THE HISTORY (continued 2)

The jeweller, who could not desire a better opportunity, then gave him an exact detail of the conversation he had had with Ebn Thaher; and thus let him know, that he was apprised of the intercourse that subsisted between him and Schemselnihar; he did not omit telling him, that Ebn Thaher, alarmed at the danger which his office of confidant placed him in, had imparted to him the design he had formed, of quitting Bagdad for Balsora, where he intended to remain until the storm, which he dreaded, was appeased. “This he has put in execution,” continued the jeweller, “and I am surprised how he could prevail on himself to abandon you in the state which he described you to be in. As for me, prince, I confess to you, that I was moved with compassion for your sufferings, and I come to offer you my services; and if you will do me the honor to accept them, I promise to observe the same fidelity towards you as Ebn Thaher has done; and engage, moreover, to continue more firm and constant. I am ready to sacrifice my life and honor in your service; and, that you may have no doubts of my sincerity, I swear by every thing most sacred in our holy religion, to preserve your secret inviolably. Be assured, then, prince, that in me you will find a friend equal to the one you have lost.”

This speech afforded the prince of Persia great consolation, and reconciled him to the voluntary banishment of Ebn Thaher. “I feel great satisfaction,” said he, “in finding in you so good a substitute for the loss I have suffered. I cannot sufficiently express how much I think myself indebted to you; and, I trust, that God will amply recompense your generosity. I accept, therefore, with great pleasure, the kind offer you have made me. Should you suppose,” continued the prince, “that Schemselnihar’s confidential slave has just been talking to me of you? She told me, that it was you who advised Ebn Thaher to leave Bagdad. These were the very last words she said, as she left me; and she seemed thoroughly persuaded of their truth. She did you, however, great injustice; and, after every thing you have now informed me of, I have no doubt but she was completely deceived.”—“Prince,” replied the jeweller, “I have had the honor to give you both a literal and a faithful narrative of the conversation that took place between Ebn Thaher and myself. It is true, that when he told me of his intention of retiring to Balsora, I did not oppose his design: I even told him, I thought him both prudent and wise; but this ought not to prevent you from putting your whole confidence in me; for I am ready to afford you all my services; and to exert myself most warmly and indefatigably in your cause. If you think otherwise, and decline my interference, I will, nevertheless, as I have most solemnly sworn, religiously preserve your secret.”—“I have already told you,” replied the prince, “that I place not the least confidence in any thing the slave has said. It is her zeal only that has raised these suspicions in her mind, and which have not, in fact, the least foundation. You ought, therefore, like myself, to excuse her on that account.”

They continued their conversation for some time longer, and consulted together about the best and most suitable means of keeping open a correspondence between the prince and Schemselnihar. The first thing they settled was, that it was necessary to undeceive the confidant, who was so unjustly prejudiced against the jeweller. The prince took upon himself the task of explaining this matter the first time she came to him; and also to desire her, whenever she brought any more letters, or had any message from her mistress, to carry them directly to the jeweller. In fact, they thought it improper, that she should make her appearance at the prince’s house so often; because she might by those means, perhaps, cause a discovery of what it was so much the interest of all parties to conceal. The jeweller then got up; and after having again assured the prince he might place an entire confidence in him, took his leave.

As the jeweller was going from the prince of Persia’s, he observed a letter in the street, which some one seemed to have dropped. As it was not sealed, he unfolded it, and found it written in the following terms:

“SCHEMSELNIHAR TO THE PRINCE OF PERSIA.

“I am now about to inform you, by means of my slave, of a circumstance which gives me no less affliction than it will occasion you. By losing Ebn Thaher we truly suffer a great deal; but do not let this, my dear prince, prevent you from taking care of yourself. If the friend, in whom we trusted, has abandoned us through a dread of the consequences, let us consider it as an evil we could not avoid; we must, therefore, console ourselves under the misfortune. I own to you, that Ebn Thaher has forsaken us at a time when his presence and aid is most necessary; but let us fortify ourselves with patience under this most unexpected event; nor let our affection fail us even for an instant. Strengthen your mind against this disastrous event. Remember, we seldom obtain what we wish, without difficulty. Do not then let this damp our courage; let us hope, that Heaven will be favorable; and, after all our numerous sufferings, we shall at last arrive at the full and happy completion of our wishes. Farewell.”

While the jeweller had been engaged with his visit to the prince of Persia, the confidant had had time to return to the palace, and inform her mistress of the unpleasant intelligence of Ebn Thaher’s departure. Schemselnihar had in consequence immediately written the foregoing letter, and sent her slave back to carry it to the prince without delay; and the confidant, as she went along, had accidentally dropped it.

The jeweller was much pleased at finding it, as it afforded him an excellent method of justifying himself in the mind of the confidant, and bringing the matter to the point he wished. As he finished reading it, he perceived the slave herself, who was looking about with great distress and anxiety to recover it. He directly folded it up, and put it in his bosom, but the confidant, having observed his motions, ran up to him; “Sir,” said she, “I have dropped the letter, which you had just now in your hand; I beg you to have the goodness to return it me.” The jeweller pretended not to hear her, and continued walking on, till he got home, without answering a word: he did not shut the door after him, that the confidant, who still followed him, might, if she pleased, come in. This she did not fail to do, and when she had reached his apartment, she said to him, “Sir, you can make no use of the letter you have found, and you would have no difficulty in giving it me again, if you knew from whom it came, and to whom it is addressed. Give me leave to tell you also, that you do not act justly by detaining it.”

Before he returned any answer to the slave, the jeweller made her sit down; he then said to her, “Is it not true, that the letter in question is from Schemselnihar, and that it is addressed to the prince of Persia?” The slave, who did not expect this question, changed colour; “This inquiry seems to embarrass you,” continued he, “but understand that indiscreet curiosity is not my motive for asking this; I could have given you the letter in the street, but I wished to induce you to follow me here, because I am desirous of explaining my motives to you. Tell me, is it just to impute a disastrous event to any one who has not in the most distant manner contributed to it. This, however, is exactly what you did, when you told the prince of Persia, that I advised Ebn Thaher to leave Bagdad for his own security. I will not, however, lose time in justifying myself to you; it is enough that the prince of Persia is fully persuaded of my innocence in this point. I will only say, that instead of having aided Ebn Thaher in his departure, I am extremely mortified at it; not so much through my friendship for him, as through compassion for the situation in which he left the prince, whose intercourse with Schemselnihar he made me acquainted with. As soon as I was certain that Ebn Thaher was no longer in Bagdad, I ran and presented myself to the prince, with whom you found me; I informed him of this news, and, at the same time, offered him the same services which Ebn Thaher had afforded him. I have succeeded in my design, and provided you place as much confidence in me as you did in Ebn Thaher, it will be your own fault if I am not equally useful. Give an account to your mistress of what I have now said to you, and assure her, that though I may lose my life by engaging in so dangerous an enterprise, I shall never repent having sacrificed myself for two lovers so worthy of each other.”

The confidential slave listened to what the jeweller said with great satisfaction. She requested him to pardon her for the bad opinion she had entertained of him, which arose merely from the zeal she felt for Schemselnihar’s interests. “I much rejoice,” added she, “that the Favorite and the prince of Persia have been so fortunate as to find in you so proper a person to supply the place of Ebn Thaher: and I will not fail to give my mistress a favorable account of the strong inclination you have to serve her.

After the confidant had thus expressed the pleasure it afforded her to find the jeweller so disposed to be useful to Schemselnihar and the prince of Persia, he took the letter out of his bosom and gave it her. “Take it,” he cried, “and carry it immediately to the prince; and then come back this way, that I may see the answer which he sends. And do not also forget to give him an account of our conversation.” The slave took the letter, and carried it to the prince of Persia, who answered it without any delay. She then returned to the jeweller’s, to show him the answer, which contained these words:

“THE PRINCE OF PERSIA TO SCHEMSELNIHAR.

