"Waters of beauty o'er his cheeks flow bright, * And rain his glances shafts that sorely smite: Choked are his lovers an he deal disdain's * Bitterest draught denaying love-delight. His forehead and his stature and my love * Are perfect perfected perfection-dight; His raiment folds enfold a lovely neck * As crescent moon in collar buttoned tight: His eyne and twinned moles and tears of me * Are night that nighteth to the nightliest night. His eyebrows and his features and my frame[FN#470] * Crescents on crescents are as crescents slight: His pupils pass the wine-cup to his friends * Which, albe sweet, tastes bitter to my sprite; And to my thirsty throat pure drink he dealt * From smiling lips what day we were unite: Then is my blood to him, my death to him * His right and rightful and most righteous right."

The girl gazed at Nur al-Din and said, "O my lord, Allah upon thee, am I not beautiful?"; and he replied, "O Princess of fair ones, is there in the world a comelier than thou?" She rejoined, "Then why seest thou all the other merchants bid high for me and art silent nor sayest a word neither addest one dinar to my price? 'Twould seem I please thee not, O my lord!" Quoth he, "O my lady, were I in my own land, I had bought thee with all that my hand possesseth of monies;" and quoth she, "O my lord, I said not, 'Buy me against thy will,' yet, didst thou but add somewhat to my price, it would hearten my heart, though thou buy me not, so the merchants may say, 'Were not this girl handsome, yonder merchant of Cairo had not bidden for her, for the Cairenes are connoisseurs in slave-girls.'" These words abashed Nur al-Din and he blushed and said to the broker, "How high are the biddings for her?" He replied, "Her price hath reached nine hundred and sixty dinars,[FN#471] besides brokerage, as for the Sultan's dues, they fall on the seller." Quoth Nur al-Din, "Let me have her for a thousand dinars, brokerage and price." And the damsel hastening to the fore and leaving the broker, said "I sell myself to this handsome young man for a thousand dinars." But Nur al-Din held his peace. Quoth one, "We sell to him;" and another, "He deserveth her;" and a third, "Accursed, son of accursed, is he who biddeth and doth not buy!"; and a fourth, "By Allah, they befit each other!" Then, before Nur al-Din could think, the broker fetched Kazis and witnesses, who wrote out a contract of sale and purchase; and the broker handed the paper to Nur al-Din, saying, "Take thy slave-girl and Allah bless thee in her for she beseemeth none but thee and none but thou beseemeth her." And he recited these two couplets,

"Boom Fortune sought him in humblest way[FN#472] * And came to him draggle-tailed, all a-stir: And none is fittest for him but she * And none is fittest but he for her."

Hereat Nur al-Din was abashed before the merchants; so he arose without stay or delay and weighed out the thousand dinars which he had left as a deposit with his father's friend the druggist, and taking the girl, carried her to the house wherein the Shaykh had lodged him. When she entered and saw nothing but ragged patched carpets and worn out rugs, she said to him, "O my lord, have I no value to thee and am I not worthy that thou shouldst bear me to thine own house and home wherein are thy goods, that thou bringest me into thy servant's lodging? Why dost thou not carry me to thy father's dwelling?" He replied, "By Allah, O Princess of fair ones, this is my house wherein I dwell; but it belongeth to an old man, a druggist of this city, who hath set it apart for me and lodged me therein. I told thee that I was a stranger and that I am of the sons of Cairo city." She rejoined, "O my lord, the least of houses sufficeth till thy return to thy native place; but, Allah upon thee, O my lord, go now and fetch us somewhat of roast meat and wine and dried fruit and dessert." Quoth Nur al-Din, "By Allah, O Princess of fair ones, I had no money with me but the thousand dinars I paid down to thy price nor possess I any other good. The few dirhams I owned were spent by me yesterday." Quoth she, "Hast thou no friend in the town, of whom thou mayst borrow fifty dirhams and bring them to me, that I may tell thee what thou shalt do therewith?" And he said, "I have no intimate but the druggist." Then he betook himself forthright to the druggist and said to him, "Peace be with thee, O uncle!" He returned his salam and said to him, "O my son, what hast thou bought for a thousand dinars this day?" Nur al-Din replied, "I have bought a slave-girl;" and the oldster rejoined, "O my son, art thou mad that thou givest a thousand dinars for one slave-girl? Would I knew what kind of slave-girl she is?" Said Nur al-Din, "She is a damsel of the children of the Franks;"—And Shahrazad perceived the dawn of day and ceased to say her permitted say.

When it was the Eight Hundred and Seventy-fourth Night,

She resumed, It hath reached me, O auspicious King, that Nur al-Din said to the ancient druggist, "The damsel is of the children of the Franks;" and the Shaykh said, "O my son, the best of the girls of the Franks are to be had in this our town for an hundred dinars, and by Allah, O my son, they have cheated thee in the matter of this damsel! However, an thou have taken a fancy to her, lie with her this night and do thy will of her and to-morrow morning go down with her to the market and sell her, though thou lose by her two hundred dinars, and reckon that thou hast lost them by shipwreck or hast been robbed of them on the road." Nur al-Din replied, "Right is thy rede, O uncle, but thou knowest that I had but the thousand dinars wherewith I purchased the damsel, and now I have not a single dirham left to spend; so I desire of thy favour and bounty that thou lend me fifty dirhams, to provide me withal, till to-morrow, when I will sell her and repay thee out of her price." Said the old man, "Willingly, O my son," and counted out to him the fifty dirhams. Then he said to him, "O my son, thou art but young in years and the damsel is fair, so belike thy heart will be taken with her and it will be grievous to thee to vend her. Now thou hast nothing to live on and these fifty dirhams will readily be spent and thou wilt come to me and I shall lend thee once and twice and thrice, and so on up to ten times; but, an thou come to me after this, I will not return thy salam[FN#473] and our friendship with thy father will end ill." Nur al-Din took the fifty dirhams and returned with them to the damsel, who said to him, "O my lord, wend thee at once to the market and fetch me twenty dirhams' worth of stained silk of five colours and with the other thirty buy meat and bread and fruit and wine and flowers." So he went to the market and purchasing for her all she sought, brought it to her, whereupon she rose and tucking up her sleeves, cooked food after the most skilful fashion, and set it before him. He ate and she ate with him, till they had enough, after which she set on the wine, and she drank and he drank, and she ceased not to ply him with drink and entertain him with discourse, till he became drunken and fell asleep. Thereupon she arose without stay or delay and taking out of her bundle a budget of Taifi leather,[FN#474] opened it and drew forth a pair of knitting needles, wherewith she fell to work and stinted not till she had made a beautiful zone, which she folded up in a wrapper after cleaning it and ironing it, and laid it under her pillow. Then she doffed her dress till she was mother-naked and lying down beside Nur al-Din shampoo'd him till he awoke from his heavy sleep. He found by his side a maiden like virgin silver, softer than silk and delicater than a tail of fatted sheep, than standard more conspicuous and goodlier than the red camel,[FN#475] in height five feet tall with breasts firm and full, brows like bended bows, eyes like gazelles' eyes and cheeks like blood-red anemones, a slender waist with dimples laced and a navel holding an ounce of the unguent benzoin, thighs like bolsters stuffed with ostrich-down, and between them what the tongue fails to set forth and at mention whereof the tears jet forth. Brief it was as it were she to whom the poet alluded in these two couplets,

"From her hair is Night, from her forehead Noon * From her side-face Rose; from her lip wine boon: From her Union Heaven, her Severance Hell: * Pearls from her teeth; from her front full Moon."

And how excellent is the saying of another bard,[FN#476]

"A Moon she rises, Willow-wand she waves * Breathes ambergris and gazeth a gazelle. Meseems that sorrow wooes my heart and wins * And when she wends makes haste therein to dwell. Her face is fairer than the Stars of Wealth[FN#477] * And sheeny brows the crescent Moon excel."

And quoth a third also,

"They shine fullest Moons, unveil Crescent-bright; * Sway tenderest Branches and turn wild kine; 'Mid which is a Dark-eyed for love of whose charms * The Sailors[FN#478] would joy to be ground low-li'en."

So Nur al-Din turned to her at once and clasping her to his bosom, sucked first her upper lip and then her under lip and slid his tongue between the twain into her mouth. Then he rose to her and found her a pearl unthridden and a filly none but he had ridden. So he abated her maidenhead and had of her amorous delight and there was knitted between them a love-bond which might never know breach nor severance.[FN#479] He rained upon her cheeks kisses like the falling of pebbles into water, and struck with stroke upon stroke, like the thrusting of spears in battle brunt; for that Nur al-Din still yearned after clipping of necks and sucking of lips and letting down of tress and pressing of waist and biting of cheek and cavalcading on breast with Cairene buckings and Yamani wrigglings and Abyssinian sobbings and Hindi pamoisons and Nubian lasciviousness and Rifi leg-liftings[FN#480] and Damiettan moanings and Sa'idi[FN#481] hotness and Alexandrian languishment[FN#482] and this damsel united in herself all these virtues, together with excess of beauty and loveliness, and indeed she was even as saith of her the poet,

"This is she I will never forget till I die * Nor draw near but to those who to her draw nigh. A being for semblance like Moon at full * Praise her Maker, her Modeller glorify! Tho' be sore my sin seeking love-liesse * On esperance-day ne'er repent can I; A couplet reciting which none can know * Save the youth who in couplets and rhymes shall cry, 'None weeteth love but who bears its load * Nor passion, save pleasures and pains he aby.'"

So Nur al-Din lay with the damsel through the night in solace and delight,—And Shahrazad perceived the dawn of day and ceased saying her permitted say.

When it was the Eight Hundred and Seventy-fifth Night,

She said, It hath reached me, O auspicious King, that Nur al-Din lay with that damsel through the night in solace and delight, the twain garbed in the closely buttoned garments of embrace, safe and secure against the misways of nights and days, and they passed the dark hours after the goodliest fashion, fearing naught, in their joys love-fraught, from excess of talk and prate. As saith of them the right excellent poet,[FN#483]

"Go, visit her thou lovest, and regard not The words detractors utter; envious churls Can never favour love. Oh! sure the merciful Ne'er make a thing more fair to look upon, Than two fond lovers in each other's arms, Speaking their passion in a mute embrace. When heart has turned to heart, the fools would part them Strike idly on cold steel. So when thou'st found One purely, wholly thine, accept her true heart, And live for her alone. Oh! thou that blamest The love-struck for their love, give o'er thy talk How canst thou minister to a mind diseased?"

