, who has always shown the tenderest affection for me; and for whom, I trust, my respect has ever been such as was proper. She will suffer much, from not having the melancholy consolation of closing my eyes, and even of burying me with her own hands. Tell her, I beg of you, the pain I suffer; and request her, as from me, to have my body conveyed to Bagdad, chat she may water my grave with her tears, and may afford me the benefit of her prayers.” He did not forget the master of the house where he was; and thanked him for the generous reception he had given him, and after requesting that his body might be preserved in his house, till they came to bury it, he expired.

The day after the death of the prince of Persia, the jeweller took advantage of a large caravan, which happened at that time to be going to Bagdad; where he arrived in safety. He immediately went to his own house, and having changed his dress, he proceeded to that of the deceased prince of Persia, where they were all much alarmed at not seeing the prince himself come back with him. He desired the attendants to inform the prince’s mother, that he wished to speak to her; and it was not long before they introduced him into a hall, where she was surrounded by many of her females. “Madam,” said the jeweller on entering, but in a tone and manner that evidently proved he was the messenger of ill news, “may God preserve you, and heap abundance of his favors upon you. You are not ignorant, that the Almighty disposes of us as he pleases.”

The lady gave the jeweller no time to say more, “Ah,” she exclaimed, “you come to announce the death of my son!” She instantly uttered the most melancholy cries, which, together with those made by her women, renewed the grief, and made the tears of the jeweller flow afresh. She continued to suffer these torments, and remained a long time overcome by affliction, before she would permit the jeweller to go on with what he had to say. She at length suppressed for a time her lamentations and tears, and begged him to continue his account, and not to conceal any circumstance of this melancholy separation. He satisfied her; and when he had concluded, she asked him if the prince her son had not charged him with any thing in particular to say to her, when he was at the extremity of his life. He assured her, that he only expressed the greatest regret at breathing his last at a distance from her, and that the only thing he wished was, that she would take care and have his body brought to Bagdad. Early, therefore, the next morning, she set out, accompanied by all her women, and a considerable part of her slaves.

When the jeweller, who had been detained by the mother of the prince of Persia, had seen her take her departure, he returned home in the most melancholy state of mind: his eyes cast down, and himself deeply regretting the death of so accomplished and amiable a prince, in the very flower of his age.

As he was walking along, meditating thus within himself, a woman came up and stopped directly before him. He lifted his eyes, and perceived the confidential slave of Schemselnihar, dressed in mourning, and her eyes bathed in tears. The sight renewed his affliction to a great degree, and without even opening his lips to speak to her, he continued walking on, till he came to his own house, to which the confidant followed him, and entered at the same time.

They both sat down, and the jeweller began the conversation, by asking her, sighing deeply at the same time, if she had already been informed of the death of the prince of Persia, and if it was for him that she wept. “Alas, no,” she answered: “is then this charming prince dead? He has not indeed long survived his adorable Schemselnihar. Lovely spirits,” added she, addressing the departed lovers, “in whatever place you may be, you are now sufficiently satisfied in being able, for the future, to love each other without any obstacle. Your bodies were an invincible hindrance to your wishes, and Heaven has only freed you from them to enable you to be united in soul.”

The jeweller, who was hitherto ignorant of the death of Schemselnihar, and who had not as yet attended to the circumstance of the confidant’s being in mourning, felt an additional pang when he learnt this intelligence. “Schemselnihar dead too!” he exclaimed. “Is she no more?”—“Such indeed is her fate,” replied her slave, renewing her tears. “It is for her that I am in mourning. The circumstances attending her death are singular, and it is proper that you should be made acquainted with them. But previous to my giving you a narrative of this, I beg of you to inform me of every thing relative to the death of the prince of Persia, whose loss I shall continue all my life to lament, as well as that of my dear and amiable mistress of Schemselnihar.

The jeweller satisfied the confidant in every particular she wished to know, and as soon as he had finished his account, beginning from the time she left him to the moment in which the prince’s mother began her journey for the purpose of bringing her son’s body to Bagdad, she went on as follows: “I have already told you how the caliph sent for Schemselnihar to his own palace. It was true, as we had reason to believe, that the caliph had been informed of the attachment and meeting between Schemselnihar and the prince of Persia by the two slaves, whom he had separately questioned. You may already perhaps imagine, that he was in the greatest rage with the Favorite; and that he showed strong marks of jealousy and revenge against the prince of Persia. By no means. He thought not for an instant about him. He only pitied Schemselnihar. Nay, he attributed, as it is thought, what had happened only to himself, and to the permission which he had given her to go freely about the city, unaccompanied by any eunuchs. At least we cannot form any other conjecture, from the extraordinary manner in which he conducted himself towards her from first to last; as you shall hear.

