"Who will be my enemies?"
There the pen stopped short, as if it were reflecting on something; at last it wrote down, "Another time."
The Sultan did not understand this answer, so he repeated his question, and now the pen wrote, "Ask in another place!"
"Where?"
"Alone."
Evidently it would not answer the question in the presence of the Sultan's favorite. It did not trust her.
The Sultan almost believed that he was dreaming, but now his favorite damsel also drew near and, leaning on Mahmoud's shoulder, stammered forth, "Prithee, mighty spirit, wilt thou answer me?"
And the pen replied, "I will."
The woman asked, "Tell me, will Mahmoud love me to the death?"
The Sultan was somewhat offended. "By the prophet!" cried he, "that thou shouldst put such a question!"