When the morning morrowed in sheen and shone, Nur al-Din awoke from deep sleep and found that she had brought water:[FN#484] so they made the Ghusl-ablution, he and she, and he performed that which behoved him of prayer to his Lord, after which she set before him meat and drink, and he ate and drank. Then the damsel put her hand under her pillow and pulling out the girdle which she had knitted during the night, gave it to Nur al-Din, who asked, "Whence cometh this girdle?"[FN#485] Answered she, "O my lord, 'tis the silk thou boughtest yesterday for twenty dirhams. Rise now and go to the Persian bazar and give it to the broker, to cry for sale, and sell it not for less than twenty gold pieces in ready money." Quoth Nur al-Din, "O Princess of fair ones how can a thing, that cost twenty dirhams and will sell for as many dinars, be made in a single night?"; and quoth she, "O my lord, thou knowest not the value of this thing; but go to the market therewith and give it to the broker, and when he shall cry it, its worth will be made manifest to thee." Herewith he carried the zone to the market and gave it to the broker, bidding him cry it, whilst he himself sat down on a masonry bench before a shop. The broker fared forth and returning after a while said to him, "O my lord, rise take the price of thy zone, for it hath fetched twenty dinars money down." When Nur al-Din heard this, he marvelled with exceeding marvel and shook with delight. Then he rose, between belief and misbelief, to take the money and when he had received it, he went forthright and spent it all on silk of various colours and returning home, gave his purchase to the damsel, saying, "Make this all into girdles and teach me likewise how to make them, that I may work with thee; for never in the length of my life saw I a fairer craft than this craft nor a more abounding in gain and profit. By Allah, 'tis better than the trade of a merchant a thousand times!" She laughed at his language and said, "O my lord, go to thy friend the druggist and borrow other thirty dirhams of him, and to-morrow repay him from the price of the girdle the thirty together with the fifty already loaned to thee." So he rose and repaired to the druggist and said to him, "O Uncle, lend me other thirty dirhams, and to-morrow, Almighty Allah willing, I will repay thee the whole fourscore." The old man weighed him out thirty dirhams, wherewith he went to the market and buying meat and bread, dried fruits, and flowers as before, carried them home to the damsel whose name was Miriam,[FN#486] the Girdle-girl. She rose forthright and making ready rich meats, set them before her lord Nur al-Din; after which she brought the wine-service and they drank and plied each other with drink. When the wine began to play with their wits, his pleasant address and inner grace pleased her, and she recited these two couplets,

"Said I to Slim-waist who the wine engraced * Brought in musk-scented bowl and a superfine, 'Was it prest from thy cheek?' He replied 'Nay, nay! * When did man from Roses e'er press the Wine?'"

And the damsel ceased not to carouse with her lord and ply him with cup and bowl and require him to fill for her and give her to drink of that which sweeteneth the spirits, and whenever he put forth hand to her, she drew back from him, out of coquetry. The wine added to her beauty and loveliness, and Nur al-Din recited these two couplets,

"Slim-waist craved wine from her companeer; * Cried (in meeting of friends when he feared for his fere,) 'An thou pass not the wine thou shalt pass the night, * A-banisht my bed!' And he felt sore fear."

They ceased not drinking till drunkenness overpowered Nur al-Din and he slept; whereupon she rose forthright and fell to work upon a zone, as was her wont. When she had wrought it to end, she wrapped it in paper and doffing her clothes, lay down by his side and enjoyed dalliance and delight till morn appeared.—And Shahrazad perceived the dawn of day and ceased to say her permitted say.

When it was the Eight Hundred and Seventy-sixth Night,

She continued, It hath reached me, O auspicious King, that Miriam the Girdle-girl, having finished her zone and wrapped it in paper doffed her dress and lay down by the side of her lord; and then happened to them what happened of dalliance and delight; and he did his devoir like a man. On the morrow, she gave him the girdle and said to him, "Carry this to the market and sell it for twenty dinars, even as thou soldest its fellow yesterday." So he went to the bazar and sold the girdle for twenty dinars, after which he repaired to the druggist and paid him back the eighty dirhams, thanking him for the bounties and calling down blessings upon him. He asked, "O my son, hast thou sold the damsel?"; and Nur al-Din answered, "Wouldst thou have me sell the soul out of my body?" and he told him all that had passed, from commencement to conclusion, whereat the druggist joyed with joy galore, than which could be no more and said to him, "By Allah, O my son, thou gladdenest me! Inshallah, mayst thou ever be in prosperity! Indeed I wish thee well by reason of my affection for thy ather and the continuance of my friendship with him." Then Nur al-Din left the Shaykh and straightway going to the market, bought meat and fruit and wine and all that he needed according to his custom and returned therewith to Miriam. They abode thus a whole year in eating and drinking and mirth and merriment and love and good comradeship, and every night she made a zone and he sold it on the morrow for twenty dinars, wherewith he bought their needs and gave the rest to her, to keep against a time of necessity. After the twelvemonth she said to him one day, "O my lord, whenas thou sellest the girdle to-morrow, buy for me with its price silk of six colours, because I am minded to make thee a kerchief to wear on thy shoulders, such as never son of merchant, no, nor King's son, ever rejoiced in its like." So next day he fared forth to the bazar and after selling the zone brought her the dyed silks she sought and Miriam the Girdle-girl wrought at the kerchief a whole week, for, every night, when she had made an end of the zone, she would work awhile at the kerchief till it was finished. Then she gave it to Nur al-Din, who put it on his shoulders and went out to walk in the market-place, whilst all the merchants and folk and notables of the town crowded about him, to gaze on his beauty and that of the kerchief which was of the most beautiful. Now it chanced that one night, after this, he awoke from sleep and found Miriam weeping passing sore and reciting these couplets,

"Nears my parting fro' my love, nigher draws the Severance-day * Ah well-away for parting! and again ah well-away! And in tway is torn my heart and O pine I'm doomed to bear * For the nights that erst witnessed our pleasurable play! No help for it but Envier the twain of us espy * With evil eye and win to us his lamentable way. For naught to us is sorer than the jealousy of men * And the backbiter's eyne that with calumny affray."

He said, "O my lady Miriam,[FN#487] what aileth thee to weep?"; and she replied, "I weep for the anguish of parting for my heart presageth me thereof." Quoth he, "O lady of fair ones, and who shall interpose between us, seeing that I love thee above all creatures and tender thee the most?"; and quoth she, "And I love thee twice as well as thou me; but fair opinion of fortune still garreth folk fall into affliction, and right well saith the poet,[FN#488]

'Think'st thou thyself all prosperous, in days which prosp'rous be, Nor fearest thou impending ill, which comes by Heaven's decree? We see the orbs of heav'n above, how numberless they are, But sun and moon alone eclips'd, and ne'er a lesser star! And many a tree on earth we see, some bare, some leafy green, Of them, not one is hurt with stone save that has fruitful been! See'st not th' refluent ocean, bear carrion on its tide, While pearls beneath its wavy flow, fixed in the deep, abide?'"

Presently she added, "O my lord Nur al-Din, an thou desire to nonsuit separation, be on thy guard against a swart-visaged oldster, blind of the right eye and lame of the left leg; for he it is who will be the cause of our severance. I saw him enter the city and I opine that he is come hither in quest of me." Replied Nur al-Din, "O lady of fair ones, if my eyes light on him, I will slay him and make an example of him." Rejoined she, "O my lord, slay him not; but talk not nor trade with him, neither buy nor sell with him nor sit nor walk with him nor speak one word to him, no, not even the answer prescribed by law,[FN#489] and I pray Allah to preserve us from his craft and his mischief." Next morning, Nur al-Din took the zone and carried it to the market, where he sat down on a shop-bench and talked with the sons of the merchants, till the drowsiness preceding slumber overcame him and he lay down on the bench and fell asleep. Presently, behold, up came the Frank whom the damsel had described to him, in company with seven others, and seeing Nur al-Din lying asleep on the bench, with his head wrapped in the kerchief which Miriam had made for him and the edge thereof in his grasp, sat down by him and hent the end of the kerchief in hand and examined it, turning it over for some time. Nur al-Din sensed that there was something and awoke; then, seeing the very man of whom Miriam had warned him sitting by his side, cried out at him with a great cry which startled him. Quoth the Frank, "What aileth thee to cry out thus at us? Have we taken from thee aught?"; and quoth Nur al-Din, "By Allah, O accursed, haddest thou taken aught from me, I would carry thee before the Chief of Police!" Then said the Frank, "O Moslem, I conjure thee by thy faith and by that wherein thou believest, inform me whence thou haddest this kerchief;" and Nur al-Din replied, "Tis the handiwork of my lady mother,"—And Shahrazad perceived the dawn of day and ceased saying her permitted say.

