She had barely entered the great upper room when she discovered, not only the prince and his vizier, but men from her native quarter of the town assembled there; among them were her father, her brother, and the priest who had wrought her so much evil.
She hid her consternation under assumed activity, placed the pot of coals in the middle of the room, and busied herself with preparing the candy. Presently she said:
“My masters, why do you sit silent? It was promised me that there would be amusement here. Let everyone relate any anecdote that comes to him; thus may you be enabled to find enjoyment and rid me of the embarrassment of having so many eyes fixed upon my work.”
The restraint, which had been upon all the guests, was removed by this hint from the apprentice. They immediately began to relate stories from the outside world—everyone telling that which first occurred to his memory. After they had amused themselves in this way for some time, one of them cried out:
“Ai, you apprentice! Since you are the one who [[201]]set us to talking, now, yourself, tell us a story and let us listen!”
“My masters,” answered she, “I have one habit. Whenever I tell a story I do not permit anyone to leave the room. So if anyone here wishes to go without, let him do so before I begin.”
At this they all cried out that no one wished to leave. So the apprentice sat down directly in front of the door and began.
First she related the story of the bath house, and all the while the priest was listening. As he became assured that he was about to be discovered, he made believe that he was ill and arose to go, crying out:
“My head! O, my head!”
“Keep your seat, fellow!” commanded the narratress. At which all the others said the same.