They both sat down at table, and at first complimented each other, presenting the fruit reciprocally. The excellency of the wine insensibly drew them both on to drink; and having drunk two or three glasses, they agreed that neither should take another glass without singing some air first. Ganem sang verses he composed extempore, and which expressed the vehemency of his passion; and Fetnah, encouraged by his example, composed and sang verses relating to her adventure, and always containing something which Ganem might take in a sense that was favourable to him; bating, that she nicely observed the fidelity due to the caliph. The collation held till very late, and the night was far advanced, before they thought of parting. Ganem then withdrew to another apartment, leaving Fetnah where she was, and the women-slaves he had bought coming in to wait upon her.

They lived together after this manner for several days. The young merchant went not abroad, unless upon business of the utmost consequence; and, even for that, took the time when his lady was at her rest; for he could not prevail upon himself to let slip a moment that might be spent in her company. All his thoughts were taken up with his dear Fetnah, who, on her side, giving way to her inclination, confessed she had no less affection for him than he had for her. However, as fond as they were of each other, their respect for the caliph kept them within those bounds that were due to him, which still heightened their passion.

While Fetnah, thus snatched from the jaws of death, passed her time so agreeably with Ganem, Zobeide was not without some apprehensions in Haroun Alraschid’s palace.

As soon as the three slaves intrusted with the execution of her revenge, had carried away the chest, without knowing what was in it, or so much as the least curiosity to inquire into it, as being used to pay a blind obedience to her commands, she was seized with a tormenting uneasiness: a thousand perplexing thoughts disturbed her rest; sleep fled from her eyes, and she spent the night in contriving how to conceal her crime. My consort, said she, loves Fetnah more than ever he did any of his favourites. What shall I say to him at his return, when he inquires of me after her? Many contrivances occurred to her, but none were satisfactory: she still met with difficulties, and knew not where to fix. There lived with her an ancient lady, who had bred her up from her infancy: as soon as it was day, she sent for her, and having intrusted her with the secret, said, Dear mother, you have always been assisting to me with your advice; if ever I stood in need of it, it is now; when the business before you is to still my thoughts, distracted by a mortal concern, and to show me some way to satisfy the caliph.

Dear madam, replied the old lady, it had been much better not to have run yourself into the difficulties you labour under; but since the thing is done, the best way is to say no more of it: all that must now be thought of, is how to deceive the chief of believers; and I am of opinion that you must immediately cause a wooden image to be carved resembling a dead body; we will shroud it up in old linen; and, when shut up in a coffin, it shall be buried in some part of the palace; then shall you immediately cause a marble monument to be built, after the manner of a dome, over the burial-place; and erect a figure which shall be covered with black cloth, and set about with great candlesticks and large wax tapers. There is another thing, added the old lady, which ought not to be forgot: you must put on mourning, and cause the same to be done by all your own and Fetnah’s women, your eunuchs, and all that belong to the palace. When the caliph returns, and sees you and all the palace in mourning, he will be sure to ask the occasion of it; then will you have an opportunity of insinuating yourself into his favour, saying, it was in respect to him, that you paid the last honours to Fetnah, snatched away by sudden death. You may also tell him you have caused a mausoleum to be built; and, in short, that you have paid all the dues to his favourite which he would have done himself had he been present. His passion for her being extraordinary, he will certainly go and shed some tears upon her grave; and, perhaps, added the old woman, he will not believe she is really dead; and suspect you have turned her out of the palace through jealousy, and look upon all the mourning as an artifice to deceive him, and prevent his making search after her. It is likely he will cause the coffin to be taken up and opened, and it is certain he will be convinced of her death as soon as he shall see the figure of a dead body buried. He will be pleased with all you shall have done, and express his gratitude. As for the wooden image, I will undertake to have it cut myself by a carver in the city, who shall not know what use it is to be put to. As for your part, madam, order Fetnah’s woman, who yesterday gave her the lemonade, to give out that she had just found her mistress dead in her bed; and, that they may only think of lamenting, without offering to go into her chamber, let her add, she has already acquainted you with it, and that you have ordered Mesrour to cause her to be laid out and buried.

As soon as the old lady had spoken these words, Zobeide took a rich diamond ring out of her casket, and putting it on her finger, and embracing her in a perfect transport of joy, said, How infinitely am I beholden to you, my dear mother! I should never have thought of so ingenious a contrivance. It cannot fail of success, and I perceive my peace of mind begins to be restored to me. I leave the care of the wooden figure to you, and I will go myself to order the rest.

The wooden image was got ready with as much expedition as Zobeide could have wished, and then conveyed by the lady herself into Fetnah’s bed-chamber, where she dressed it like a dead body, and put it into a coffin. Then Mesrour, who was much deceived by it, caused the coffin, and the representation of Fetnah, to be carried away; and buried it with the usual ceremonies, in the place appointed by Zobeide, the favourite’s women weeping and lamenting, and she who had given her the lemonade setting them an example by her cries and howlings.

That very day, Zobeide sent for the architect of the palace, and of the caliph’s other houses; and, according to the orders he received from her, the mausoleum was finished in a very short time. Such potent princesses, as was this consort of a monarch, whose power extended from east to west, are always punctually obeyed in whatsoever they command, by all the court; so that the news of Fetnah’s death was soon spread all over the town.

Ganem was one of the last who had heard of it; for, as I have before observed, he scarce went abroad. Being at length informed of it, Madam, said he to the caliph’s fair favourite, you are thought to be dead in Bagdad, and I do not question but that Zobeide herself believes it; I bless Heaven that I am the cause, and the happy witness of your being alive; and would to God, that, taking the advantage of this false report, you would share my fortune, and go far from hence to reign in my heart! But whither does this pleasing notion carry me? I do not consider that you are born to make the greatest prince in the world happy, and that only Haroun Alraschid is worthy of you. Supposing you could resolve to give him up for me, and that you would follow me, ought I to consent to it? No, it is my part always to remember, that what belongs to the master is forbidden to the slave.

The lovely Fetnah, though moved by the tenderness of the passion he expressed, yet prevailed with herself not to comply with it. My lord, said she to him, we cannot obstruct Zobeide’s triumphing. I am not at all surprised at the artifice she makes use of to conceal her guilt: but let her proceed; I flatter myself that sorrow will soon follow her triumph: the caliph will return, and we shall find means privately to inform him of all that has happened. In the mean time, let us be more cautious than ever, that she may not know I am alive. I have already told you the consequences.