When it was the Eight Hundred and Seventy-seventh Night,

She pursued, It hath reached me, O auspicious King, that when the Frank asked Nur al-Din anent the maker of the kerchief, he answered, saying, "In very sooth this kerchief is the handiwork of my mother, who made it for me with her own hand." Quoth the Frank "Wilt thou sell it to me and take ready money for it?," and quoth Nur al-Din, "By Allah, I will not sell it to thee or to any else, for she made none other than it." "Sell it to me and I will give thee to its price this very moment five hundred dinars, money down; and let her who made it make thee another and a finer." "I will not sell it at all, for there is not the like of it in this city." "O my lord, wilt thou sell it for six hundred ducats of fine gold?" And the Frank went on to add to his offer hundred by hundred, till he bid nine hundred dinars; but Nur al-Din said, "Allah will open to me otherwise than by my vending it. I will never sell it, not for two thousand dinars nor more than that; no, never." The Frank ceased not to tempt him with money, till he bid him a thousand dinars, and the merchants present said, "We sell thee the kerchief at that price:[FN#490] pay down the money." Quoth Nur al-Din, "I will not sell it, I swear by Allah!"[FN#491] But one of the merchants said to him, "Know thou, O my son, that the value of this kerchief is an hundred dinars at most and that to an eager purchaser, and if this Frank pay thee down a thousand for it, thy profit will be nine hundred dinars, and what gain canst thou desire greater than this gain? Wherefore 'tis my rede that thou sell him this kerchief at that price and bid her who wrought it make thee other finer than it: so shalt thou profit nine hundred dinars by this accursed Frank, the enemy of Allah and of The Faith." Nur al-Din was abashed at the merchants and sold the kerchief to the Frank, who, in their presence, paid him down the thousand dinars, with which he would have returned to his handmaid to congratulate her on what had passed; but the stranger said, "Harkye, O company of merchants, stop my lord Nur al-Din, for you and he are my guests this night. I have a jar of old Greek wine and a fat lamb, fresh fruit, flowers and confections; wherefore do ye all cheer me with your company to-night and not one of you tarry behind." So the merchants said, "O my lord Nur al-Din, we desire that thou be with us on the like of this night, so we may talk together, we and thou, and we pray thee, of thy favour and bounty, to bear us company, so we and thou, may be the guests of this Frank, for he is a liberal man." And they conjured him by the oath of divorce[FN#492] and hindered him by main force from going home. Then they rose forthright and shutting up their shops, took Nur al-Din and fared with the Frank, who brought them to a goodly and spacious saloon, wherein were two daises. Here he made them sit and set before them a scarlet tray-cloth of goodly workmanship and unique handiwork, wroughten in gold with figures of breaker and broken, lover and beloved, asker and asked, whereon he ranged precious vessels of porcelain and crystal, full of the costliest confections, fruits and flowers, and brought them a flagon of old Greek wine. Then he bade slaughter a fat lamb and kindling fire, proceeded to roast of its flesh and feed the merchants therewith and give them draughts of that wine, winking at them the while to ply Nur al-Din with drink. Accordingly they ceased not plying him with wine till he became drunken and took leave of his wits; so when the Frank saw that he was drowned in liquor, he said to him, "O my lord Nur al-Din, thou gladdenest us with thy company to-night: welcome, and again welcome to thee." Then he engaged him awhile in talk, till he could draw near to him, when he said, with dissembling speech, "O my lord, Nur al-Din, wilt thou sell me thy slave-girl, whom thou boughtest in presence of these merchants a year ago for a thousand dinars? I will give thee at this moment five thousand gold pieces for her and thou wilt thus make four thousand ducats profit." Nur al-Din refused, but the Frank ceased not to ply him with meat and drink and lure him with lucre, still adding to his offers, till he bid him ten thousand dinars for her; whereupon Nur al-Din, in his drunkenness, said before the merchants, "I sell her to thee for ten thousand dinars: hand over the money." At this the Frank rejoiced with joy exceeding and took the merchants to witness the sale. They passed the night in eating and drinking, mirth and merriment, till the morning, when the Frank cried out to his pages, saying, "Bring me the money." So they brought it to him and he counted out ten thousand dinars to Nur al-Din, saying, "O my lord, take the price of thy slave-girl, whom thou soldest to me last night, in the presence of these Moslem merchants." Replied Nur al-Din, "O accursed, I sold thee nothing and thou liest anent me, for I have no slave-girls." Quoth the Frank, "In very sooth thou didst sell her to me and these merchants were witnesses to the bargain." Thereupon all said, "Yes, indeed! thou soldest him thy slave-girl before us for ten thousand dinars, O Nur al-Din and we will all bear witness against thee of the sale. Come, take the money and deliver him the girl, and Allah will give thee a better than she in her stead. Doth it irk thee, O Nur al-Din, that thou boughtest the girl for a thousand dinars and hast enjoyed for a year and a half her beauty and loveliness and taken thy fill of her converse and her favours? Furthermore thou hast gained some ten thousand golden dinars by the sale of the zones which she made thee every day and thou soldest for twenty sequins, and after all this thou hast sold her again at a profit of nine thousand dinars over and above her original price. And withal thou deniest the sale and belittlest and makest difficulties about the profit! What gain is greater than this gain and what profit wouldst thou have profitabler than this profit? An thou love her thou hast had thy fill of her all this time: so take the money and buy thee another handsomer than she; at a dowry of less than half this price, and the rest of the money will remain in thy hand as capital." And the merchants ceased not to ply him with persuasion and special arguments till he took the ten thousand dinars, the price of the damsel, and the Frank straightway fetched Kazis and witnesses, who drew up the contract of sale by Nur al-Din of the handmaid hight Miriam the Girdle-girl. Such was his case; but as regards the damsel's, she sat awaiting her lord from morning till sundown and from sundown till the noon of night; and when he returned not, she was troubled and wept with sore weeping. The old druggist heard her sobbing and sent his wife, who went in to her and finding her in tears, said to her, "O my lady, what aileth her and finding her in tears, said to her, "O my lady, what aileth thee to weep?" Said she, "O my mother, I have sat waiting the return of my lord, Nur al-Din all day; but he cometh not, and I fear lest some one have played a trick on him, to make him sell me, and he have fallen into the snare and sold me."—And Shahrazad perceived the dawn of day and ceased to say her permitted say.

When it was the Eight Hundred and Seventy-eighth Night,

She resumed, It hath reached me, O auspicious King, that Miriam the Girdle-girl said to the druggist's wife, "I am fearful lest some one have been playing a trick on my lord to make him sell me, and he have fallen into the snare and sold me." Said the other, "O my lady Miriam, were they to give thy lord this hall full of gold as thy price, yet would he not sell thee, for what I know of his love to thee. But, O my lady, belike there be a company come from his parents at Cairo and he hath made them an entertainment in the lodging where they alighted, being ashamed to bring them hither, for that the place is not spacious enough for them or because their condition is less than that he should bring them to his own house; or belike he preferred to conceal thine affair from them, so passed the night with them; and Inshallah! to-morrow he will come to thee safe and sound. So burden not thy soul with cark and care, O my lady, for of a certainty this is the cause of his absence from thee last night and I will abide with thee this coming night and comfort thee, until thy lord return to thee." So the druggist's wife abode with her and cheered her with talk throughout the dark hours and, when it was morning, Miriam saw her lord enter the street followed by the Frank and amiddlemost a company of merchants, at which sight her side-muscles quivered and her colour changed and she fell a-shaking, as ship shaketh in mid-ocean for the violence of the gale. When the druggist's wife saw this, she said to her, "O my lady Miriam what aileth thee that I see thy case changed and thy face grown pale and show disfeatured?" Replied she, "By Allah, O my lady, my heart forebodeth me of parting and severance of union!" And she bemoaned herself with the saddest sighs, reciting these couplets,[FN#493]

"Incline not to parting, I pray; * For bitter its savour is aye. E'en the sun at his setting turns pale * To think he must part from the day; And so, at his rising, for joy * Of reunion, he's radiant and gay."

Then Miriam wept passing sore wherethan naught could be more, making sure of separation, and cried to the druggist's wife, "O my mother, said I not to thee that my lord Nur al-Din had been tricked into selling me? I doubt not but he hath sold me this night to yonder Frank, albeit I bade him beware of him; but deliberation availeth not against destiny. So the truth of my words is made manifest to thee." Whilst they were talking, behold, in came Nur al-Din, and the damsel looked at him and saw that his colour was changed and that he trembled and there appeared on his face signs of grief and repentance: so she said to him, "O my lord Nur al-Din, meseemeth thou hast sold me." Whereupon he wept with sore weeping and groaned and lamented and recited these couplets,[FN#494]

"When e'er the Lord 'gainst any man, Would fulminate some harsh decree, And he be wise, and skilled to hear, And used to see; He stops his ears, and blinds his heart, And from his brain ill judgment tears, And makes it bald as 'twere a scalp, Reft of its hairs;[FN#495] Until the time when the whole man Be pierced by this divine command; Then He restores him intellect To understand."

Then Nur al-Din began to excuse himself to his handmaid, saying, "By Allah, O my lady Miriam, verily runneth the Reed with whatso Allah hath decreed. The folk put a cheat on me to make me sell thee, and I fell into the snare and sold thee. Indeed, I have sorely failed of my duty to thee; but haply He who decreed our disunion will vouchsafe us reunion." Quoth she, "I warned thee against this, for this it was I dreaded." Then she strained him to her bosom and kissed him between the eyes, reciting these couplets,

"Now, by your love! your love I'll ne'er forget, * Though lost my life for stress of pine and fret: I weep and wail through livelong day and night * As moans the dove on sandhill-tree beset. O fairest friends, your absence spoils my life; * Nor find I meeting-place as erst we met."

At this juncture, behold, the Frank came in to them and went up to Miriam, to kiss her hands; but she dealt him a buffet with her palm on the cheek, saying, "Avaunt, O accursed! Thou hast followed after me without surcease, till thou hast cozened my lord into selling me! But O accursed, all shall yet be well, Inshallah!" The Frank laughed at her speech and wondered at her deed and excused himself to her, saying, "O my lady Mirian, what is my offence? Thy lord Nur al-Din here sold thee of his full consent and of his own free will. Had he loved thee, by the right of the Messiah, he had not transgressed against thee! And had he not fulfilled his desire of thee, he had not sold thee." Quoth one of the poets,

'Whom I irk let him fly fro' me fast and faster * If I name his name I am no directer. Nor the wide wide world is to me so narrow * That I act expecter to this rejecter.'"[FN#496]

Now this handmaid was the daughter of the King of France, the which is a wide an spacious city,[FN#497] abounding in manufactures and rarities and trees and flowers and other growths, and resembleth the city of Constantinople; and for her going forth of her father's city there was a wondrous cause and thereby hangeth a marvellous tale which we will set out in due order, to divert and delight the hearer.[FN#498]—And Shahrazad perceived the dawn of day and ceased saying her permitted say.