“Your dear letter has produced a great effect upon me: but yet not so great as I could wish. You endeavour to console me for the loss of Ebn Thaher. Alas! however sensible I may be of it, this is only the least part of the evils I endure. You know these evils; and you know, that your presence can alone cure them. When, alas, will the period arrive, in which I can enjoy that dear leisure without the dread of being again deprived of it? How distant does it appear to me! Rather, perhaps, we ought not to flatter ourselves, that we shall ever meet again. You tell me to take care of myself. I will obey you, since I have made every inclination of my heart subservient to you. Farewell.”

When he had read this letter, the jeweller returned it to the confidant, who, as she was departing, said to him; “I am going, sir, to induce my mistress to place the same confidence in you which she did in Ebn Thaher. To-morrow you will have some intelligence from me.” And he saw her, in fact, arrive the very next day with great satisfaction marked in her countenance. “The sight of you alone,” said he, “proves to me, that you found Schemselnihar in the disposition of mind you wished.”—“It is true,” she answered, “and you shall hear the manner in which I brought it about. I found her yesterday,” continued the confidant, “waiting for me with the greatest impatience. I put the letter of the prince into her hand, and she read it, while her eyes were bathed in tears. As I perceived she was going to give herself up to her accustomed grief, ‘Madam,’ said I, ‘it is, without doubt, the departure of Ebn Thaher which so much afflicts you: but permit me to conjure you, in the name of God, not to alarm yourself any more on that subject. We have found another like himself, who has offered to engage in your service with equal zeal, and what is of more consequence, with greater courage!’ I then mentioned you to her,” continued the slave, “and told her the motives which induced you to go to the prince of Persia. In short, I assured her, that you would ever preserve the secret intercourse between her and the prince inviolable, and that you were determined to aid their attachment with all your power. She appeared greatly consoled at this speech, ‘What obligation,’ she exclaimed, ‘ought we to feel ourselves under to the excellent man you have mentioned! I wish to know him, to see him, to hear from his own lips what you have now told me; and to thank him for his almost unheard-of generosity towards persons who have not the slightest reason to expect him to interest himself in so fervent a manner. His sight will afford me pleasure; and I will omit nothing that I think will confirm him in his good opinions and intentions. Do not neglect to go to him to-morrow morning and bring him here.’ You must therefore, sir, if you please, take the trouble to go with me to her palace.”

This speech of the confidant’s very much embarrassed the jeweller. “Your mistress,” he replied, “must permit me to say, that she has not thought sufficiently of what she has required of me. The free access which Ebn Thaher had to the caliph, gave him admission every where; and the officers and attendants, who knew him, suffered him to go backwards and forwards to the palace of Schemselnihar without molestation. But how dare I enter it! You must yourself see that the thing is impossible. I entreat you, therefore, to explain to Schemselnihar the reasons which ought to prevent me from giving her this satisfaction, and represent to her all the unpleasant consequences that might happen from it. And if she will consider the matter again in the slightest degree, she will easily see, that she exposes me to a very great danger without the least use.”

The confidential slave endeavoured to encourage the jeweller. “Do you suppose,” she said, “that Schemselnihar is so regardless as to expose you, from whom she expects a continuance of the most important services, to the least danger, in ordering you to come to her? Recollect yourself; and you will find, there is not even the appearance of danger. Both my lady and myself are too much interested in this affair to engage you in it without due consideration. You may, therefore, very safely trust me to conduct you: and after it is all finished, you will readily enough acknowledge, that your alarms are without any foundation.”

The jeweller yielded to the arguments of the confidant; and got up to follow her. In spite, however, of all the courage he piqued himself upon possessing, his fears so far got the better of him, that he trembled from head to foot. “From the state which I perceive you are in,” cried she, “I am sure you had better remain at home, and Schemselnihar pursue some other mode of seeing you: and I have no doubt, from the great desire she feels, that she will come and find you out herself. This being the case, sir, do not go out; for I am convinced it will not be long before you will see her arrive.” The confidant was not wrong in her conjectures; for she had no sooner informed Schemselnihar of the fright of the jeweller, than the latter instantly made preparations to go to his house.

He received her with every mark of the most profound respect. As soon as she had sat down, for she was a little fatigued with her walk, she took off her veil, and discovered so much beauty to the eyes of the jeweller, that he instantly confessed, in his own mind, how excusable it was in the prince of Persia to have devoted his heart to the Favorite of the caliph. She then accosted the jeweller in the kindest manner, and said to him, “I could not possibly become acquainted with the great interest you take in the welfare of the prince of Persia and myself, without instantly forming the design of thanking you in person; and I am truly grateful to Heaven for having so soon, and so well, supplied the great loss we suffered in Ebn Thaher.”

Schemselnihar added many other obliging things in her speech to the jeweller; and then returned to her palace. The jeweller himself instantly went, and gave the prince of Persia an account of this visit; who, when he saw him arrive, called out, “I have been waiting for you with the greatest impatience. The confidential slave has brought me a letter from her mistress: but this letter has afforded me no comfort. Although the amiable Schemselnihar may endeavour to give me every encouragement, yet I dare not indulge my hopes, and my patience is quite exhausted. I know not what plan to follow. The departure of Ebn Thaher has thrown me into despair. He was my support; and, in losing him, I have lost every thing; for in the free access he had to Schemselnihar, I did flatter myself with some hopes.”

At these words, which the prince uttered in a very expressive manner, and so rapidly that the jeweller had no opportunity of putting in a word before, he said, “No one, prince, can take a greater interest in your misfortunes than I do; and if you will have the patience to listen to me, you will find, that I can afford you some comfort. At this speech the prince held his tongue, and was attentive, “I very clearly see,” added the jeweller, “that the only means of satisfying you, is to enable you to converse with and see Schemselnihar without any restraint. This is a satisfaction I wish to procure you; and I will set about it to-morrow. It will not, I trust, be necessary to expose you to the risk of going to the palace of Schemselnihar? you know, from experience, how dangerous a plan that is. I am acquainted with a much more proper place for this interview; and where you will both be in safety.” When the jeweller had finished this speech, the prince embraced him with the greatest transport.

“You reanimate, by this delightful promise,” he exclaimed, “an unfortunate lover, who felt himself already condemned to death. From what I already hear, I am sure I have fully repaired the loss of Ebn Thaher. Whatever you undertake will, I know, be done well; and I give myself entirely up to your direction.”

After the prince had thanked the jeweller for the zeal he had shown in his service, the latter returned home; where the confidential slave of Schemselnihar came the next morning to seek him. He informed her, that he had given the prince of Persia some hopes of seeing Schemselnihar very soon. “I am come expressly,” she cried, “to concert some measures with you for that purpose. It appears to me,” she added, “that this very house is well adapted for their meeting.”—“I should not have the least objection to their coming here,” replied the jeweller, “but I think they will be much more at liberty in another house which I have, and which is inhabited by no one. I will immediately have it handsomely furnished to receive them.”—“This being the case,” rejoined the slave, “nothing more remains to be done, but to get the Favorite to agree to it. I will go and speak to her on the subject, and will return in a very short time, and give you her answer.”

It was not long before she came back; and she told the jeweller, that Schemselnihar would not fail to be at the appointed place towards the close of the day. She at the same time put a purse into his hands, and told him, it was to procure an excellent collation. The jeweller directly carried the slave to the house where the lovers were to meet, that she might know where it was, and be able to conduct her mistress thither: and, as soon as they parted, he went to borrow from his friends some gold and silver plate, some carpets, some very rich cushions, and other furniture, with which he ornamented the house in the most magnificent manner. When he had got every thing in readiness, he went to the prince of Persia.

Imagine to yourself the joy of the prince, when the jeweller informed him, that he was come for the purpose of conducting him to a house which was prepared on purpose for his and Schemselnihar’s reception. This intelligence made him forget all his vexations, all his disappointments, and all his sufferings. He put on a most magnificent dress, and went out, without even one attendant, with the jeweller, who led him through many unfrequented streets to his house, in order that no one might observe them, where he introduced him, and where they remained in conversation till the arrival of Schemselnihar.

