Decency forbids us to enter into a detail of their conduct, nor is it at all necessary. Schahzenan saw enough to convince him that his brother had not less reason to complain than himself. The amusements of this amorous party lasted till midnight: they then bathed altogether in a large piece of water, and having put on their habits, they returned to the palace by the same secret door; and Masoud, who had come over the wall of the garden, escaped in the same way.
The whole of these transactions, which passed under his own eyes, caused many reflections in the king’s mind. “How absurd,” said he, “to think, that my misfortune is singular and uncommon! It is the inevitable destiny of all husbands, since even the sultan, my brother, the sovereign of so many states, the greatest monarch in the world, cannot avoid it. What weakness then in me to be thus affected at my own lot, and remain a prey to melancholy: it shall be so no longer. The recollection of a misfortune so common to all men, shall vex me no more, nor disturb my repose.” In short, from this moment, he ceased to repine. He had delayed going to supper till the whole of this extraordinary scene was over; he then ordered it to be brought, and eat with a better appetite than he had before done since his departure from Samarcand, and even enjoyed a fine concert that was performed during the repast.
From this time he resumed his former good humour, and when he heard of the sultan’s return, he went and paid his respects to him, with an air of gaiety and satisfaction. Schahriar, at first, took no notice of this change. He thought only of hinting at the refusal of his brother to accompany him to the chase; and without allowing him time to reply, he gave him an account of the great number of stags and other animals they had hunted, and the pleasure it had afforded. Schahzenan, having listened with great attention, took his turn to speak. As melancholy or chagrin no longer clouded his mind, his natural vivacity and wit became apparent in a thousand lively sallies.
The sultan, who expected to find him in the same state in which he left him, was delighted with his gaiety. “I thank heaven, my brother,” he cried, “for the happy change which has taken place during my absence. I am indeed truly rejoiced at it; but I have one favor to request, that I trust you will not refuse me.”—“What can I refuse you,” replied Schahzenan, “you may command me in every thing. Speak; I am impatient to know what you wish of me.”—“Since you have been at my court,” resumed the sultan, “I have only seen you a prey to the most gloomy melancholy, which I have tried, but in vain, to dissipate by every species of amusement in my power. I thought that your grief might arise from the distance you were from your kingdom; I imagined, also, that love might have its share, and that the queen of Samarcand, whom you had selected for her incomparable beauty, was partly the cause. I know not whether my conjectures were right or wrong, and it was for this very reason, and from the fear of displeasing you, that I did not importune you. Soon after, without my having in the least contributed to it, I find you, on my return from a hunting party, in the highest spirits; your mind quite free from that dark cloud which hung over it, and prevented all enjoyment. Tell me then, I intreat you, why you were so melancholy, and why you are so no longer?”
At this speech the king of Tartary mused for some time, meditating what to answer. At length he said, “you are my sultan and my master, yet do not, I beg of you, compel me to give you the satisfaction you demand.”—“Yes, yes, my brother,” cried the sultan, “you must comply; I wish it, do not therefore refuse me.”—Schahzenan could no longer resist his intreaties. “Well then, my brother,” said he, “since you command it, you shall be satisfied.” He then related the infidelity of the queen of Samarcand; and when he had finished his recital, “This,” continued he, “was the cause of my melancholy, was it not a sufficient one?”—“Oh, my brother,” cried the sultan, in a voice that shewed how much he sympathised with him, “what a dreadful tale have you unfolded to me! with what impatience have I listened to you. I praise you for having punished the wretches; and no one can reproach you for it; as it is only just. And I own, had I been in your place, I should perhaps have been less easily satisfied. I should not have been contented with taking away the life of one woman, but should have sacrificed a thousand to my resentment. I am not astonished at your melancholy; the cause was too powerful and acute not to yield to it. Heavens! what an adventure: your fate surely is most singular, nor can have ever happened to any one besides. Since, however, it has pleased God to afford you consolation, and as I am sure that it is equally as well founded as was the cause of your grief, inform me, I beg, of that also, and make me acquainted with the whole.”