When it was the Eight Hundred and Seventy-ninth Night,

She said, It hath reached me, O auspicious King, that the cause of Miriam the Girdle-girl leaving her father and mother was a wondrous and thereby hangeth a marvellous tale. She was reared with her father and mother in honour and indulgence and learnt rhetoric and penmanship and arithmetic and cavalarice and all manner crafts, such as broidery and sewing and weaving and girdle-making and silk-cord making and damascening gold on silver and silver on gold, brief all the arts both of men and women, till she became the union-pearl of her time and the unique gem of her age and day. Moreover, Allah (to whom belong Might and Majesty!) had endowed her with such beauty and loveliness and elegance and perfection of grace that she excelled therein all the folk of her time, and the Kings of the isles sought her in marriage of her sire, but he refused to give her to wife to any of her suitors, for that he loved her with passing love and could not bear to be parted from her a single hour. Moreover, he had no other daughter than herself, albeit he had many sons, but she was dearer to him than all of them. It fortuned one year that she fell sick of an exceeding sickness and came nigh upon death, werefore she made a vow that, if she recovered from her malady, she would make the pilgrimage to a certain monastery, situate in such an island, which was high in repute among the Franks, who used to make vows to it and look for a blessing therefrom. When Miriam recovered from her sickness, she wished to accomplish her vow anent the monastery and her sire despatched her to the convent in a little ship, with sundry daughters of the city-notables to wait upon her and patrician Knights to protect them all. As they drew near the island, there came out upon them a ship of the ships of the Moslems, champions of The Faith, warring in Allah's way, who boarded the vessel and making prize of all therein, knights and maidens, gifts and monies, sold their booty in the city of Kayrawan.[FN#499] Miriam herself fell into the hands of a Persian merchant, who was born impotent[FN#500] and for whom no woman had ever discovered her nakedness; so he set her to serve him. Presently, he fell ill and sickened well nigh unto death, and the sickness abode with him two months, during which she tended him after the goodliest fashion, till Allah made him whole of his malady, when he recalled her tenderness and loving-kindness to him and the persistent zeal with which she had nurst him and being minded to requite her the good offices she had done him, said to her, "Ask a boon of me?" She said, "O my lord, I ask of thee that thou sell me not but to the man of my choice." He answered, "So be it. I guarantee thee. By Allah, O Miriam, I will not sell thee but to him of whom thou shalt approve, and I put thy sale in thine own hand." And she rejoiced herein with joy exceeding. Now the Persian had expounded to her Al-Islam and she became a Moslemah and learnt of him the rules of worship. Furthermore during that period the Perisan had taught her the tenets of The Faith and the observances incumbent upon her: he had made her learn the Koran by heart and master somewhat of the theological sciences and the traditions of the Prophet; after which, he brought her to Alexandria-city and sold her to Nur al-Din, as we have before set out. Meanwhile, when her father, the King of France, heard what had befallen his daughter and her company, he saw Doomsday break and sent after her ships full of knights and champions, horsemen and footsmen; but they fell not in any trace of her whom they sought in the Islands[FN#501] of the Moslems; so all returned to him, crying out and saying, "Well-away!" and "Ruin!" and "Well worth the day!" The King grieved for her with exceeding grief and sent after her that one-eyed lameter, blind of the left,[FN#502] for that he was his chief Wazir, a stubborn tyrant and a froward devil,[FN#503] full of craft and guile, bidding him make search for her in all the lands of the Moslems and buy her, though with a ship-load of gold. So the accursed sought her, in all the islands of the Arabs and all the cities of the Moslems, but found no sign of her till he came to Alexandria-city where he made quest for her and presently discovered that she was with Nur al-Din Ali the Cairene, being directed to the trace of her by the kerchief aforesaid, for that none could have wrought it in such goodly guise but she. Then he bribed the merchants to help him in getting her from Nur al-Din and beguiled her lord into selling her, as hath been already related. When he had her in his possession, she ceased not to weep and wail: so he said to her, "O my lady Miriam, put away from thee this mourning and grieving and return with me to the city of thy sire, the seat of thy kingship and the place of thy power and thy home, so thou mayst be among thy servants and attendants and be quit of this abasement and this strangerhood. Enough hath betided me of travail, of travel and of disbursing monies on thine account, for thy father bade me buy thee back, though with a shipload of gold; and now I have spent nigh a year and a half in seeking thee." And he fell to kissing her hands and feet and humbling himself to her; but the more he kissed and grovelled she only redoubled in wrath against him, and said to him, "O accursed, may Almighty Allah not vouchsafe thee to win thy wish!" Presently his pages brought her a shemule with gold-embroidered housings and mounting her thereon, raised over her head a silken canopy, with staves of gold and silver, and the Franks walked round about her, till they brought her forth the city by the sea-gate,[FN#504] where they took boat with her and rowing out to a great ship in harbor embarked therein. Then the monocular Wazir cried out to the sailors, saying, "Up with the mast!" So they set it up forthright and spreading the newly bent sails and the colours manned the sweeps and put out to sea. Meanwhile Miriam continued to gaze upon Alexandria, till it disappeared from her eyes, when she fell a-weeping in her privacy with sore weeping.—And Shahrazad perceived the dawn of day and ceased to say her permitted say.

When it was the Eight Hundred and Eightieth Night,

She continued, It hath reached me, O auspicious King, that when the Wazir of the Frankish King put out to sea in the ship bearing Miriam the Girdle-girl, she gazed Alexandria-wards till the city was hidden from her sight when she wailed and wept copious tears and recited these couplets,

"O dwelling of my friends say is there no return * Uswards? But what ken I of matters Allah made? Still fare the ships of Severance, sailing hastily * And in my wounded eyelids tear have ta'en their stead, For parting from a friend who was my wish and will * Healed every ill and every pain and pang allay'd. Be thou, O Allah, substitute of me for him * Such charge some day the care of Thee shall not evade."

Then she could not refrain from weeping and wailing. So the patrician[FN#505] knights came up to her and would have comforted her, but she heeded not their consoling words, being distracted by the claims of passion and love-longing. And she shed tears and moaned and complained and recited these couplets,

"The tongue of Love within my vitals speaketh * Saying, 'This lover boon of Love aye seeketh!' And burn my liver hottest coals of passion * And parting on my heart sore suffering wreaketh. How shall I face this fiery love concealing * When fro' my wounded lids the tear aye leaketh?

In this plight Miriam abode during all the voyage; no peace was left her at all nor would patience come at her call. Such was her case in company with the Wazir, the monocular, the lameter; but as regards Nur al-Din the Cairene, when the ship had sailed with Miriam, the world was straitened upon him and he had neither peace nor patience. He returned to the lodging where they twain had dwelt, and its aspect was black and gloomy in his sight. Then he saw the metier wherewith she had been wont to make the zones and her dress that had been upon her beauteous body; so he pressed them to his breast, whilst the tears gushed from his eyes and he recited these couplets,

"Say me, will Union after parting e'er return to be * After long-lasting torments, after hopeless misery? Alas! Alas! what wont to be shall never more return * But grant me still return of dearest her these eyne may see. I wonder me will Allah deign our parted lives unite * And will my dear one's plighted troth preserve with constancy! Naught am I save the prey of death since parting parted us; * And will my friends consent that I am a wierd so deadly dree? Alas my sorrow! Sorrowing the lover scant avails; * Indeed I melt away in grief and passion's ecstasy: Past is the time of my delight when were we two conjoined: * Would Heaven I wot if Destiny mine esperance will degree! Redouble then, O Heart, thy pains and, O mine eyes, o'erflow * With tears till not a tear remain within these eyne of me? Again alas for loved ones lost and loss of patience eke! * For helpers fail me and my griefs are grown beyond decree. The Lord of Threefold Worlds I pray He deign to me return * My lover and we meet as wont in joy and jubilee."

Then Nur al-Din wept with weeping galore than which naught could be more; and peering into ever corner of the room, recited these two couplets,

"I view their traces and with pain I pine * And by their sometime home I weep and yearn; And Him I pray who parting deigned decree * Some day He deign vouchsafe me their return!"

Then Nur al-Din sprang to his feet and locking the door of the house, fared forth running at speed, to the sea shore whence he fixed his eyes on the place of the ship which had carried off his Miriam whilst sighs burst from his breast and tears from his lids as he recited these couplets,

"Peace be with you, sans you naught compensateth me * The near, the far, two cases only here I see: I yearn for you at every hour and tide as yearns * For water-place wayfarer plodding wearily. With you abide my hearing, heart and eyen-sight * And (sweeter than the honeycomb) your memory. Then, O my Grief when fared afar your retinue * And bore that ship away my sole expectancy."

And Nur al-Din wept and wailed, bemoaned himself and complained, crying out and saying, "O Miriam! O Miriam! Was it but a vision of thee I saw in sleep or in the allusions of dreams?" And by reason of that which grew on him of regrets, he recited these couplets,[FN#506]

"Mazed with thy love no more I can feign patience, This heart of mine has held none dear but thee! And if mine eye hath gazed on other's beauty, Ne'er be it joyed again with sight of thee! I've sworn an oath I'll ne'er forget to love thee, And sad's this breast that pines to meet with thee! Thou'st made me drink a love-cup full of passion, Blest time! When I may give the draught to thee! Take with thee this my form where'er thou goest, And when thou 'rt dead let me be laid near thee! Call on me in my tomb, my bones shall answer And sigh responses to a call from thee! If it were asked, 'What wouldst thou Heaven should order?' 'His will,' I answer, 'First, and then what pleases thee.'"

As Nur al-Din was in this case, weeping and crying out, "O Miriam! O Miriam!" behold, an old man landed from a vessel and coming up to him, saw him shedding tears and heard him reciting these verses,

"O Maryam of beauty[FN#507] return, for these eyne * Are as densest clouds railing drops in line: Ask amid mankind and my railers shall say * That mine eyelids are drowning these eyeballs of mine."

Said the old man, "O my son, meseems thou weepest for the damsel who sailed yesterday with the Frank?" When Nur al-Din heard these words of the Shaykh he fell down in a swoon and lay for a long while without life; then, coming to himself, he wept with sore weeping and improvised these couplets,

"Shall we e'er be unite after severance-tide * And return in the perfectest cheer to bide? In my heart indeed is a lowe of love * And I'm pained by the spies who my pain deride: My days I pass in amaze distraught, * And her image a-nights I would see by side: By Allah, no hour brings me solace of love * And how can it when makebates vex me and chide? A soft-sided damsel of slenderest waist * Her arrows of eyne on my heart hath plied? Her form is like Ban[FN#508]-tree branch in garth * Shame her charms the sun who his face most hide: Did I not fear God (be He glorified!) * 'My Fair be glorified!' Had I cried."