“The caliph received her with an open countenance, and when he perceived the traces of that grief with which she was overwhelmed, but which nevertheless did not in the least diminish her beauty, for she appeared before him without any symptoms either of surprise or fear. ‘Schemselnihar,’ said he to her, with his usual accustomed goodness, ‘I cannot bear that you should appear before me with a countenance so strongly impressed by sorrow. You know with what ardour I have always loved you: You must be convinced of its sincerity by all the proofs I have given you of it. I am not changed; for I still love you more than ever. You have some enemies, and these enemies have made some ill reports of the manner in which you conduct yourself; every thing, however, that they can say of you, has not made the least impression upon my mind. Drive away then this melancholy, and dispose yourself to entertain me this evening with something as amusing and diverting as you used to do.’ He continued to say many other obliging things to her, and then conducted her into a magnificent apartment near his own; where he requested her to wait for him.

“The wretched Schemselnihar was sensibly affected at so many proofs of the caliph’s concern for her person: but the more she felt herself under obligations to him, the more was her bosom penetrated with grief at being separated, perhaps for ever, from the prince of Persia, without whom she was convinced she could not exist.

“This interview between the caliph and Schemselnihar,” continued the confidant, “took place while I was coming to speak to you; and I learnt the particulars of it from my companions, who were present. As soon, however, as I left you, I hastened back to Schemselnihar, and was witness to what passed in the evening. I found my mistress in the apartment I have mentioned; and as she was very sure I was come from your house, she desired me to approach her; and, without being overheard by any one, she said to me, ‘I am much obliged to you for the service you have just now rendered me: I feel that it will be the last.’ This was all she uttered, and I was not in a place where I could say any thing by way of endeavouring to afford her consolation.

The caliph in the evening entered Schemselnihar’s palace to the sound of instruments, which were touched by the females belonging to the Favorite, when a collation was instantly served up. The caliph took Schemselnihar by the hand, and made her sit near him upon a sofa. To comply with this action had such a violent effect upon her feelings, that in a few moments after we saw her expire. She was in fact hardly seated, before she fell backwards. The caliph thought that she had only fainted, nor had we at first any other idea. We gave her every assistance in our power; but she never breathed again. This then was the manner in which we suffered our great loss.

“The caliph honored her with his tears, which he was unable to restrain; and before he retired to his apartment he gave orders that all the musical instruments should be absolutely destroyed, which was accordingly done. I remained near the body the whole night, and both washed and prepared it for burial with my own hands, almost bathing it with my tears. It was the next day interred, by the command of the caliph, in a magnificent tomb, which he had before ordered to be built in a spot that Schemselnihar had herself chosen. And since,” added the slave, “you have told me the body of the prince of Persia is to be brought to Bagdad, I am determined that it shall be placed in the same tomb with that of the Favorite.”

The jeweller was very much astonished at this resolution of the confidant. “You do not surely recollect,” said he, “that the caliph will never suffer it.”—“You may believe the thing impossible,” replied she, “but I assure you, it is not. And you will agree with me, when I have informed you that the caliph has given their freedom to all the slaves that belonged to Schemselnihar, with a pension to each of them sufficient to support themselves; and that he has moreover appointed me to take care of, and watch her tomb, with a considerable salary both for its repair and my subsistence. Besides, the caliph, who is not ignorant of the mutual attachment of Schemselnihar and the prince of Persia, as I have already told you, and who is not now offended or hurt at it, will never have any objection to it.” In answer to this, the jeweller had nothing to say; he only requested the confidant to conduct him to the tomb, that he might offer up his prayers there. When he arrived, he was greatly surprised at seeing a crowd of people of both sexes, who had collected there from all parts of Bagdad. He could not even get near it; and could only pray at some distance. When he had finished his prayers, he said to the confidant in a satisfactory tone of voice, “I do not now think it impossible to accomplish what you so properly planned. We have only to make known the various facts we are acquainted with, concerning the Favorite and the prince of Persia, and particularly the death of the latter, which took place almost at the same instant with that of Schemselnihar.” Before his body arrived, all Bagdad agreed in demanding, that they should not be separated in the grave. The scheme succeeded, and on the day in which it was known the body would arrive, a multitude of people went out even twenty miles to meet it.”

The confidant waited at the gate of the city, where she presented herself before the mother of the prince of Persia, and requested her in the name of all the inhabitants, who so ardently desired it, to allow the bodies of the two lovers, whose hearts formed but one, from the commencement of their attachment to the last moment of their lives, to be united in one tomb. The lady agreed to it; and the body was carried to the tomb of Schemselnihar, an immense number of people of all ranks following it; and then placed by her side. From that time all the inhabitants of Bagdad, and even strangers from all parts of the world, where mussulmen are known, have never ceased from feeling a great veneration for that tomb, and going to offer up their prayers at its foot.

“This, sire,” said Scheherazadè in this place, “is what I had to relate to your majesty concerning the amours of the beautiful Schemselnihar, the Favorite of the caliph Haroun Alraschid, and the amiable Ali Ebn Becar, prince of Persia.”

When Dinarzadè perceived the sultana, her sister, had concluded her speech, she thanked her most kindly for the pleasure she had afforded her by the recital of so interesting a history: “If the sultan,” replied Scheherazadè, “would suffer me to live till to-morrow, I would relate to him the history of prince Camaralzaman, [14] which he would find still more agreeable.” She was then silent; and Schahriar, who could not yet determine to give orders for her death, deferred it, in order to listen to the new story, which the sultana began to relate, on the following night.