But even as he would have settled himself once more unto slumber, behold, like music upon his ear fell the soft voice of Tamineh, bidding Fatima retire to the distant window. Now this fully awoke the young warrior, who, springing quickly from his couch, gazed in astonished delight at his enchanting visitor. Then Tamineh spoke in the soft, velvety tones she could use so effectively when she chose. And she said:

“My Lord Rustem, thou beholdest before thee the Princess Tamineh, daughter of the King, and she hath come thus into thy presence because the need is urgent. For she would crave thy pardon for a great wrong which she hath done unto thee, and which, she heareth, carrieth with it a fearful penalty.”

Now amazed at this most surprising confession poured forth from tempting lips, moulded for love’s recompense alone, for a second the valiant Rustem was silenced by the wonder and unexpectedness of it all. Quickly recovering himself, however, he replied unto the maiden:

“Thou, Fair Princess! Thou hast done me a wrong? Truly, I know not what wrong thou canst have done me, unless it be the mischief wrought by thy bright eyes since they have shone so radiantly upon me. It is true, my heart whispers unto me that thy wondrous beauty hath caught me in its snare, but if that be thy sin, it carrieth with it a delightful penalty—one which thou needst not fear.”

Now this reply, so unlike that of a mighty warrior, caused a roguish smile to play about the fascinating lips of the Princess Tamineh, who, casting upon the speaker one bright, admiring glance from her sparkling eyes, then modestly dropped them, replying demurely unto this gallant speech:

“Who knoweth, My Lord, but that, perchance, I would gladly add that theft unto the other! But greatly I fear that thou wilt consider my first offence the greater. For it was I, and none other, who had stolen from thee Rakush, thy steed of battle, who even now slumbereth peacefully in the royal stables.”

So spake Tamineh, and though, as we know, her words were true, yet was it long before she could persuade the master of Rakush that she did not jest. When she finally convinced him, however, so great was his joy in knowing Rakush safe and unharmed, that, behold, he forgot to be angry with the thief. But, after all, who could blame him? for the thief was very fair, and she confessed with a voice that rivalled the magic notes of the bulbul chanting unto his mate. And besides, the master of Rakush had it in his heart to ask a great boon of the Princess, and this time he remembered that not by anger, but by charming, one lureth a bird from the bush. So, smiling, he said unto Tamineh:

“Fair Princess, behold, thou standest before thy judge, convicted of two serious crimes. Two conditions must thou fulfil, therefore, if thou wouldst obtain thy pardon. First, the judge must be allowed to gaze upon the face of the fair culprit, else how can he administer suitable punishment? And second, he must be informed as to the motive of the theft, for that puzzle hath yet to be unravelled.”

Now at this embarrassing sentence, the lovely Tamineh stood silent before her judge, looking indeed like a culprit fostering half a desire to flee. But presently, rallying her forces, she replied bravely unto the Mighty One, though her soft voice trembled and she looked not up:

“My Lord Rustem, though news unto thee—since thou art a mighty warrior—I suppose it is yet true that every maiden hath her hero. Now it is owing to Fatima, there, who is a Persian, that I have mine: a hero of whose fame and valorous deeds I have dreamed my life long, whose like ne’er was and ne’er will be again, whose glory reacheth even unto the stars. And thou must know also, O Mighty One, that every maiden longeth to gaze upon the face of the only hero in the world for her. That is why I stole thy horse. And now, since thou knowest my utmost guilt, findest thou my crime too great for pardon?”