The old man looked at him and noting his beauty and grace and symmetry and the fluency of his tongue and the seductiveness of his charms, had ruth on him and his heart mourned for his case. Now that Shaykh was the captain of a ship, bound to the damsel's city, and in this ship were a hundred Moslem merchants, men of the Saving Faith; so he said to Nur al-Din, "Have patience and all will yet be well; I will bring thee to her an it be the will of Allah, extolled and exalted be He!"—And Shahrazad perceived the dawn of day and ceased saying her permitted say.

When it was the Eight Hundred and Eighty-first Night,

She pursued, It hath reached me, O auspicious King, that when the old skipper said to Nur al-Din, "I will bring thee to her, Inshallah!" the youth asked, "When shall we set out?" and the other said, "Come but three days more and we will depart in peace and prosperity." Nur al-Din rejoiced at the captain's words with joy exceeding and thanked him for his bounty and benevolence. Then he recalled the days of love-liesse dear and union with his slave-girl without peer, and he shed bitter tears and recited these couplets,

"Say, will to me and you the Ruthful union show * My lords! Shall e'er I win the wish of me or no? A visit-boon by you will shifty Time vouchsafe? * And seize your image eye-lids which so hungry grow? With you were Union to be sold, I fain would buy; * But ah, I see such grace doth all my means outgo!"

Then Nur al-Din went forthright to the market and bought what he needed of viaticum and other necessaries for the voyage and returned to the Rais, who said to him, "O my son, what is that thou hast with thee?" said he, "My provisions and all whereof I have need for the voyage." Thereupon quoth the old man, laughing, "O my son, art thou going a-pleasuring to Pompey's Pillar?[FN#509] Verily, between thee and that thou seekest is two months' journey and the wind be fair and the weather favourable." Then he took of him somewhat of money and going to the bazar, bought him a sufficiency of all that he needed for the voyage and filled him a large earthen jar[FN#510] with fresh water. Nur al-Din abode in the ship three days until the merchants had made an end of their precautions and preparations and embarked, when they set sail and putting out to sea, fared on one-and-fifty days. After this, there came out upon them corsairs,[FN#511] pirates who sacked the ship and taking Nur al-Din and all therein prisoners, carried them to the city of France and paraded them before the King, who bade cast them into jail, Nur al-Din amongst the number. As they were being led to prison the galleon[FN#512] arrived with the Princess Miriam and the one-eyed Wazir, and when it made the harbour, the lameter landed and going up to the King gave him the glad news of his daughter's safe return: whereupon they beat the kettledrums for good tidings and decorated the city after the goodliest fashion. Then the King took horse, with all his guards and lords and notables and rode down to the sea to meet her. The moment the ship cast anchor she came ashore, and the King saluted her and embraced her and mounting her on a bloodsteed, bore her to the palace, where her mother received her with open arms, and asked her of her case and whether she was a maid as before or whether she had become a woman carnally known by man.[FN#513] She replied, "O my mother, how should a girl, who hath been sold from merchant to merchant in the land of Moslems, a slave commanded, abide a virgin? The merchant who bought me threatened me with the bastinado and violenced me and took my maidenhead, after which he sold me to another and he again to a third." When the Queen heard these her words, the light in her eyes became night and she repeated her confession to the King who was chagrined thereat and his affair was grievous to him. So he expounded her case to his Grandees and Patricians[FN#514] who said to him, "O King, she hath been defiled by the Moslems and naught will purify her save the striking off of an hundred Mohammedan heads." Whereupon the King sent for the True Believers he had imprisoned; and they decapitated them, one after another, beginning with the captain, till none was left save Nur al-Din. They tare off a strip of his skirt and binding his eyes therewith, led him to the rug of blood and were about to smite his neck, when behold, an ancient dame came up to the King at that very moment and said, "O my lord, thou didst vow to bestow upon each and every church five Moslem captives, to held us in the service thereof, so Allah would restore thee thy daughter the Princess Miriam; and now she is restored to thee, so do thou fulfil thy vow." The King replied, "O my mother, by the virtue of the Messiah and the Veritable Faith, there remaineth to me of the prisoners but this one captive, whom they are about to put to death: so take him with thee to help in the service of the church, till there come to me more prisoners of the Moslems, when I will send thee other four. Hadst thou come earlier, before they hewed off the heads of these, I had given thee as many as thou wouldest have." The old woman thanked the King for his boon and wished him continuance of life, glory and prosperity. Then without loss of time she went up to Nur al-Din, whom she raised from the rug of blood; and, looking narrowly at him saw a comely youth and a dainty, with a delicate skin and a face like the moon at her full; whereupon she carried him to the church and said to him, "O my son, doff these clothes which are upon thee, for they are fit only for the service of the Sultan."[FN#515] So saying the ancient dame brought him a gown and hood of black wool and a broad girdle,[FN#516] in which she clad and cowled him; and, after binding on his belt, bade him do the service of the church. Accordingly, he served the church seven days, at the end of which time behold, the old woman came up to him and said, "O Moslem, don thy silken dress and take these ten dirhams and go out forthright and divert thyself abroad this day, and tarry not here a single moment, lest thou lose thy life." Quoth he, "What is to do, O my mother?"; and quoth she, "Know, O my son, that the King's daughter, the Princess Miriam the Girdle-girl, hath a mind to visit the church this day, to seek a blessing by pilgrimage and to make oblation thereto, a douceur[FN#517] of thank-offering for her deliverance from the land of the Moslems and in fulfilment of the vows she vowed to the Messiah, so he would save her. With her are four hundred damsels, not one of whom but is perfect in beauty and loveliness and all of them are daughters of Wazirs and Emirs and Grandees: they will be here during this very hour and if their eyes fall on thee in this church, they will hew thee in pieces with swords." Thereupon Nur al-Din took the ten dirhams from the ancient dame, and donning his own dress, went out to the bazar and walked about the city and took his pleasure therein, till he knew its highways and gates,—And Shahrazad perceived the dawn of day and ceased to say her permitted say.

When it was the Eight Hundred and Eighty-second Night,

She resumed, It hath reached me, O auspicious King, that Nur al-Din, after donning his own dress and taking the ten dirhams from the ancient dame, fared forth to the market streets and wandered about a while till he knew every quarter of the city, after which he returned to the church[FN#518] and saw the Princess Miriam the Girdle-girl, daughter of the King of France come up to the fane, attended by four hundred damsels, high-bosomed maids like moons, amongst whom was the daughter of the one-eyed Wazir and those of the Emirs and Lords of the realm; and she walked in their midst as she were moon among stars. When his eyes fell upon her Nur al-Din could not contain himself, but cried out from the core of his heart, "O Miriam! O Miriam!" When the damsels heard his outcry they ran at him with swords shining bright like flashes of leven-light and would have slain him forthright. But the Princess turned and looking on him, knew him with fullest knowledge, and said to her maidens, "Leave this youth; doubtless he is mad, for the signs of madness be manifest on his face." When Nur al-Din heard this, he uncovered his head and rolled his eyes and made signs with his hands and twisted his legs, foaming the while at the mouth. Quoth the Princess, "Said I not that the poor youth was mad? Bring him to me and stand off from him, that I may hear what he saith; for I know the speech of the Arabs and will look into his case and see if his madness admit of cure or not." So they laid hold of him and brought him to her; after which they withdrew to a distance and she said to him, "Hast thou come hither on my account and ventured thy life for my sake and feignest thyself mad?" He replied, "O my lady, hast thou not heard the saying of the poet?,[FN#519]

'Quoth they, 'Thou'rt surely raving mad for her thou lov'st;' and I, 'There is no pleasantness in life but for the mad,' reply. Compare my madness with herself for whom I rave; if she Accord therewith, then blame me not for that which I aby.'"

Miriam replied, "By Allah, O Nur al-Din, indeed thou hast sinned against thyself, for I warned thee of this before it befell thee: yet wouldst thou not hearken to me, but followest thine own lust: albeit that whereof I gave thee to know I learnt not by means of inspiration nor physiognomy[FN#520] nor dreams, but by eye-witness and very sight; for I saw the one-eyed Wazir and knew that he was not come to Alexandria but in quest of me." Said he, "O my lady Miriam, we seek refuge with Allah from the error of the intelligent!"[FN#521] Then his affliction redoubled on him and he recited this saying,[FN#522]

"Pass o'er my fault, for 'tis the wise man's wont Of other's sins to take no harsh account; And as all crimes have made my breast their site, So thine all shapes of mercy should unite. Who from above would mercy seek to know, Should first be merciful to those below."

Then Nur al-Din and Princess Miriam ceased not from lovers' chiding which to trace would be tedious, relating each to other that which had befallen them and reciting verses and making moan, one to other, of the violence of passion and the pangs of pine and desire, whilst the tears ran down their cheeks like rivers, till there was left them no strength to say a word and so they continued till day deprated and night darkened. Now the Princess was clad in a green dress, purfled with red gold and broidered with pearls and gems which enhanced her beauty and loveliness and inner grace; and right well quoth the poet of her,[FN#523]

"Like the full moon she shineth in garments all of green, With loosened vest and collars and flowing hair beseen. 'What is thy name?' I asked her, and she replied, 'I'm she Who roasts the hearts of lovers on coals of love and teen. I am the pure white silver, ay, and the gold wherewith The bondsmen from strait prison and dour released been.' Quoth I, 'I'm all with rigours consumed;' but 'On a rock,' Said she, 'such as my heart is, thy plaints are wasted clean.' 'Even if thy heart,' I answered, 'be rock in very deed, Yet hath God caused fair water well from the rock, I ween.'"