They did not wait a great while for this too doting fair-one. She arrived directly after prayers at sun-set, accompanied by her confidential and two other slaves. It would be useless to attempt to express to you the excess of joy these two lovers evinced at the sight of each other; the delineation is almost impossible. They sat down upon a sofa, and at first looked at each other without being able to utter a single word, so much were their minds absorbed in mutual contemplation. But the use of their speech was no sooner returned, than they made ample amends for their former silence. They expressed themselves in so tender and affecting a manner, that even the jeweller, the confidant, and the two slaves, could not refrain from shedding tears. It was necessary, however, for the jeweller to dry his tears, and to think about the collation, which he set before them with his own hands. The lovers eat and drank but very slightly; after which they returned to the sofa, and Schemselnihar asked the jeweller, if he happened to have a lute, or any other instrument. The jeweller, who took care to provide every thing which he thought might afford them pleasure, immediately brought a lute. The Favorite spent a few moments in tuning it, and then began to sing.

While Schemselnihar was thus delighting the prince of Persia, by expressing her love for him in words which she composed at the moment, they suddenly heard a great noise; and a slave, whom the jeweller had brought with him, instantly rushed in, frightened to death, and said, that some people were forcing the door; that he had demanded of them who it was, when, instead of returning any answer, they redoubled their blows. The jeweller, greatly alarmed, left Schemselnihar and the prince of Persia to go and inform himself of the truth of this bad news. He went as far as the court, when, through the obscurity of the place, he observed a troop of men, armed with scimitars, who had already forced the door, and were coming directly towards him. The jeweller got up close to the wall, as quickly as possible, and, without being observed, he saw them pass by, to the number of ten.

As he thought he could be of no use in assisting the prince of Persia and Schemselnihar, he contented himself with lamenting their sad situation, and took flight as fast as possible. He ran out of his own house, and went for safety to that of a neighbour, who was not yet retired for the night; not doubting, that this unforeseen and violent attack was made by order of the caliph, who had by some means been informed of the place of appointment between the Favorite and the prince of Persia. The house, to which he fled for safety, was not so far distant, but that he heard the noise they made at his own; and this noise continued till midnight. Then, as every thing appeared to him to be silent, he requested his neighbour to lend him a sabre, and, armed in this manner, he sallied forth. He went to the door of his own house; and, entering the court, perceived, with great alarm, a man, who demanded who he was. He instantly recognised the voice of his slave. “How have you been able,” cried the jeweller, “to escape being taken by the guard?”—“Sir,” replied the slave, “I concealed myself in the corner of the court, and I came out as soon as the noise had ceased. But it was not the guard that broke in your house; they were robbers, who, for some days past, have infested this quarter of the city, and pillaged almost every one. They have, without doubt, remarked, that some rich furniture has been brought here; and this was certainly their object.”

The jeweller thought the conjecture of his slave too probable. He examined the house, and found, in fact, that the robbers had taken away the beautiful furniture of the apartment in which he had received Schemselnihar and her lover; and had carried off all the gold and silver plate, not leaving an individual thing behind them. At this sight he was quite in despair. “Oh, heavens!” he exclaimed, “I am undone, without the chance of redress or recovery. What will my friends say, and what excuse can I make them, when I shall inform them the thieves have broken open my house, and robbed me of every thing they had so generously lent me? How can I ever compensate them for the loss they have suffered through me? Besides, what can have become of Schemselnihar and the prince of Persia? This affair will make a great noise, and it infallibly must reach the ears of the caliph. He will be informed of this assignation, and I shall be the victim of his rage.” The slave, who was very much attached to his master, tried to console him. With regard to Schemselnihar,” he said, “there is no doubt but that the robbers would be contented with despoiling her of her valuables, and you may be assured she will return to her palace with her slaves: and the same will probably be the fate of the prince of Persia. You have every reason, therefore, to hope, that the caliph will remain in total ignorance of this adventure. As for the loss which your friends have suffered, it is a misfortune you cannot help, nor were able to avoid. They very well know, that the robbers are here in great numbers, and that they have had the boldness to pillage, not only the houses I have mentioned to you, but many others belonging to the principal noblemen of the court; and they are not ignorant, that in spite of the orders which have been issued, to seize them, not one of them has hitherto been taken, notwithstanding all the exertions and diligence that have been used. You will make them every recompense in returning to your friends the full value of the things you have been robbed of, and you will then still have, God be praised, a tolerable fortune remaining.”

While they were waiting till it was day-light, the jeweller made the slave mend the door of the house that had been forced, as well as he could. After this, he went back with his slave to that he commonly lived in; making the most melancholy reflections all the way he walked along. “Ebn Thaher,” said he to himself, “has been wiser than I have: he has foreseen this misfortune, into which I have blindly run headlong. I wish to God I had never taken any part in an intrigue which may perhaps cost me my life.”

It was hardly day when the report of this house having been broken open and pillaged spread itself through the city, and was the cause of a great number of the jeweller’s friends and neighbours assembling at his habitation; the most part of whom, under the pretext of expressing their sorrow for this accident, only came to hear the account more at large. He did not omit to thank them for the kindness of their inquiries: and he had, at least, the consolation of finding, that no one mentioned either the prince of Persia or Schemselnihar, which led him to hope, that they were returned home, or had retired to some place of safety.

When the jeweller was again alone, his people served up a repast; but he could not eat any thing. It was now about mid-day; when one of his slaves came and informed him, there was a man at the door, whom he did not know, who said, he wanted to speak with him. As the jeweller did not wish to admit an entire stranger into his house, he got up and went to speak to him at the door. “Although you do not know me,” said the man, “I am not unacquainted with you, and I am come to you upon a most important affair.” At these words the jeweller requested him to come into the house. “By no means,” replied the stranger, “you must, if you please, take the trouble to go with me to your other house.”—“How came you to know,” answered the jeweller, “that I have any other house besides this?”—“I am very well acquainted with that,” said the stranger; “and therefore you have only to follow me, and fear nothing; I have something to communicate to you that will give you pleasure.” The jeweller then went with him, but informed him, by the way, in what manner his house had been robbed, and that it was not in a state in which to receive any one.

When they had arrived opposite to the house, and the stranger saw that the door was half broken, he said to the jeweller, “I see, indeed, that you have spoken the truth; I will conduct you, then, to a place where we shall be better accommodated.” Having said this, they continued walking on, nor did they stop during the remainder of the day. Fatigued with the distance they had come, vexed at seeing night so near at hand, and wondering at the silence which the stranger kept respecting the place they were going to, the jeweller began to lose all his patience, when they arrived at an open place, which led down to the Tigris. As soon as they were on the banks of that river they embarked in a small boat, and passed over to the other side. The stranger then conducted the jeweller down a long street, where he had never before been; and, after passing through I know not how many unfrequented lanes, he stopped at a door, which he opened. He desired the jeweller to go in, shut the door after him, and fastened it with a large iron bar. He then conducted him into an apartment, where there were ten other men, who were not less strangers to the jeweller than the one who had brought him there.

These ten men received the jeweller without much ceremony. They desired him to sit down, which he did. He had, indeed, great occasion for a seat, for he was not only fatigued and out of breath from his long walk, but the alarm with which he was seized at finding himself with people apparently fully adequate to inspire it, was so great, that he was hardly able to stand. As they only waited for the chief, before they went to supper, it was served up, when he made his appearance. They first washed their hands, and compelled the jeweller to do the same, and also to sit down at table with them. After supper was over, they asked him, if he was aware with whom he was conversing. The jeweller answered he was not, and did not even know either the quarter of the city or the place he was in. “Relate to us, then,” they said, “your adventure of last night, and do not conceal any thing from us.” The jeweller was much astonished at this speech, and answered, “You are, probably, gentlemen, already acquainted with it.”—“True,” replied they, “the young man and young lady who were with you yesterday evening, have related it to us; but we wish, nevertheless, to know it from your own lips.”

