"But, madam," replies Mangogul, "it is not her husband that she loves"——"Who then?" says Mirzoza.——"'Tis Zuleiman," replies Mangogul——"Adieu then to the Porcelains and the little Sapajou," added the Sultana——"Ah!" says Mangogul whispering to himself, "this Zaide has struck me: she pursues me, she occupies my thoughts; I must absolutely see her again." Mirzoza interrupted him by some questions, which he answered in monosyllables. He refused a game of piquet which she proposed, complain'd of a head-ach which he counterfeited, retired to his appartment, went to bed without supping, which he had never done before, and had no sleep. The charms and tenderness of Zaide, the qualities and happiness of Zuleiman tormented him the whole night.
One may easily imagine, that he had no business so much in his head this day, as to return to Zaide. He walk'd out of his palace, even without enquiring after Mirzoza, the first time that ever he fail'd in this point. He found Zaide in the same closet as the preceding day, and Zuleiman with her; who held his mistresses hands between his own, and had his eyes fixed on her. Zaide on her knees, and inclining forward, darted glances animated with the most ardent passion on Zuleiman. They continued some time in this attitude: but both in the same instant yielding to the violence of their desires, they rush'd into each others arms, and embraced with eagerness. The profound silence, which had hitherto reigned about them, was disturbed by their sighs, the sound of their mutual kisses, and some inarticulated words, which slip'd from them——"You love me!"——"I adore you"——"Will you love me constantly?"——"Alas! the last sigh of my life shall be for Zaide!——"
Mangogul overwhelm'd with sorrow, threw himself into an easy chair, and covered his eyes with his hand. He dreaded seeing things, which are easily imagined, and yet did not happen. After a silence of some moments, "Ah! dear and tender lover," says Zaide, "why have I not always found you such as you are at present? I should not love you the less, nor should I have any reproach to throw on myself.——But you weep, dear Zuleiman. Come, dear and tender lover, come, and let me wipe off your tears. Zuleiman, you cast down your eyes, what ails you? Pray look on me.——Come, dear friend, come, that I may comfort thee: cling thy lips on my mouth, breathe thy soul into me, receive mine; suspend——Ah! no——no"——Zaide finished her discourse with a deep sigh, and was silent.
The African author informs us, that this scene touched Mangogul most sensibly, that he built some hopes on the impotence of Zuleiman, and that some secret proposals were made on his behalf to Zaide, who rejected them, and never made any merit of it with her lover.
[CHAP. L.]
Platonic Love.
"But is this Zaide an unique? Mirzoza is no ways inferior to her in charms, and I have a thousand proofs of her affection. I desire to be loved, I am, and who has told me that Zuleiman is more so than I? I was a fool to envy another's happiness. No, there is no man under the heavens happier than Mangogul." Thus began the remonstrances, which the Sultan made to himself. The author has surpressed the rest, and contents himself with apprizing us, that the prince paid more regard to them, than to those which his ministers presented him with, and that Zaide never after returned on his mind.
One of those evenings, that he was entirely satisfied with his mistress or with himself, he proposed sending for Selim, to walk in the groves of the Seraglio. These were verdant closets, where many things may be said and done without witnesses. In their way thither, Mangogul turn'd the conversation on the reasons people have for loving. Mirzoza, mounted on grand principles, and fill'd with idea's of virtue, which certainly did not suit with her rank, person, or age, maintain'd that people very frequently loved for the sake of loving; and that connections begun by a likeness of characters, supported by esteem, and cemented by mutual confidence, were very lasting and constant; without any pretensions to favors on the man's side, or on the woman's any temptation to grant them.
"Thus it is, Madam," replied the Sultan, "that you have been spoil'd by romances. In them you have seen hero's respectuous, and princesses virtuous even to folly; without reflecting that those Beings never existed but in the brains of authors. If you ask Selim, who thoroughly well knows the catechism of Cythera, 'what is love?' I would lay a wager that he would answer you, that love, is nothing else but——"