And when night darkened on them the Lady Miriam went up to her women and asked them, "Have ye locked the door?"; and they answered, "Indeed we have locked it." So she took them and went with them to a place called the hapel of the Lady Mary the Virgin, Mother of Light, because the Nazarenes hold that there are her heart and soul. The girls betook themselves to prayer for blessings from above and circuited all the church; and when they had made an end of their visitation, the Princess turned to them and said, "I desire to pass the night alone in the Virgin's chapel and seek a blessing thereof, for that yearning after it hath betided me, by reason of my long absence in the land of the Moslems; and as for you, when ye have made an end of your visitation, do ye sleep whereso ye will." Replied they, "With love and goodly gree: be it as thou wilt!"; and leaving her alone in the chapel, dispersed about the church and slept. The Lady Miriam waited till they were out of sight and hearing, then went in search of Nur al-Din, whom she found sitting in a corner on live coals, awaiting her. He rose and kissed her hands and feet and she sat down and seated him by her side. Then she pulled off all that was upon her of raiment and ornaments and fine linen and taking Nur al-Din in her arms strained him to her bosom. And they ceased not, she and he, from kissing and clipping and strumming to the tune of "hocus-pocus,"[FN#524] saying the while, "How short are the nights of Union and the nights of Disunion how long are they!" and reciting these verses,

"O Night of Union, Time's virginal prized, * White star of the Nights with auroral dyes, Thou garrest Dawn after Noon to rise * Say art thou Kohl in Morning's Eyes, Or wast thou Slumber to bleared eye lief? O Night of Parting, how long thy stay * Whose latest hours aye the first portray, This endless circle that noways may * Show breach till the coming of Judgment-day, Day when dies the lover of parting-grief."[FN#525]

As they were in this mighty delight and joy engrossing they heard one of the servants of the Saint[FN#526] smite the gong[FN#527] upon the roof, to call the folk to the rites of their worship, and he was even as saith the poet,

"I saw him strike the gong and asked of him straightway, * Who made the Fawn[FN#528] at striking going so knowing, eh?' And to my soul, 'What smiting irketh thee the more— * Striking the gong or striking note of going,[FN#529] say?'"

—And Shahrazad perceived the dawn of day and ceased saying her permitted say.

When it was the Eight Hundred and Eighty-third Night,

She said, It hath reached me, O auspicious King, that Nur al-Din and Miriam the Girdle-girl rose forthwith and donned her clothes and ornaments; but this was grievous to Nur al-Din, and his gladness was troubled; the tears streamed from his eyes and he recited these couplets,

"I ceased not to kiss that cheek with budding roses dight * And eyes down cast and bit the same with most emphatic bite; Until we were in gloria[FN#530] and lay him down the spy * And sank his eyes within his brain declining further sight: And struck the gongs as they that had the charge of them were like * Muezzin crying duty-prayers in Allah's book indite. Then rose she up right hastily and donned the dress she'd doffed * Sore fearing lest a shooting-star[FN#531] upon our heads alight. And cried, 'O wish and will of me, O end of all my hopes! * Behold the morning comes to us in brightest whitest light.' I swear if but one day of rule were given to my life * And I were made an Emperor of majesty and might, Adown I'd break the buttresses of churches one and all * And by their slaughter rid the earth of every shaveling wight."

Then the Lady Miriam pressed him to her bosom and kissed his cheek and asked him, "O Nur al-Din, how long hast thou been in this town?" "Seven days." "Hast thou walked about in it, and dost thou know its ways and issues and its sea-gates and land gates?" "Yes!" "Knowest thou the way to the offertory-chest[FN#532] of the church?" "Yes!" "Since thou knowest all this, as soon as the first third[FN#533] of the coming night is over, go to the offertory-chest and take thence what thou wishest and willest. Then open the door that giveth upon the tunnel[FN#534] leading to the sea, and go down to the harbour, where thou wilt find a little ship and ten men therein, and when the Rais shall see thee, he will put out his hand to thee. Give him thy hand and he will take thee up into the ship, and do thou wait there till I come to thee. But 'ware and have a care lest sleep overtake thee this night, or thou wilt repent whenas repentance shall avail thee naught." Then the Princess farewelled him and going forth from Nur al-Din, aroused from sleep her women and the rest of the damsels, with whom she betook herself to the church door and knocked; whereupon the ancient dame opened to her and she went forth and found the knights and varlets standing without. They brought her a dapple she-mule and she mounted: whereupon they raised over her head a canopy[FN#535] with curtains of silk, and the knights took hold of the mule's halter. Then the guards[FN#536] encompassed her about, drawn brand in hand, and fared on with her, followed by her, till they brought her to the palace of the King her father. Meanwhile, Nur al-Din abode concealed behind the curtain, under cover of which Miriam and he had passed the night, till it was broad day, when the main door was opened and the church became full of people. Then he mingled with the folk and accosted the old Prioress, the guardian[FN#537] of the shrine, who said to him, "Where didst thou lie last night?" Said he, "In the town as thou badest me." Quoth she, "O my son, thou hast done the right thing; for, hadst thou nighted in the Church, she had slain thee on the foulest wise." And quoth he, "Praised be Allah who hath delivered me from the evil of this night!" Then he busied himself with the service of the church and ceased not busying till day departed and night with darkness starkened when he arose and opened the offertory-chest and took thence of jewels whatso was light of weight and weighty of worth. Then he tarried till the first watch of the night was past, when he made his way to the postern of the tunnel and opening it, went forth, calling on Allah for protection, and ceased not faring on until, after finding and opening the door, he came to the sea. Here he discovered the vessel moored to the shore near the gate; and her skipper, a tall old man of comely aspect with a long beard, standing in the waist, his ten men being ranged before him. Nur al-Din gave him his hand, as Miriam had bidden him, and the captain took it and pulling him on board of the ship cried out to his crew, saying, "Cast off the moorings and put out to sea with us, ere day break." Said one of the ten, "O my lord the Captain, how shall we put out now, when the King hath notified us that to-morrow he will embark in this ship and go round about the sea, being fearful for his daughter Miriam from the Moslem thieves?" But the Rais cried out at them saying, "Woe to you, O accursed; Dare ye gainsay me and bandy words with me?" So saying the old captain bared his blade and with it dealt the sailor who had spoken a thrust in the throat, that the steel came out gleaming from his nape; and quoth another of the sailors, "What hath our comrade done of crime, that thou shouldst cut his throat?" Thereupon the captain clapped hand to sword and smote the speaker's head, nor did he leave smiting the rest of the sailors till he had slain them all, one after other, and cast the ten bodies ashore. Then he turned to Nur al-Din and cried out at him with a terrible great cry, that made him tremble, saying, "Go down and pull up the mooring-satke." Nur al-Din feared lest he should strike him also with the sword; so he sprang up and leapt ashore and pulling up the stake jumped aboard again, swiftlier than the dazzling leven. The captain ceased not to bid him do this and do that and tack and wear hither and thither and look at the stars, and Nur al-Din did all that he bade him, with heart a-quaking for affright; whilst he himself spread the sails, and the ship fared with the twain into the dashing sea, swollen with clashing billows.—And Shahrazad perceived the dawn of day and ceased to say her permitted say.

When it was the Eight Hundred and Eighty-fourth Night,

She continued, It hath reached me, O auspicious King, that when the old skipper had made sail he drave the ship, aided by Nur al-Din, into the dashing sea before a favouring gale. Meanwhile, Nur al-Din held on to the tackle immersed in deep thought, and drowned in the sea of solicitude, knowing not what was hidden for him in the future; and whenever he looked at the captain, his heart quaked and he knew not whither the Rais went with him. He abode thus, preoccupied with care and doubt, till it was high day, when he looked at the skipper and saw him take hold of his long beard and pull at it, whereupon it came off in his hand and Nur al-Din, examining it, saw that it was but a false beard glued on. So he straitly considered that same Rais, and behold, it was the Princess Miriam, his mistress and the dearling of his heart, who had contrived to waylay the captain and slay him and skinned off his beard, which she had stuck on to her own face. At this Nur al-Din was transported for you, and his breast broadened and he marvelled at her prowess and the stoutness of her heart and said to her, "Welcome, O my hope and my desire and the end of mine every wish!" Then love and gladness agitated him and he made sure of winning to his hopes and his expectancy; wherefore he broke out into song and chanted these couplets,

"To all who unknown my love for the May * From whom Fate disjoins me O say, I pray, 'Ask my kith and kin of my love that aye * Ensweetens my verses to lovely lay: For the loss of the tribesmen my life o'er sway!'

Their names when named heal all malady; * Cure and chase from heart every pain I dree: And my longings for love reach so high degree * That my Sprite is maddened each morn I see, And am grown of the crowd to be saw and say.

No blame in them will I e'er espy: * No! nor aught of solace sans them descry: Your love hath shot me with pine, and I * Bear in heart a flame that shall never die, But fire my liver with fiery ray.

All folk my sickness for marvel score * That in darkest night I wake evermore What ails them to torture this heart forlore * And deem right for loving my blood t' outpour: And yet—how justly unjust are they!

Would I wot who 'twas could obtain of you * To wrong a youth who's so fain of you: By my life and by Him who made men of you * And the spy tell aught I complain of you He lies, by Allah, in foulest way!

May the Lord my sickness never dispel, * Nor ever my heart of its pains be well, What day I regret that in love I fell * Or laud any land but wherein ye dwell: Wring my heart and ye will or make glad and gay!

I have vitals shall ever be true to you * Though racked by the rigours not new to you Ere this wrong and this right I but sue to you: * Do what you will to thrall who to you Shall ne'er grudge his life at your feet to lay."