Nothing more was wanting to make the jeweller understand, that he was now speaking to the very robbers who had broken open and pillaged his house. “Gentlemen,” said he, “I am in great distress about that young man and young lady, can you give me any information concerning them?”—“Be in no fear,” answered they, “on their account; they are in a place of safety, and are quite well.” Having said this, they pointed out two small apartments to him, in which they assured him they were kept separate. “They informed us,” added the strangers, “that you were the only person who were acquainted with their affairs and interested about them. As soon, therefore, as we knew that, we took all possible care of them on your account. So far from having made use of the least violence towards them, we have, on the contrary, done them every service in our power, and no one has ever wished to treat them ill: we assure you, also, of the same treatment, and you may place the fullest confidence in us.”

Encouraged by this speech, and delighted to find that Schemselnihar and the prince of Persia were in safety, at least with respect to their lives and persons, the jeweller endeavoured to engage the robbers still further in their service. He praised and flattered them, and returned them a thousand thanks. “I acknowledge, gentlemen,” said he to them, “that I have not the honor of knowing you; but it is a very great happiness to me, that you are not unacquainted with me, and I cannot sufficiently thank you for the gratification this acquaintance on your part has procured me. Not to mention a word of the great humanity and kindness of this action, I see very clearly, that it is only among men such as you, that a secret can be faithfully kept, where there is any danger of a discovery to be dreaded; and if there be any enterprise of a more difficult nature than common, you well know how to carry it through, by your alacrity, your courage, and your intrepidity. Relying upon these qualifications, to which you have so just a claim, I shall make no difficulty in relating my history to you, and also that of the two persons whom you found at my house, with all the distinctness and truth you can require.”

After the jeweller had taken all these precautions to interest the robbers about every thing he was going to reveal to them, that he thought might be of advantage, he gave them a complete detail, without omitting a single circumstance of the attachment and adventures of the prince of Persia and Schemselnihar, from the very beginning till the meeting he had procured them at his house.

The robbers were in the greatest astonishment at what they heard. “What,” they cried, when the jeweller had concluded his narration, “is it possible, that this young man is the illustrious Ali Ebn Becar, prince of Persia, and this lady the beautiful and celebrated Schemselnihar?” The jeweller swore that he had told them nothing but the strict and literal truth; and added, that they ought not to think it strange, that persons of their rank were very unwilling to make themselves known.

Upon this assurance, the robbers all went, one after the other, and threw themselves at the feet of Schemselnihar and the prince of Persia, entreating them to grant them a pardon; and protesting, that nothing which had happened should have taken place if they had known the rank of the guests before they had broken open the jeweller’s house. “And we will now endeavour,” they added, “to make some reparation for the fault we have committed.” They then returned to the jeweller, “We are very sorry,” said they to him, “that we are unable to restore every thing we have taken from you, as some part of it is no longer at our disposal; we beg of you, therefore, to be satisfied with the plate and silver articles, which we will immediately return to you.”

The jeweller thought himself very fortunate at the favor they, by these means, did him. When, therefore, the robbers had restored what they promised, they requested the prince of Persia and Schemselnihar to come, and informed them, as well as the jeweller, that they were ready to conduct them back to a certain place, from whence each might return to his own house; but before they did this, they wished to engage each of them, by an oath, not to discover them. The prince of Persia, Schemselnihar, and the jeweller, all said they were ready to pledge their words; but if the robbers particularly wished it, they would swear solemnly to preserve the whole transaction a most profound secret. The robbers, upon this, perfectly satisfied with their oath, went out with them.

As they were going along, the jeweller, feeling much disturbed at not seeing either the confidant or the other two slaves, went up to Schemselnihar, and requested her to inform him, if she knew what was become of them. “I know nothing about them,” she replied; “all I can tell you is, that they carried us with them from your house, that we were conducted across the river, and at last led to the house where you found us.”

This was all the conversation which the jeweller had with Schemselnihar; they then suffered themselves to be escorted by the robbers, together with the prince, and they soon came to the side of the river. The robbers immediately took a boat, embarked with them, and landed them on the opposite bank.

At the instant in which the prince of Persia, Schemselnihar, and the jeweller, were getting on shore, they heard a great noise, caused by the horse-patrole coming towards them, who arrived at the moment they were landed, and while the robbers were rowing back to the other side with all strength.

The officer of the guard demanded of the prince, Schemselnihar, and the jeweller, where they were coming from at that late hour, and who they were. As they were all in a state of considerable alarm, and therefore fearful of saying any thing that might lead them into difficulties, they remained silent. It was, however, absolutely necessary to make some answer; and this the jeweller took upon himself, as his mind was not quite so disturbed. “Sir,” he replied, “let me, in the first place, assure you, that we are people of character, who live in the city. The men, who are in the boat from whence we have just landed, are robbers, who last night broke open the house where we were. They despoiled it of every thing, and carried us with them. During the whole of this time, we made use of every means in our power, by persuasion and entreaties, and have at last succeeded in obtaining our liberty, and in consequence of this, they brought us to this spot. Nay, they even did more, and restored to us a part of the plunder they had taken, and which we now have with us.” He then showed to the officer the parcel of plate the robbers had returned to him.

The commander of the patrole was by no means satisfied with this answer of the jeweller. He went up both to him and the prince of Persia, “Tell me,” said he to them, looking in their faces, “the strict truth; who is this lady? How came you acquainted with her, and in what quarter of the city do you live?”

These questions very much embarrassed them, and they knew not what answer to make. Schemselnihar, however, got over the difficulty. She took the officer aside, and no sooner spoke to him, than he got off his horse, and showed her every mark of great respect and honor. He directly also ordered some of his attendants to bring two boats.

When these were come, the officer desired Schemselnihar to embark in one, and the prince and jeweller went into the other. Two of his attendants were also in each, with orders to conduct them wherever they wished to go. The two boats then began to steer a different course: and we will now only attend to that in which the prince of Persia and the jeweller were.

The prince, in order to save the persons whom the officer had ordered to conduct them home, some trouble, told them he would take the jeweller home with him, and informed them of the part of the city where he lived. Upon this information, the attendants rowed the boat towards the shore, close to the caliph’s palace. The prince of Persia and the jeweller, although they durst not discover it, were in the greatest possible alarm. Notwithstanding they had heard the order which the officer had given, they nevertheless were fully persuaded they were going to be conducted to the guard-house for the night, and that they should be brought before the caliph in the morning.

This was, however, by no means the intention of their conductors: for as soon as they had landed; as they were obliged to return to their party, they transferred them to an officer belonging to the caliph’s guard, who sent two soldiers with them to attend them by land to the prince of Persia’s house, which was at a considerable distance from the river. They at length arrived there, but so worn out with labor and fatigue they could scarcely move.

In addition to this excess of weariness, the prince of Persia felt so much afflicted at the unfortunate and unpleasant interruption he and Schemselnihar had experienced, and which seemed for ever to annihilate even the hope of another interview, that in sitting down on the sofa he absolutely fainted. While most of his people were employed in assisting to recover him, the rest surrounded the jeweller, and requested him to inform them what had happened to the prince, whose absence had occasioned them the greatest anxiety.

The jeweller, who took good care to discover nothing to them they ought not to know, told them, that the adventure was a very extraordinary one; but that he had not, at that time, sufficient leisure to give them the relation, and that they would be of greater use in assisting the prince. The latter fortunately returned at this moment to his senses, and those persons, therefore, who had so recently asked the questions, went to a distance, and showed the greatest respect; and, at the same time, evinced much joy that his fainting fit had lasted but a short time.

Although the prince of Persia had recovered his recollection, he remained in such a weak state, that he could not open his lips for the purpose of speaking. He answered only by signs, even to his relations, who spoke to him. He continued in the same situation on the next morning, when the jeweller took his leave of him. The prince answered him only by a motion of his eye; at the same moment he took him by the hand; and, as he observed, that he was incumbered with the bundle of plate which the robbers had returned to him, he made a sign to one of his attendants to take and carry it home for him.