Upon this point Schahzenan was in more difficulty than before, from the interest his brother seemed to take in it; but he was obliged to comply with his earnest request: “I am going to obey you,” said he, “since you absolutely require it; yet I fear my compliance will cause you more pain than even I have felt; but you must attach the fault to yourself alone, since you compel me to reveal what I wished to remain buried in eternal oblivion.”—“What you tell me,” interrupted Schahriar, “only heightens my curiosity; hasten to discover this secret, whatever may be its nature.” The king of Tartary, being no longer able to prevent it, detailed the whole that he had seen; the disguises of the blacks, the conduct of the sultana and her women; nor was Masoud forgotten. “After having witnessed this infamous scene,” continued he, “I began to think that all women were naturally of this disposition, and were unable to resist their inclinations. I was no sooner of this opinion, than it appeared to me a great weakness in any man to suffer his happiness to rest on their fidelity. This reflection produced many others, and I was, at length, convinced, that it was best to think of it no more. It has cost me some trouble, but I have accomplished it; and if you are of my opinion, you will follow my example.”
Notwithstanding the excellence of this advice, the sultan was unable to follow it. “What,” said he, furiously, “is it possible that the sultana of the Indies is capable of such base prostitution? No, no, my brother, I cannot believe what you have told me, unless I were to see it myself. It is a deception; you have been imposed upon; and it is too important a matter not to require positive proof.”—“If,” replied Schahzenan, “you wish to be witness to the fact, it will not be difficult to accomplish it. You have only to give orders for another hunting party, and after we have both left the city, with the court in our train, we will remain in our pavilions during the day, and at night we will return alone into my apartment. I am too certain that you will, during the next day, observe what I have before seen.” The sultan approved of the plan, and immediately ordered the party, so that the pavilions were erected that very day in the appointed place.
The two princes set out on the following morning with all their train. They arrived at the camp, and remained there till night. Schahriar then called his grand vizier, and without discovering his intention, commanded him to take his place during his absence, and to suffer no person to leave the camp upon any account whatever. As soon as the sultan had given these orders, he and his brother got on their horses, passed unknown through the camp, entered the city, and went directly to the palace occupied by Schahzenan. They then retired to rest, but rose early in the morning, and took their station at the same window where the king of Tartary had observed the former scene with the blacks. They enjoyed the freshness of the morning, for the sun had not yet risen; and during their conversation they frequently cast their eyes towards the secret door. At length it was opened, and to sum up all in a few words, the sultana, with her women, and the ten disguised blacks, instantly appeared, and having called Masoud, the sultan was soon too fatally convinced of his disgraceful misfortune. “Oh God!” he cried, “what indignity, what horror! is it possible, that the wife of so powerful a sovereign as I am, can be capable of such infamy. What prince, after this, can dare to call himself happy. Ah, my brother,” added he, embracing him, “let us renounce the world; fidelity is banished from it, and if it flatters us one moment, it betrays us the next. Let us leave our dominions and all the pomp that surrounds us, and in foreign kingdoms pass an obscure life, and endeavour to conceal our disgrace.” Schahzenan did not approve of this plan; but seeing the agony which his brother was then in, he dared not oppose it. “I have no other will than yours, my brother,” replied he, “I am ready to follow you wherever you please; but promise me, that you will return whenever you meet with any one who shall be more unfortunate than we are.”—“I do promise you,” replied the sultan, “but I very much doubt whether we shall ever meet with such a one.”—“I am of a different opinion,” added the king of Tartary, “and our journey may be shorter than you expect.”—They then departed secretly from the palace, and took a different road from that by which they came. They travelled as long as it was light, and passed the first night under some trees. As soon as the morning broke, they got up and resumed their journey, till they came to a beautiful meadow near the sea-shore, along which, at certain distances, were some very large and thick trees. They seated themselves under one of them to rest and take some refreshment, during which the infidelity of their respective queens became the subject of their discourse.
They had not long conversed together, when they heard a most horrible noise very near them, towards the sea; and a sudden loud and lamentable cry that filled them with dread. The sea itself immediately opened, and they observed an immense black column rising out of it, whose top seemed lost in the clouds. This sight redoubled their fears; they instantly got up, and climbed to the top of a tree, which appeared likely to conceal them. They were scarcely got there, when looking towards the spot from whence the noise came, and where the sea had opened, they observed, that the black column unfolded itself, as it were, and approached the shore. For a moment, they could not conceive what it was, but it very soon became evident.
It was one of those wicked genii who are the avowed enemies to mankind. He was black and hideous, and in form like an immense giant. He carried on his head a large glass case, secured by four locks of bright steel. With this he came into the meadow, and set it down at the foot of the very tree in which the princes were hidden. They, knowing the great danger they were in, gave themselves up for lost.