When Nur al-Din ceased to sing, the Princess Miriam marvelled at his song and thanked him therefor, saying, "Whoso's case is thus it behoveth him to walk the ways of men and never do the deed of curs and cowards." Now she was stout of heart and cunning in the sailing of ships over the salt sea, and she knew all the winds and their shiftings and every course of the main. So Nur al-Din said, "O my lady, hadst thou prolonged this case on me,[FN#538] I had surely died for stress of affright and chagrin, more by token of the fire of passion and love-longing and the cruel pangs of separation." She laughed at his speech and rising without stay or delay brought out somewhat of food and liquor; and they ate and drank and enjoyed themselves and made merry. Then she drew forth rubies and other gems and precious stones and costly trinkets of gold and silver and all manner things of price, light of weight and weighty of worth, which she had taken from the palace of her sire and his treasuries, and displayed them to Nur al-Din, who rejoiced therein with joy exceeding. All this while the wind blew fair for them and merrily sailed the ship nor ceased sailing till they drew near the city of Alexandria and sighted its landmarks, old and new, and Pompey's Pillar. When they made the port, Nur al-Din landed forthright and securing the ship to one of the Fulling-Stones,[FN#539] took somewhat of the treasures that Miriam had brought with her, and said to her, "O my lady, tarry in the ship, against I return and carry thee up into the city in such way as I should wish and will." Quoth she, "It behoveth that this be done quickly, for tardiness in affairs engendereth repentance." Quoth he, "There is no tardiness in me;" and, leaving her in the ship, went up into the city to the house of the druggist his father's old fried, to borrow of his wife for Miriam veil and mantilla, and walking boots and petticoat-trousers after the usage of the women of Alexandria, unknowing that there was appointed to betide him of the shifts of Time, the Father of Wonders, that which was far beyond his reckoning. Thus it befel Nur al-Din and Miriam the Girdle-girl; but as regards her sire the King of France, when he arose in the morning, he missed his daughter and questioned her women and her eunuchs of her. Answered they, "O our lord, she went out last night, to go to Church and after that we have no tidings of her." But, as the King talked with them, behold, there arose so great a clamour of cries below the palace, that the place rang thereto, and he said, "What may be the news?" The folk replied, "O King, we have found ten men slain on the sea-shore, and the royal yacht is missing. Moreover we saw the postern of the Church, which giveth upon the tunnel leading to the sea, wide open; and the Moslem prisoner, who served in the Church, is missing." Quoth the King, "An my ship be lost, without doubt or dispute."—And Shahrazad perceived the dawn of day and ceased saying her permitted say.

When it was the Eight Hundred and Eighty-fifth Night,

She pursued, It hath reached me, O auspicious King, that when the King of France missed his daughter they brought him tidings of her, saying, "Thy yacht is lost"; and he replied, "An the craft be lost, without dispute or doubt my daughter is in it." So he summoned without stay or delay the Captain of the Port and cried out at him, saying, "By the virtue[FN#540] of the Messiah and the Faith which is no liar, except thou and thy fighting men overtake my ship forthright and bring it back to me, with those who are therein, I will do thee die the foulest of deaths and make a terrible example of thee!" Thereupon the captain went out from before him, trembling, and betook himself to the ancient dame of the Church, to whom said he, 'Heardest thou aught from the captive, that was with thee, anent his native land and what countryman he was?" And she answered, "He used to say, I come from the town of Alexandria." When the captain heard the old woman's words he returned forthright to the port and cried out to the sailors, "Make ready and set sail." So they did his bidding and straightway putting out to sea, fared night and day till they sighted the city of Alexandria at the very time when Nur al-Din landed, leaving the Princess in the ship. They soon espied the royal yacht and knew her; so they moored their own vessel at a distance therefrom and putting off in a little frigate they had with them, which drew but two cubits of water and in which were an hundred fighting-men, amongst them the one-eyed Wazir (for that he was a stubborn tyrant and a froward devil and a wily thief, none could avail against his craft, as he were Abu Mohammed al-Battal[FN#541]), they ceased not rowing till they reached the bark and boarding her, all at once, found none therein save the Princess Miriam. So they took her and the ship, and returning to their own vessel, after they had landed and waited a long while,[FN#542] set sail forthright for the land of the Franks, having accomplished their errand, without a fight or even drawing sword. The wind blew fair for them and they sailed on, without ceasing and with all diligence, till they reached the city of France and landing with the Princess Miriam carried her to her father, who received her, seated on the throne of his Kingship. As soon as he saw her, he said to her, "Woe to thee, O traitress! What ailed thee to leave the faith of thy fathers and forefathers and the safeguard of the Messiah, on whom is our reliance, and follow after the faith of the Vagrants,[FN#543] to wit, the faith of Al-Islam, the which arose with the sword against the Cross and the Images?" Replied Miriam, "I am not at fault, I went out by night to the church, to visit the Lady Mary and seek a blessing of her, when there fell upon me unawares a band of Moslem robbers, who gagged me and bound me fast and carrying me on board the barque, set sail with me for their own country. However, I beguiled them and talked with them of their religion, till they loosed my bonds; and ere I knew it thy men overtook me and delivered me. And by the virtue of the Messiah and the Faith which is no liar and the Cross and the Crucified thereon, I rejoiced with joy exceeding in my release from them and my bosom broadened and I was glad for my deliverance from the bondage of the Moslems!" Rejoined the King, "Thou liest, O whore! O adultress! By the virtue of that which is revealed of prohibition and permission in the manifest Evangel,[FN#544] I will assuredly do thee die by the foulest of deaths and make thee the vilest of examples! Did it not suffice thee to do as thou didst the first time and put off thy lies upon us, but thou must return upon us with thy deceitful inventions?" Thereupon the King bade kill her and crucify her over the palace gate; but, at that moment the one-eyed Wazir, who had long been enamoured of the Princess, came in to him and said, "Ho King! saly her not, but give her to me to wife, and I will watch over her with the utmost warding, nor will I go in unto her, till I have built her a palace of solid stone, exceeding high of foundation, so no thieves may avail to climb up to its terrace-roof; and when I have made an end of building it, I will sacrifice thirty Moslems before the gate thereof, as an expiatory offering to the Messiah for myself and for her." The King granted his request and bade the priests and monks and patriarchs marry the Princess to him; so they did his bidding, whereupon he bade set about building a strong and lofty palace, befitting her rank and the workmen fell to work upon it. On this wise it betided the Princess Miriam and her sire and the one-eyed Wazir; but as regards Nur al-Din, when he came back with the petticoat-trousers and mantilla and walking boots and all the attire of Alexandrian women which he had borrowed of the druggist's wife, he "found the air void and the fane afar[FN#545]";—And Shahrazad perceived the dawn of day and ceased to say her permitted say.

When it was the Eight Hundred and Eighty-sixth Night,

She resumed, It hath reached me, O auspicious King, that when Nur al-Din, "found the aire void[FN#546] and the fane afar," his heart sank within him and he wept floods of tears and recited these verses,[FN#547]

"The phantom of Soada came by nigh to wake me towards morning while my companions were sleeping in the desert: But when we awoke to behold the nightly phantom, I saw the air vacant, and the place of visitation distant."

Then Nur al-Din walked on along the sea-shore and turned right and left, till he saw folk gathered together on the beach and heard them say, "O Moslems, there remaineth no honour to Alexandria-city, since the Franks enter it and snatch away those who are therein and return to their own land, at their leisure[FN#548] nor pursued of any of the Moslems or fighters for the Faith!" Quoth Nur al-Din to them, "What is to do?"; and quoth they, "O my son, one of the ships of the Franks, full of armed men, came down but now upon the port and carried off a ship which was moored here, with her that was therein, and made unmolested for their own land." Nur al-Din fell down a-swoon, on hearing these words; and when he recovered they questioned him of his case and he told them all that had befallen him first and last; whereupon they all took to reviling him and railing at him, saying, "Why couldst thou not bring her up into the town without mantilla and muffler?" And all and each of the folk gave him some grievous word, berating him with sharp speech, and shooting at him some shaft or reproach, albeit one said, "Let him be; that which hath befallen him sufficeth him," till he again fell down in a fainting-fit. And behold, at this moment, up came the old druggist, who, seeing the folk gathered together, drew near to learn what was the matter and found Nur al-Din lying a-swoon in their midst. So he sat down at his head and arousing him, said to him as soon as he recovered, "O my son, what is this case in which I see thee?" Nur al-Din said, "O uncle, I had brought back in a barque my lost slave-girl from her father's city, suffering patiently all I suffered of perils and hardships; and when I came with her to this port, I made the vessel fast to the shore and leaving her therein, repaired to thy dwelling and took of thy consort what was needful for her, that I might bring her up into the town; but the Franks came and capturing barque and damsel made off unhindered, and returned to their own land." Now when the Shaykh, the druggist, heard this, the light in his eyes became night and he grieved with sore grieving for Nur al-Din and said to him, "O my son, why didst thou not bring her out of the ship into the city without mantilla? But speech availeth not at this season; so rise, O my son, and come up with me to the city; haply Allah will vouchsafe thee a girl fairer than she, who shall console thee for her. Alhamdolillah-praised be Allah-who hath not made thee lose aught by her! Nay, thou hast gained by her. And bethink thee, O my son, that Union and Disunion are in the hands of the Most High King.." Replied Nur al-Din, "By Allah, O uncle, I can never be consoled for her loss nor will I ever leave seeking her, though on her account I drink the cup of death!" Rejoined the druggist, "O my son, and what art thou minded to do?" Quoth Nur al-Din, "I am minded to return to the land of the Franks[FN#549] and enter the city of France and emperil myself there; come what may, loss of life or gain of life." Quoth the druggist, "O my son, there is an old saw, 'Not always doth the crock escape the shock'; and if they did thee no hurt the first time, belike they will slay thee this time, more by token that they know thee now with full knowledge." Quoth Nur al-Din, "O my uncle, let me set out and be slain for the love of her straightway and not die of despair for her loss by slow torments." Now as Fate determined there was then a ship in port ready to sail, for its passengers had made an end of their affairs[FN#550] and the sailors had pulled up the mooring-stakes, when Nur al-Din embarked in her. So they shook out their canvas and relying on the Compassionate, put out to sea and sailed many days, with fair wind and weather, till behold, they fell in with certain of the Frank cruisers, which were scouring those waters and seizing upon all ships they saw, in their fear for the King's daughter from the Moslem corsairs: and as often as they made prize of a Moslem ship, they carried all her people to the King of France, who put them to death in fulfilment of the vow he had vowed on account of his daughter Miriam. So, seeing the ship wherein was Nur al-Din they boarded her and taking him and the rest of the company prisoners, to the number of an hundred Moslems, carried them to the King and set them between his hands. He bade cut their throats. Accordingly they slaughtered them all forthwith, one after another, till there was none left but Nur al-Din, whom the headsman had left to the last, in pity of his tender age and slender shape. When the King saw him, he knew him right well and said to him, "Art thou not Nur al-Din, who was with us before?" Said he, "I was never with thee: and my name is not Nur al-Din, but Ibrahim." Rejoined the King; "Thou liest, thou art Nur al-Din, he whom I gave to the ancient dame the Prioress, to help her in the service of the church." But Nur al-Din replied, "O my lord, my name is Ibrahim." Quoth the King, "Wait a while," and bade his knights fetch the old woman forthright, saying, "When she cometh and seeth thee, she will know an thou be Nur al-Din or not." At this juncture, behold, in came the one-eyed Wazir who had married the Princess and kissing the earth before the King said to him, "Know, O King, that the palace is finished; and thou knowest how I vowed to the Messiah that, when I had made an end of building it, I would cut thirty Moslems' throats before its doors; wherefore I am come to take them of thee, that I may sacrifice them and so fulfil my vow to the Messiah. They shall be at my charge, by way of loan, and whenas there come prisoners to my hands, I will give thee other thirty in lieu of them." Replied the King, 'By the virtue of the Messiah and the Faith which is no liar, I have but this one captive left!" And he pointed to Nur al-Din, saying, "Take him and slaughter him at this very moment and the rest I will send thee when there come to my hands other prisoners of the Moslems." Thereupon the one-eyed Wazir arose and took Nur al-Din and carried him to his palace, thinking to slaughter him on the threshold of the gate; but the painters said to him, "O my lord, we have two days' painting yet to do: so bear with us and delay to cut the throat of this captive, till we have made an end of our work; haply by that time the rest of the thirty will come, so thou mayst despatch them all at one bout and accomplish thy vow in a single day." Thereupon the Wazir bade imprison Nur al-Din.—And Shahrazad perceived the dawn of day and ceased saying her permitted say.