His family had expected the return of the jeweller with the greatest impatience, during the whole of the day he had gone out with the man who had called to inquire for him, and of whom they were entirely ignorant; and, when the time in which he ought to have returned was elapsed, they were convinced some accident even worse than the robbery had happened to him. His wife, his children, and servants, were all in the greatest alarm, and were still in tears when he arrived. Their joy at seeing him was great for the moment, but it was soon accompanied with pain and regret at finding him so much altered in so short a time. The excessive fatigue of the preceding days and having passed the whole of the night without sleep, and in the midst of alarms, were the causes of this change, and many of his people, for the moment, hardly knew him again. As he felt himself very much weakened, he remained two whole days at home without once stirring out; during which time he saw only his most intimate friends, to whom he had ordered free admission.

On the third day, the jeweller, who felt his strength re-established, thought that a walk in the open air would assist his recovery. He went, therefore, to the shop of a rich merchant, with whom he had been upon a friendly footing for some length of time. As he got up to take his leave and go away, he perceived a female, who made him a sign, and he instantly recognised her as the confidential slave of Schemselnihar. This sight affected him with such a mixture of joy and alarm, that he went out of the shop without noticing her. She, however, followed him, as he was convinced she would, because the place they were then in was not proper for conversation. As he walked rather quickly, the confidant could not overtake him, and, therefore, from time to time called out to him to stop. He heard her perfectly well, but after what had happened to him, he did not choose to speak to her in public, through the dread of giving rise to any suspicion that he had any acquaintance with Schemselnihar. For it was very well known all over Bagdad, that this slave belonged to the Favorite, and that she employed her upon every occasion. He continued to walk at the same rate till he came to a mosque, which was but little frequented, and where he knew there would not be any one at this time. The slave followed him into the mosque, and they had there an opportunity of a long conversation without any interruption.

Both the jeweller and the confidant of Schemselnihar felt great pleasure in again seeing each other, after the singular adventure of the robbers; and the fear each was in for the other, not to mention the alarm they all were in on their own accounts. The jeweller wished the confidential slave to inform him, in the first instance, by what means she and the two slaves had been able to make their escape, and if she had gained any intelligence of Schemselnihar since he had seen her. The confidant herself, however, was so very eager to learn what had happened to him since their unexpected separation, that he was obliged to satisfy her. “This,” said he, when he finished his relation, “is all that you wished to know from me; now, therefore, I beg of you, inform me, in your turn, what I before desired you.”

“As soon as I saw the robbers make their appearance,” said the confidant, “I took them for some soldiers belonging to the caliph’s guard; imagining that the caliph had been informed of the excursions of Schemselnihar, and that he had sent them with orders to kill her, the prince of Persia, and all of us. I, therefore, instantly ran up to the terrace on the top of your house, while the robbers went into the apartment where the prince and Schemselnihar were; the other two slaves also made haste to follow my example. We continued going on from the terrace of one house to another, till we came to one belonging to some people of good character, who received us with great kindness, and with whom we passed the night.

“The next morning, after thanking the master of the house for the favor he had done us, we returned to Schemselnihar’s palace. When we arrived, we were in the greatest confusion; and felt the more distressed, as we were entirely ignorant of the destiny of these two unfortunate lovers. The other female attendants of Schemselnihar were much surprised at seeing us return without their mistress. We told them we had previously agreed among ourselves, that we had left her at the house of a lady, who was one of her friends; and that she would send for us again, to accompany her back, when she intended to return. With this excuse they were quite satisfied.

“In the mean time, I passed the day in the greatest uneasiness. When night came on, I opened the small private gate, and saw a boat upon the canal that branched off from the river, and terminated at the gate. I called out to the boatman, and begged him to row on each side of the river, and look if he could not see a lady; and, if he met with one, to bring her over.

“We waited (for the two slaves were with me, and as much distressed as myself,) in expectation of his return till midnight, when the same boat came back, with two other men in it and a woman, who was lying down in the stern. When the boat reached the shore, the two men assisted the lady in getting up and landing. I immediately discovered her to be Schemselnihar; and my joy at seeing and finding her again was greater than I can possibly express to you. I instantly gave her my hand, to assist her in getting out of the boat, and she had no little need of my assistance, for it was with difficulty that she supported herself; as soon as she was on shore, she whispered in my ear, and in a tone which evinced her sufferings, desired me to go and get a purse, containing a thousand pieces of gold, and give it to the two soldiers who accompanied her. I then gave her in charge to the two slaves to help her along, and after desiring the soldiers to wait a moment, I ran for the purse, and returned with it almost instantly. I gave it to them, paid the boatman, and then shut the gate.

“I soon overtook Schemselnihar, who had not yet reached her apartment. We lost no time in undressing and putting her to bed, where she continued all night in such a state, as if her soul was on the eve of quitting its habitation.

“The next day her other attendants expressed a great desire to see her; but I told them she had returned home very much fatigued, and had great want of repose to recruit her strength. In the mean time, the other two slaves and myself afforded her all the assistance and comfort we could devise, and which she could possibly expect from our zeal. At first she seemed determined not to eat any thing, and we should have despaired of her life, if we had perceived that the wine we from time to time gave her, did not very much support and strengthen her. At length, by means of our repeated entreaties, and even prayers, we got her to eat something.

“As soon as I saw that she was able to speak without injury to herself, for she had hitherto done nothing but shed tears, mixed with sighs and groans, I requested her to do me the favor of informing me by what fortunate accident she escaped from the power of the robbers. ‘Why do you ask me,’ she replied, with a profound sigh, ‘to bring to my recollection a subject that causes me so much affliction? I wish to God the robbers had taken my life, instead of preserving me. My evils would then have been at an end: but now my sufferings will, I know, long continue to torment me.’

“‘Madam,’ I answered, ‘I beg of you not to refuse me. You cannot be ignorant, that the unhappy sometimes derive a degree of consolation from a relation even of their most painful adventures. What I request, then, will be of service to you, if you will have the goodness to comply.’

“‘Listen then,’ she said, ‘to a narrative of circumstances the most distressing that can possibly happen to any one so much in love as I am, and who thought herself almost at the completion of her wishes. When I saw the robbers enter, with a sabre in one hand and a poniard in the other, I concluded the very last moment of my existence was at hand, and that the prince of Persia was in equal danger. I did not indeed lament my own death from the satisfaction I felt, that we should die together. Instead, however, of instantly falling upon us, and plunging their weapons into our hearts, as I fully expected, two of the robbers were ordered to guard us, while the others were engaged in packing up whatever they could find in the room where we were, and in the other apartments. When they had done this, and had taken all the plunder upon their shoulders, they went out, and made us go with them.

“‘While we were on the way, one of those, who accompanied us, demanded our names. I told him, that I was a dancer. He asked the same question of the prince, who said, that he was a citizen.

“‘When we had arrived at their dwelling, we experienced new alarms. They first collected round me, and after examining my dress, and the valuable jewels with which I was adorned, they seemed very much to doubt my rank. ‘A dancing girl,’ said they, ‘is not likely to be dressed like you. Tell us truly who you are.’

“‘As they found I was not inclined to give them any answer, they put the same question to the prince of Persia. ‘Inform us,’ they cried, ‘who you are. We see well enough, that you are not a common person, as you wish us to believe by your former answer.’ He, however, gave them no greater satisfaction than I had done. He only told them, that he had come on a visit to a certain jeweller, whose name he mentioned, in order to amuse himself, and that the house where they found us belonged to him.

“‘I know that jeweller,’ cried one of the robbers, who seemed to have some authority among them; ‘and I am under some obligations to him, although he is not perhaps aware of it: I know, also, that he has another house. To-morrow I will make it my business to bring him hither, and we will not release you till we know from him who you are. In the mean time, be assured that no harm shall be done to you.’

“‘The jeweller was brought here the next day, and as he thought to oblige us, and in fact he did so, he informed the robbers precisely who we were. They immediately came and begged my pardon, and I believe they did the same to the prince, who was in another apartment. They protested to me, at the same time, that if they had known that the house where they discovered us belonged to the jeweller, they would not have broken it open. They then took us all three, and conducted us to the banks of the Tigris; they made us go on board a boat, by which we crossed the water; but, at the very instant of landing, a party of the guard came up to us on horseback.

