For fifteen days Balthasar lay in the agonies of delirium. He raved without ceasing of the steaming cauldron and the moss in the ravine, and he incessantly cried aloud for Balkis. At last, on the sixteenth day, he opened his eyes and saw at his bedside Sembobitis and Menkera, but he did not see the queen.
“Where is she? What is she doing?”
“My lord,” replied Menkera, “she is closeted with the King of Comagena.”
“They are doubtless agreeing to an exchange of merchandise,” added the sage Sembobitis.
“But be not so disturbed, my lord, or you will redouble your fever.”
“I must see her,” cried Balthasar. And he flew towards the apartments of the queen, and neither the sage nor the eunuch could restrain him. On nearing the bedchamber he beheld the King of Comagena come forth covered with gold and glittering like the sun. Balkis, smiling and with eyes closed, lay on a purple couch. “My Balkis, my Balkis!” cried Balthasar. She did not even turn her head but seemed to prolong a dream.
Balthasar approached and took her hand which she rudely snatched away.
“What do you want?” she said.
“Do you ask?” the black king answered, and burst into tears.
She turned on him her hard, calm eyes.