When it was the Eight Hundred and Eighty-seventh Night,

She said, It hath reached me, O auspicious King, that when the Wazir bade imprison Nur al-Din, they carried him to the stables and left him there in chains, hungering and thirsting and making moan for himself; for indeed he saw death face to face. Now it fortuned, by the ordinance of Destiny and fore-ordained Fate, that the King had two stallions, own brothers,[FN#551] such as the Chosroe Kings might sigh in vain to possess themselves of one of them; they were called Sabik and Lahik[FN#552] and one of them was pure silvern white while the other was black as the darksome night. And all the Kings of the isles had said, "Whoso stealeth us one of these stallions, we will give him all he seeketh of red gold and pearls and gems;" but none could avail to steal them. Now one of them fell sick of a jaundice and there came a whiteness over his eyes;[FN#553] whereupon the King gathered together all the farriers in the city to treat him; but they all failed of his cure. Presently the Wazir came into the King; and finding him troubled because of the horse, thought to do away his concern and said to him, "O King, give me the stallion and I will cure him," The King consented and caused carry the horse to the stable wherein Nur al-Din lay chained; but, when he missed his brother, he cried out with an exceeding great cry and neighed, so that he affrighted all the folk. The Wazir, seeing that he did thus but because he was parted from his brother, went to tell the King, who said, "If this, which is but a beast, cannot brook to be parted from his brother, how should it be with those that have reason?" And he bade his grooms take the other horse and put him with his brother in the Wazir's stables, saying, "Tell the Minister that the two stallions be a gift from me to him, for the sake of my daughter Miriam." Nur al-Din was lying in the stable, chained and shackled, when they brought in the two stallions and he saw that one of them had a film over his eyes. Now he had some knowledge of horses and of the doctoring of their diseases; so he said to himself, "This by Allah is my opportunity! I will go to the Wazir and lie to him, saying, 'I will heal thee this horse': then will I do with him somewhat that shall destroy his eyes, and he will slay me and I shall be at rest from this woe-full life." So he waited till the Wazir entered the stable, to look upon the steed, and said to him, "O my lord, what will be my due, an I heal this horse, and make his eyes whole again?" Replied the Wazir, "As my head liveth, an thou cure him, I will spare thy life and give thee leave to crave a boon of me!" And Nur al-Din said, "O my lord, bid my hands be unbound!" So the Wazir bade unbind him and he rose and taking virgin glass,[FN#554] brayed it and mixed it with unslaked lime and a menstruum of onion-juice. Then he applied the whole to the horse's eyes and bound them up, saying in himself, "Now will his eyes be put out and they will slay me and I shall be at rest from this woe-full life." Then he passed the night with a heart free from the uncertainty[FN#555] of cark and care, humbling himself to Allah the Most High and saying, "O Lord, in Thy knowledge is that which dispenseth with asking and craving!" Now when the morning morrowed and the sun shone, the Wazir came to the stable and, loosing the bandage from the horse's eyes considered them and found them finer than before, by the ordinance of the King who openeth evermore. So he said to Nur al-Din, "O Moslem, never in the world saw I the like of thee for the excellence of thy knowledge. By the virtue of the Messiah and the Faith which is no liar, thou makest me with wonder to admire, for all the farriers of our land have failed to heal this horse!" Then he went up to Nur al-Din and, doing off his shackles with his own hand, clad him in a costly dress and made him his master of the Horse; and he appointed him stipends and allowances and lodged him in a story over the stables. So Nur al-Din abode awhile, eating and drinking and making merry and bidding and forbidding those who tended the horses; and whoso neglected or failed to fodder those tied up in the stable wherein was his service, he would thrown down and beat with grievous beating and lay him by the legs in bilboes of iron. Furthermore, he used every day to descend and visit the stallions and rub them down with his own hand, by reason of that which he knew of their value in the Wazir's eyes and his love for them; wherefore the Minister rejoiced in him with joy exceeding and his breast broadened and he was right glad, unknowing what was to be the issue of his case. Now in the new palace, which the one-eyed Wazir had bought for Princess Miriam, was a lattice-window overlooking his old house and the flat wherein Nur al-Din lodged. The Wazir had a daughter, a virgin of extreme loveliness, as she were a fleeing gazelle or a bending branchlet, and it chanced that she sat one day at the lattice aforesaid and behold, she heard Nur al-Din, singing and solacing himself under his sorrows by improvising these verses,

"O my Censor who wakest a-morn to see * The joys of life and its jubilee! Had the fangs of Destiny bitten thee * In such bitter case thou hadst pled this plea, 'Ah me, for Love and his case, ah me: My heart is burnt by the fires I dree!' But from Fate's despight thou art safe this day;- * From her falsest fay and her crying 'Nay!' Yet blame him not whom his woes waylay * Who distraught shall say in his agony, 'Ah me, for Love and his case, ah me: My heart is burnt by the fires I dree!' Excuse such lovers in flight abhorr'd * Nor to Love's distreses thine aid afford: Lest thy self be bound by same binding cord * And drink of Love's bitterest injury. 'Ah me, for Love and his case, ah me: My heart is burnt by the fires I dree!' In His service I wont as the days went by * With freest heart through the nights to lie; Nor tasted wake, nor of Love aught reckt * Ere my heart to subjection summoned he: 'Ah me, for Love and his case, ah me: My heart is burnt by the fires I dree!' None weet of Love and his humbling wrong * Save those he sickened so sore, so long, Who have lost their wits 'mid the lover-throng * Draining bitterest cup by his hard decree: 'Ah me, for Love and his case, ah me: My heart is burnt by the fires I dree!' How oft in Night's gloom he cause wake to rue * Lovers' eyne, and from eyelids their sleep withdrew; Till tears to the railing of torrents grew, * Overflowing cheeks , unconfined and free: 'Ah me, for Love and his case, ah me: My heart is burnt by the fires I dree!' How many a man he has joyed to steep * In pain, and for pine hath he plundered sleep,— Made don garb of mourning the deepest deep * And even his dreaming forced to flee: 'Ah me, for Love and his case, ah me: My heart is burnt by the fires I dree!' How oft sufferance fails me! How bones are wasted * And down my cheeks torrent tear-drops hasted: And embittered She all the food I tasted * However sweet it was wont to be: 'Ah me, for Love and his case, ah me: My heart is burnt by the fires I dree!' Most hapless of men who like me must love, * And must watch when Night droops her wing from above, Who, swimming the main where affection drove * Must sign and sink in that gloomy sea: 'Ah me, for Love and his case, ah me: My heart is burnt by the fires I dree!' Who is he to whom Love e'er stinted spite * And who scaped his springes and easy sleight; Who free from Love lived in life's delight? * Where is he can boast of such liberty? 'Ah me, for Love and his case, ah me: My heart is burnt by the fires I dree!' Deign Lord such suffering wight maintain * Then best Protector, protect him deign! Establish him and his life assain * And defend him from all calamity: 'Ah me, for Love and his case, ah me: My heart is burnt by the fires I dree!'"

And when Nur al-Din ended his say and ceased to sing his rhyming lay, the Wazir's daughter said to herself, "By the virtue of the Messiah and the Faith which is no liar, verily this Moslem is a handsome youth! But doubtless he is a lover separated from his mistress. Would Heaven I wot an the beloved of this fair one is fair like unto him and if she pine for him as he for her! An she be seemly as he is, it behoveth him to pour forth tears and make moan of passion; but, an she be other than fair, his days are wasted in vain regrets and he is denied the taste of delights."—And Shahrazad perceived the dawn of day and ceased to say her permitted say.

When it was the Eight Hundred and Eighty-eighth Night,

She continued, It hath reached me, O auspicious King, that the Wazir's daughter said to herself, "An his beloved be fair as he, it behoveth him to pour forth tears; and, if other than fair, his heart is wasted in vain regrets!" Now Miriam the Girdle-girl, the Minister's consort, had removed to the new palace the day before and the Wazir's daughter knew that she was straitened of breast; so she was minded to seek her and talk with her and tell her the tidings of the young man and the rhymes and verses she had heard him recite; but, before she could carry out her design the Princess sent for her to cheer her with her converse. So she went to her and found her heavy at heart and her tears hurrying down her cheeks; and whilst she was weeping with sore weeping she recited these couplets,

"My life is gone but love-longings remain * And my breast is straitened with pine and pain: And my heart for parting to melt is fain * Yet hoping that union will come again, And join us in one who now are twain. Stint your blame to him who in heart's your thrall * With the wasted frame which his sorrows gall, Nor with aim of arrow his heart appal * For parted lover is saddest of all, And Love's cup of bitters is sweet to drain!"