"Inform me," said the Sultan, "whom it is my happy fate to release from this wretched confinement?"
"Alas!" answered the beautiful maiden, "art thou the vile Bennaskar, or the still more vile Mahoud? Oh, let me sleep till death, and never more behold the wretchedness of life!"
"What!" said the Sultan, starting from his knees, "do I behold the unfortunate Princess of Cassimir?"
"Illustrious Hemjunah," said the Vizier Horam, as the Princess stared wildly about her, "Misnar, the Sultan of India, is before thee."
"Yes," interrupted the fair spirit, "doubt not, Hemjunah, the truth of the Vizier Horam; for behold! Macoma, thy guardian genius, assures thee of the reality of what thou beholdest."
"Helper of the afflicted," answered the Princess of Cassimir, "doubt vanishes when you are present; but wonder not at my incredulity, since my whole life has been a false illusion. O Allah, wherefore hast Thou made the weakest the most subject to deceit?"
"To call in question the wisdom of Allah," answered the genius Macoma, "is to act like the child of folly: go, then, thou mirror of justice and understanding, and span with thy mighty arms the numberless heavens of the Faithful; weigh in thy just balance the wisdom of thy Maker, and the fitness of His creation; and, joined with the evil race from whom I have preserved thee, rail at that goodness thou canst not comprehend."
"Spare me, just genius," answered the Princess of Cassimir; "spare the weakness of my disordered head. I confess my folly; but weak is the offspring of weakness."
"True," replied the genius; "but although you are weak, ought you therefore to be presumptuous? Knowest thou not that the Sultan Misnar suffered with you because he despaired? And now would Hapacuson return thee to thy former slumbers, did not Allah, who has beheld thy former sufferings, in pity forgive the vain thoughts of mortality."
"Blessed is His goodness," answered the Princess, "and blessed are His servants, who delight in succouring and instructing the weak and distressed."