“‘I took the commander aside, told him my name, and also that on the evening before, as I was visiting one of my friends, the robbers met and stopped me, and then carried me with them; and that it was not till I had informed them who I was, that they would release me. That on my account, also, they set at liberty the two persons he then saw with me, because I assured them I knew who they were. The officer of the guard immediately alighted, as a mark of his respect, and after expressing his joy at being able to oblige me in any thing, he ordered two boats to come to the shore, into one of which he put me and two of his people, whom you saw, and who escorted me hither. The prince of Persia and the jeweller embarked in the other with two more of his soldiers, who went with and conducted them safely home.

“‘I hope,’ added Schemselnihar, with her eyes swimming in tears, as she finished this account, ‘that no fresh misfortune has happened to them since our separation, and I firmly believe, that the grief and distress of the prince is equal to mine. The jeweller, who has served us with so much zeal and affection, deserves, at least, to be recompensed for the loss he has sustained through his friendship for us; do not, therefore, fail to take him to-morrow morning, as from me, two purses with a thousand pieces of gold in each; and gain, at the same time, some intelligence from him concerning the prince of Persia.’

“When my good mistress had concluded her story, I endeavoured, on her giving me this last order, to obtain some information of the prince of Persia, to persuade her to make use of every method to conquer her feelings after the danger she had just encountered, and from which she had escaped only, as it were, by a miracle. ‘Make no reply,’ she called out, ‘but do as I command you.’

“I was, therefore, obliged to hold my tongue, and immediately set out to obey her orders. I first proceeded to your house, where I did not find you; and, from the uncertainty whether I should meet with you at the place where they told me you were gone, I was on the point of going to the prince of Persia’s, but was afraid to make the attempt. I left the two purses, as I went past, with a person of my acquaintance. If you will wait here a little while for me, I will go and fetch them.”

The confidential slave then departed, but returned to the mosque, where she had left the jeweller, almost directly. “Here,” said she, giving him the two purses, “take these, and make a compensation to your friends for their losses.”—“There is much more,” replied the jeweller, “than is necessary for that purpose: but I dare not refuse the present, which so kind and generous a lady wishes to make to the humblest of her slaves. I beg you to assure her, that I shall for ever preserve the recollection of her kindness.” He then made an agreement with the confidant, that she should come and inquire for him at the house where she had first met him, whenever she had any thing to communicate from Schemselnihar, or wished to gain any intelligence of the prince of Persia. After this they separated.

The jeweller returned home very well satisfied, not only with the ample sum of money he had received for the purpose of making up the loss his friends had suffered, but also from the idea, that he was sure no person in Bagdad knew that the prince of Persia and Schemselnihar had been discovered in his other house, which had been robbed. It is true, he had acquainted the robbers themselves with it, but he was tolerably secure of their secrecy, from its being mutual. Besides, they, he thought, did not mix sufficiently with the world to fear any danger from them, even if they did divulge it. The next morning he saw those friends, to whom he was under such obligations, and he had no difficulty in giving them perfect satisfaction. And, after all, he had enough money remaining to furnish his other house again very properly. He did this, and sent some of his domestics to inhabit it. While thus employed, he quite forgot the danger which he had so lately escaped from; and in the evening he went to visit the prince of Persia.

The officers and attendants of the prince, who received him, told him he arrived very opportunely, for that the prince, since he left him, was in such a state as to alarm them for his life; and that they had not been able to get him to speak a single word. They introduced him into his chamber without making the least noise; and, he found the prince lying in his bed, with his eyes shut, and in a state which very much excited his compassion. He saluted him, took him by the hand, and exhorted him to keep up his spirits.

The prince of Persia perceived that it was the jeweller who spoke to him; he opened his eyes, and gave him such a look as plainly evinced how much he was afflicted, and how much more he now suffered than when he first saw Schemselnihar. He took hold of him, and pressed his hand as a mark of his friendship; and, at the same time said, though in the most feeble tone of voice, how much he felt himself obliged to him for the trouble he took in coming to see so unfortunate and wretched a being as he was.

“Talk not, I beseech you, prince,” said the jeweller, “of the obligations you are under to me. I wish, most earnestly, that the good offices which I endeavor to do you were attended with more success. Let us only think of your health. From the state you are now in, I fear you suffer yourself to be too much depressed, and that you do not take so much nourishment as is absolutely necessary.”

The attendants who were in waiting, seized this opportunity to inform the jeweller, that they had tried every method in their power to induce him to eat something, but all their efforts were ineffectual, and that the prince had taken nothing for a great length of time. This compelled the jeweller to request the prince of Persia to suffer his servants to bring some nourishment for him to take, and after much entreaty he at length obtained his consent.

When the prince of Persia had eaten, through the persuasions of the jeweller, much more than he had hitherto done, he ordered his people to retire, that he might be alone with him. And after they were gone out, he addressed these words to him: “Added to the misfortune which overwhelms me, I feel very great pain for the loss that you have suffered from your regard to me; and, it is but just, that I should think of some means to recompense you: but in the first place, after requesting you most earnestly to pardon me, I entreat you to inform me, if you have heard any thing of Schemselnihar, after I was compelled to separate myself from her.”

As the jeweller had before received the whole account from Schemselnihar’s confidential slave, he now related what he knew of her arrival at her own palace, and of the state she had been in from that moment, till she felt herself so much better as to be able to send her confidant to get some intelligence of him.

To this speech of the jeweller the prince answered only by his sighs and tears. He then made an effort to get up; he called his people, and went himself to the room where he kept his valuables, and ordered it to be opened; he then made them take out many pieces of rich furniture and plate, and ordered them to be carried to the jeweller’s.

The jeweller wished to decline accepting the present of the prince of Persia; but although he represented to him, that Schemselnihar had already sent him much more than sufficient to replace every thing that his friends had lost, the prince nevertheless would be obeyed. The only thing, therefore, the jeweller could do, was to acknowledge how much he felt confused at his great liberality, and to assure him, he could not be sufficiently thankful for his kindness. He then wished to take his leave; but the prince desired him to remain, and they passed the greatest part of the night in conversation.

The jeweller saw the prince again the next morning before he went away, when the latter made him sit down near him. “You know very well,” said he, “that there must be an end to every thing. The sole object and end of a lover is to obtain possession of her he loves, without restraint: if he once loses sight of this hope, it is certain, that he can no longer wish to live. This, you must be well convinced, is the miserable situation in which I am. Twice, when I have fancied myself at the very consummation of my wishes, at that very instant have I been torn from the object of my affections in the most cruel manner. I have now, therefore, only to think of death. I would myself be the cause of its immediate presence, but that my religion prevents my becoming a self-murderer. I feel, however, that I have no occasion to hasten its approach; because I am well convinced I shall not have long to expect it.” With these words he concluded his speech, and then gave full scope to his tears, nor did he endeavour to suppress his sighs and his lamentations.

The jeweller, who knew not what better method to pursue, to lead his attention from this hopeless and despairing train of thinking, than by recalling Schemselnihar to his recollection, and holding out some slight ray of hope, told him, that he was afraid the confidant was already come; and it would not, therefore, be right that he should lose any time in going home. “I permit you to go,” said the prince, “but if you see her, I entreat you to urge her to assure Schemselnihar, that if I die, as I expect will very soon be the case, I shall adore her with my last breath, nor will my affection cease even in the tomb.”

The jeweller then returned home, and remained there, in hopes that the slave would soon make her appearance. She, in fact, arrived a few hours after; but bathed in tears, and in the greatest disorder. Greatly alarmed at seeing her in this condition, the jeweller eagerly inquired what was the matter.

“We are all undone,” cried she; “Schemselnihar, the prince of Persia, you, myself, every one of us are lost. Listen to the terrible news I learnt yesterday, when I left you and returned to the palace.

“Schemselnihar had ordered one of the two slaves, who were with us at your house, to be punished for some fault or other. Enraged at this ill-treatment, this slave, finding a door of the palace open, ran out, and we have no doubt but that she went and told every thing to one of the eunuchs of our guard, who has afforded her a retreat.

“Nor is this all: the other slave, her companion, is also fled, and has taken refuge in the palace of the caliph, to whom, we have every reason to believe, she has revealed all she knew; and what confirms this opinion is, that the caliph sent this morning twenty eunuchs to bring Schemselnihar to his palace. I found the means to steal away, and to come and give you information of all this. I know not what has passed, but I conjecture nothing good. Whatever it may be, I entreat you to be quite secret.

The confidant then added, that she thought it would be proper to go, without losing a moment, and find the prince of Persia, and to inform him of the whole affair, that he might hold himself in readiness for any turn the event might take; and also that he might be true and faithful to the common cause. She said not another word, but suddenly went away, without even waiting for an answer.

And what indeed could the jeweller have answered in the state this speech put him in! He remained motionless, like a person stunned by a blow. He was nevertheless aware, that the business required decisive and prompt measures. He, therefore, made all the haste he could to the prince of Persia’s, and as soon as he saw him, he accosted him in a way that instantly showed he was the messenger of bad news. “Prince,” he cried, “arm yourself with patience, constancy, and courage; prepare for an attack, the most dreadful you have ever encountered.”

“Tell me,” exclaimed the prince, “in two words, what has happened, and do not thus keep me in suspense. I am ready to die, if it be necessary.”

The jeweller then related to him every thing he had heard from the confidential slave. “You see,” added he, “that your destruction is inevitable. Get up then, and endeavour instantly to save yourself. The time is precious. You ought not to expose yourself to the rage of the caliph, still less to confess any thing, although you should be in the midst of torments.”

Very little more would at this moment have actually destroyed the prince, so much was he already broken down by affliction, sorrow, and terror. He at length recollected himself, and inquired of the jeweller what plan he advised him to pursue in so critical a conjuncture, and when he had only an instant to take advantage of it. “There is nothing to be done,” replied the jeweller, “but to get on horse-back as soon as possible, take the road to Anbar, and endeavour to arrive there before daylight to-morrow. Let as many of your people accompany you as you think necessary, and some good horses, and suffer me to save myself with you.”

The prince of Persia, who knew of no better method to pursue, gave orders to have prepared barely as much as was necessary for the journey; carried some money and jewels with him, and after taking leave of his mother, set out, and hastened as much as possible to get at a distance from Bagdad, in company with the jeweller, and the attendants he had chosen.

They travelled the rest of the day, and most of the following night, without making any stop on the road, till about two or three hours before day, when the fatigue of so long a journey, and the absolute inability of their horses to proceed, compelled them to alight, and take some little repose.

They had hardly had time to breathe, before they were attacked by a considerable troop of robbers. They defended themselves for some time with the greatest courage, till all the attendants of the prince were killed: the prince and the jeweller then laid down their arms, and yielded at discretion. The robbers gave them their lives; and after taking their horses and baggage, they rifled and even stripped their persons, and then retiring with their plunder, left them in the same place.

The robbers were no sooner at some distance, than the prince said to the jeweller, who was in the utmost distress, “Well, what think you of our late adventure, and the state we are now left in? Do you not rather wish that I had remained at Bagdad waiting there for my death, in what manner soever it might have been inflicted!”—“Prince,” replied the jeweller, “we must submit to the decrees of the Almighty. It is his will that we should suffer affliction upon affliction. Our business is not to murmur, but to receive every thing, whether good or evil, from his hands with absolute submission. Let us not, however, stop here; but proceed, and endeavour to find out some place, where we shall be able to obtain relief under our misfortune.”

“Let me alone,” cried the prince of Persia, “and suffer me to end my days in this place; for of what consequence is it where I breathe my last. Perhaps, at the very instant we are now speaking, Schemselnihar is herself no more; and it is neither my wish nor even in my power, to live a moment after her.” The jeweller at length, with much intreaty, persuaded him to move. They walked on for a long time, and at last came to a mosque, which they found open. They went in, and passed the rest of the night there.

At day-break, there was only one person came into the mosque. He said his prayers, and when he had finished them, as he was going out he perceived the prince of Persia and the jeweller, who were seated in one corner. He went up to them, and saluted them with great civility. “You seem to me,” he said to them, “if I may judge from your appearance, to be strangers.” The jeweller, who took upon himself to speak, answered, “You are not wrong in your supposition. Last night, in coming along the road from Bagdad, we were robbed, as you may conjecture from the state we are in; and we have great need of assistance, but know not to whom to apply.”—“If you will take the trouble,” replied the stranger, “to come to my house, I will very readily give you all the help and assistance in my power.”

On hearing this obliging offer, the jeweller turned towards the prince of Persia, and whispered in his ear, that he thought this man did not know either of them, and that they had some reason to think it possible another might come, who would recognise them. “We ought not, therefore,” said he, “to refuse the favor which this good man does us.”—“You are master,” replied the prince, “I agree to every thing you wish.”

As the stranger saw the prince and the jeweller consulting together, he thought that they made some difficulty in accepting the proposal he had made them. He asked, therefore, on what they had determined, “We are ready to follow you,” replied the jeweller, “but what affords us the greatest distress is, that we are almost naked, and are therefore ashamed to appear in this condition.” Fortunately, however, the man had sufficient clothes about him, to be able to bestow enough on them to cover them in their way to his house. And they were no sooner arrived, than their host ordered some clothes to be brought for each of them; and, as he naturally imagined that they were greatly in want of food, and would also be much more at ease by themselves, he sent a female slave with a variety of dishes. They scarcely, however, touched any thing, particularly the prince, who was reduced to such a languid state, and was so worn out, that the jeweller felt considerable alarms for his life.

Their host visited them several times during the day; but he left them early in the evening, as he knew they stood in great need of repose. The jeweller, however, was obliged, almost immediately, to call him again, to help him in attending on the prince of Persia, who, he thought, was very near dying. He perceived that his respiration was difficult and rapid, and from this he judged he had only a few moments to live. He went up to him, when the prince said, “It is, as you must perceive, all over with me; and I am well satisfied, that you should be a witness to the last sigh I shall ever breathe; I resign my life with much satisfaction, nor need I inform you why I do so. You know it. All the regret I feel is, that I do not breathe my last in the arms of my dearest mother, who has always shown the tenderest affection for me; and for whom, I trust, my respect has ever been such as was proper. She will suffer much, from not having the melancholy consolation of closing my eyes, and even of burying me with her own hands. Tell her, I beg of you, the pain I suffer; and request her, as from me, to have my body conveyed to Bagdad, chat she may water my grave with her tears, and may afford me the benefit of her prayers.” He did not forget the master of the house where he was; and thanked him for the generous reception he had given him, and after requesting that his body might be preserved in his house, till they came to bury it, he expired.

The day after the death of the prince of Persia, the jeweller took advantage of a large caravan, which happened at that time to be going to Bagdad; where he arrived in safety. He immediately went to his own house, and having changed his dress, he proceeded to that of the deceased prince of Persia, where they were all much alarmed at not seeing the prince himself come back with him. He desired the attendants to inform the prince’s mother, that he wished to speak to her; and it was not long before they introduced him into a hall, where she was surrounded by many of her females. “Madam,” said the jeweller on entering, but in a tone and manner that evidently proved he was the messenger of ill news, “may God preserve you, and heap abundance of his favors upon you. You are not ignorant, that the Almighty disposes of us as he pleases.”

The lady gave the jeweller no time to say more, “Ah,” she exclaimed, “you come to announce the death of my son!” She instantly uttered the most melancholy cries, which, together with those made by her women, renewed the grief, and made the tears of the jeweller flow afresh. She continued to suffer these torments, and remained a long time overcome by affliction, before she would permit the jeweller to go on with what he had to say. She at length suppressed for a time her lamentations and tears, and begged him to continue his account, and not to conceal any circumstance of this melancholy separation. He satisfied her; and when he had concluded, she asked him if the prince her son had not charged him with any thing in particular to say to her, when he was at the extremity of his life. He assured her, that he only expressed the greatest regret at breathing his last at a distance from her, and that the only thing he wished was, that she would take care and have his body brought to Bagdad. Early, therefore, the next morning, she set out, accompanied by all her women, and a considerable part of her slaves.

When the jeweller, who had been detained by the mother of the prince of Persia, had seen her take her departure, he returned home in the most melancholy state of mind: his eyes cast down, and himself deeply regretting the death of so accomplished and amiable a prince, in the very flower of his age.

As he was walking along, meditating thus within himself, a woman came up and stopped directly before him. He lifted his eyes, and perceived the confidential slave of Schemselnihar, dressed in mourning, and her eyes bathed in tears. The sight renewed his affliction to a great degree, and without even opening his lips to speak to her, he continued walking on, till he came to his own house, to which the confidant followed him, and entered at the same time.

They both sat down, and the jeweller began the conversation, by asking her, sighing deeply at the same time, if she had already been informed of the death of the prince of Persia, and if it was for him that she wept. “Alas, no,” she answered: “is then this charming prince dead? He has not indeed long survived his adorable Schemselnihar. Lovely spirits,” added she, addressing the departed lovers, “in whatever place you may be, you are now sufficiently satisfied in being able, for the future, to love each other without any obstacle. Your bodies were an invincible hindrance to your wishes, and Heaven has only freed you from them to enable you to be united in soul.”

The jeweller, who was hitherto ignorant of the death of Schemselnihar, and who had not as yet attended to the circumstance of the confidant’s being in mourning, felt an additional pang when he learnt this intelligence. “Schemselnihar dead too!” he exclaimed. “Is she no more?”—“Such indeed is her fate,” replied her slave, renewing her tears. “It is for her that I am in mourning. The circumstances attending her death are singular, and it is proper that you should be made acquainted with them. But previous to my giving you a narrative of this, I beg of you to inform me of every thing relative to the death of the prince of Persia, whose loss I shall continue all my life to lament, as well as that of my dear and amiable mistress of Schemselnihar.

The jeweller satisfied the confidant in every particular she wished to know, and as soon as he had finished his account, beginning from the time she left him to the moment in which the prince’s mother began her journey for the purpose of bringing her son’s body to Bagdad, she went on as follows: “I have already told you how the caliph sent for Schemselnihar to his own palace. It was true, as we had reason to believe, that the caliph had been informed of the attachment and meeting between Schemselnihar and the prince of Persia by the two slaves, whom he had separately questioned. You may already perhaps imagine, that he was in the greatest rage with the Favorite; and that he showed strong marks of jealousy and revenge against the prince of Persia. By no means. He thought not for an instant about him. He only pitied Schemselnihar. Nay, he attributed, as it is thought, what had happened only to himself, and to the permission which he had given her to go freely about the city, unaccompanied by any eunuchs. At least we cannot form any other conjecture, from the extraordinary manner in which he conducted himself towards her from first to last; as you shall hear.

“The caliph received her with an open countenance, and when he perceived the traces of that grief with which she was overwhelmed, but which nevertheless did not in the least diminish her beauty, for she appeared before him without any symptoms either of surprise or fear. ‘Schemselnihar,’ said he to her, with his usual accustomed goodness, ‘I cannot bear that you should appear before me with a countenance so strongly impressed by sorrow. You know with what ardour I have always loved you: You must be convinced of its sincerity by all the proofs I have given you of it. I am not changed; for I still love you more than ever. You have some enemies, and these enemies have made some ill reports of the manner in which you conduct yourself; every thing, however, that they can say of you, has not made the least impression upon my mind. Drive away then this melancholy, and dispose yourself to entertain me this evening with something as amusing and diverting as you used to do.’ He continued to say many other obliging things to her, and then conducted her into a magnificent apartment near his own; where he requested her to wait for him.

“The wretched Schemselnihar was sensibly affected at so many proofs of the caliph’s concern for her person: but the more she felt herself under obligations to him, the more was her bosom penetrated with grief at being separated, perhaps for ever, from the prince of Persia, without whom she was convinced she could not exist.

“This interview between the caliph and Schemselnihar,” continued the confidant, “took place while I was coming to speak to you; and I learnt the particulars of it from my companions, who were present. As soon, however, as I left you, I hastened back to Schemselnihar, and was witness to what passed in the evening. I found my mistress in the apartment I have mentioned; and as she was very sure I was come from your house, she desired me to approach her; and, without being overheard by any one, she said to me, ‘I am much obliged to you for the service you have just now rendered me: I feel that it will be the last.’ This was all she uttered, and I was not in a place where I could say any thing by way of endeavouring to afford her consolation.

The caliph in the evening entered Schemselnihar’s palace to the sound of instruments, which were touched by the females belonging to the Favorite, when a collation was instantly served up. The caliph took Schemselnihar by the hand, and made her sit near him upon a sofa. To comply with this action had such a violent effect upon her feelings, that in a few moments after we saw her expire. She was in fact hardly seated, before she fell backwards. The caliph thought that she had only fainted, nor had we at first any other idea. We gave her every assistance in our power; but she never breathed again. This then was the manner in which we suffered our great loss.

“The caliph honored her with his tears, which he was unable to restrain; and before he retired to his apartment he gave orders that all the musical instruments should be absolutely destroyed, which was accordingly done. I remained near the body the whole night, and both washed and prepared it for burial with my own hands, almost bathing it with my tears. It was the next day interred, by the command of the caliph, in a magnificent tomb, which he had before ordered to be built in a spot that Schemselnihar had herself chosen. And since,” added the slave, “you have told me the body of the prince of Persia is to be brought to Bagdad, I am determined that it shall be placed in the same tomb with that of the Favorite.”

The jeweller was very much astonished at this resolution of the confidant. “You do not surely recollect,” said he, “that the caliph will never suffer it.”—“You may believe the thing impossible,” replied she, “but I assure you, it is not. And you will agree with me, when I have informed you that the caliph has given their freedom to all the slaves that belonged to Schemselnihar, with a pension to each of them sufficient to support themselves; and that he has moreover appointed me to take care of, and watch her tomb, with a considerable salary both for its repair and my subsistence. Besides, the caliph, who is not ignorant of the mutual attachment of Schemselnihar and the prince of Persia, as I have already told you, and who is not now offended or hurt at it, will never have any objection to it.” In answer to this, the jeweller had nothing to say; he only requested the confidant to conduct him to the tomb, that he might offer up his prayers there. When he arrived, he was greatly surprised at seeing a crowd of people of both sexes, who had collected there from all parts of Bagdad. He could not even get near it; and could only pray at some distance. When he had finished his prayers, he said to the confidant in a satisfactory tone of voice, “I do not now think it impossible to accomplish what you so properly planned. We have only to make known the various facts we are acquainted with, concerning the Favorite and the prince of Persia, and particularly the death of the latter, which took place almost at the same instant with that of Schemselnihar.” Before his body arrived, all Bagdad agreed in demanding, that they should not be separated in the grave. The scheme succeeded, and on the day in which it was known the body would arrive, a multitude of people went out even twenty miles to meet it.”

The confidant waited at the gate of the city, where she presented herself before the mother of the prince of Persia, and requested her in the name of all the inhabitants, who so ardently desired it, to allow the bodies of the two lovers, whose hearts formed but one, from the commencement of their attachment to the last moment of their lives, to be united in one tomb. The lady agreed to it; and the body was carried to the tomb of Schemselnihar, an immense number of people of all ranks following it; and then placed by her side. From that time all the inhabitants of Bagdad, and even strangers from all parts of the world, where mussulmen are known, have never ceased from feeling a great veneration for that tomb, and going to offer up their prayers at its foot.

“This, sire,” said Scheherazadè in this place, “is what I had to relate to your majesty concerning the amours of the beautiful Schemselnihar, the Favorite of the caliph Haroun Alraschid, and the amiable Ali Ebn Becar, prince of Persia.”

When Dinarzadè perceived the sultana, her sister, had concluded her speech, she thanked her most kindly for the pleasure she had afforded her by the recital of so interesting a history: “If the sultan,” replied Scheherazadè, “would suffer me to live till to-morrow, I would relate to him the history of prince Camaralzaman, [14] which he would find still more agreeable.” She was then silent; and Schahriar, who could not yet determine to give orders for her death, deferred it, in order to listen to the new story, which the sultana began to relate, on the following night.