“I am well persuaded that you love me,” replied the caliph, “but I command you to take care of yourself for my sake; you have probably made some exertion to-day, which has been the cause of this indisposition; you must be more careful, and I beg you to avoid a repetition of any thing that may be injurious. I am happy to see you in a better state, and I advise you to pass the night here, instead of returning to your apartment, lest the motion should be hurtful to you.” He then ordered some wine to be brought, of which he made her take a small quantity, to give her strength, after which he took his leave of her, and retired to his chamber.
“As soon as the caliph was gone, my mistress made signs to me to draw near. She anxiously inquired after you. I assured her, that you had long since quitted the palace, and I set her mind at ease on that subject. I took care not to mention the fainting of the prince of Persia, for fear she should relapse into the same state, from which we had with so much difficulty recovered her. But my precaution was useless, as you will shortly hear. ‘O, prince,’ cried she, ‘then, from this time I renounce all pleasures, so long as my eyes shall be deprived of the gratification of beholding you; if I understand your heart, I only follow your example. You will not cease your tears, until you have rejoined me; and it is but just, that I should weep and lament, until you are restored to my prayers.’ On concluding these words, which she pronounced in a manner that denoted the violence of her love, she fainted a second time in my arms.
“My companions and I were a long while in restoring her to her senses again; at length, life returned; I then said to her, ‘Are you resolved, madam, to suffer yourself to die, and to make us die with you? I conjure you, in the name of the prince of Persia, for whom you are so interested, to endeavour to preserve your life. Pray be persuaded, and make those efforts, which you owe to yourself, to your love for the prince, and to our attachment to you.’—‘I am much obliged to you,’ returned she, ‘for your care, your attention, and your advice. But, alas! how can they be serviceable to me? We are not permitted to flatter ourselves with any hope; and it is only in the bosom of the grave, that we may expect a period to our torments.’
“One of my companions wished to give a turn to these melancholy ideas, by singing a little air to her lute; but she desired her to be silent, and ordered her with the rest to quit the room. She detained only me, to spend the night with her. Heavens! what a night it was; she passed it in tears and lamentations, and calling continually on the name of the prince of Persia, she complained of the cruelty of her fate, which had destined her for the caliph, whom she could not love; and not to be united to the prince of Persia, of whom she was so passionately enamoured.
“The next day, as it was not convenient for her to remain in the saloon, I assisted to remove her into her own apartment, where she was no sooner arrived, than all the physicians of the palace came to see her, by order of the caliph; and it was not long before he himself made his appearance. The remedies prescribed by the physicians for Schemselnihar, had no effect; for they were ignorant of the cause of her illness; and the restraint she felt in the presence of the caliph, only increased the disease. She has, however, enjoyed a little rest this night, and as soon as she awoke, she charged me to come in search of you, to obtain some intelligence of the prince of Persia.”—“I have already informed you of the state he is in,” replied Ebn Thaher, “so return to your mistress, and assure her that the prince of Persia expected to hear from her with as much impatience as she could feel on his account. Exhort her, above all, to moderate and conquer her feelings, lest some word should escape her lips before the caliph, which might prove the destruction of us all.”—“As for me,” resumed the slave, “I am in constant apprehension, from the little command she has over herself; I took the liberty of telling her what I thought on that subject, and I am persuaded she will not take it amiss if I speak to her on your part also.”
Ebn Thaher, who had but just left the prince of Persia, did not judge it proper to return again so soon, and neglect some important business, which he found would engage him at home; he did not go till the close of day. The prince was alone, and was not better than in the morning. “Ebn Thaher,” said he, when he saw him enter the room, “you have, no doubt, many friends; but these friends do not know your worth, which I am better acquainted with, by witnessing the zeal, the care, and the pains you take, when an opportunity offers of obliging them. I am quite confused at all you do for me, and it is done with so much friendship and affection, that I shall never be able to acquit myself towards you.”
“Prince,” replied Ebn Thaher, “let us drop that subject, I beg; I am not only ready to lose one of my eyes to preserve one of yours, but even to sacrifice my life for you; but this is not the business I am come upon; I come to tell you, that Schemselnihar sent her confidential slave to me, to inquire how you are, and at the same time to give you some information respecting her. You may imagine, that I did not say any thing but what must confirm her belief of the excess of your love for her mistress, and of the constancy with which you adore her.” Ebn Thaher then gave him an exact detail of every thing the slave had told him. The prince heard it with all the different emotions of fear, jealousy, tenderness, and compassion, which such a relation was likely to inspire; and made on each circumstance such reflections, either of an afflicting or consoling nature, as so passionate a lover could be capable of.
The conversation lasted so long, that the night being far advanced, the prince of Persia made Ebn Thaher remain at his house. The next morning, as this faithful friend was returning home, he saw a woman coming towards him, whom he soon recognised to be the confidential slave of Schemselnihar: when she came up to him, “My mistress,” said she, “salutes you, and I come from her to beg you to deliver this letter to the prince of Persia.” The friendly Ebn Thaher took the letter, and returned to the prince, accompanied by the confidant.
When they had got there, he begged her to remain a few minutes in the anti-chamber, and wait for him. As soon as the prince saw him, he anxiously inquired what news he had to announce. “The best you can possibly wish,” replied Ebn Thaher, “you are beloved as tenderly as you love. The confidant of Schemselnihar is in your anti-chamber; she brings you a letter from your mistress, and only waits your orders to present herself before you.”—“Let her come in,” cried the prince, in a transport of joy; and saying this he raised himself in his bed to receive her.
As the attendants of the prince had left the room when Ebn Thaher entered it, that he might be alone with their master, Ebn Thaher went to open the door himself, and desire the confidant to come in. The prince recollected her, and received her in a very obliging manner. “My lord,” said she, “I know all the pains you have suffered, since I had the honour of conducting you to the boat, which waited to take you back; but I hope, that the letter I bring you will contribute to your recovery.” She then presented to him the letter; he took it, and after having kissed it several times, he opened it, and read the following words: