Chapter XXI: Part 21

I was swallowed up with mortal grief before I received your letter, at the sight of which I was transported with unspeakable joy; and the view of the characters written by your lovely hand enlightened my eyes more sensibly than they were darkened when yours were closed on a sudden at the feet of my rival. Those words which your courteous letter contains, are so many rays of light, which have dispelled the darkness with which my soul was obscured; they show me how much you suffer by your love to me, and that you are not ignorant of what I endure for you, and thereby comfort me in my afflictions. On the one hand, they make me shed tears in abundance; and, on the other, they inflame my heart--with a fire which supports it, and hinders my dying of grief. I have not had one moment's rest since our cruel separation. Your letter only gave me some ease. I kept a sorrowful silence till the moment I received it, and then it restored me to speech. I was buried in a profound melancholy, but it inspired me with joy, which immediately appeared in my eyes and countenance. But my surprise at receiving a favour which I had not deserved was so great, that I knew not which way to begin to testify my thankfulness for it. In a word, after having kissed it as a valuable pledge of your goodness, I read it over and over, and was confounded at the excess of my good fortune. You would have me to signify to you that I always love you. Ah! though I did not love you so perfectly as I do, I could not forbear adoring you, after all the marks you have given me of a love so uncommon: yes, I love you, my dear soul, and shall account it my glory to burn all my days with that sweet fire you have kindled in my heart. I will never complain of the brisk ardour with which I find it consumes me; and how rigorous soever the grief be which I suffer, I will bear it corageously, in hopes to see you some time or other. Would to Heaven it were today; and that, instead of sending you my letter, I might be allowed to come and assure you that I die for love of you! My tears hinder me from saying any more. Adieu.

Ebn Thaher could not read these last lines without weeping. He returned the letter to the prince of Persia, and assured him it wanted no correction. The prince shut it, and when he had sealed it, desired the trusty slave to come near, and told her, This is my answer to your dear mistress; I conjure you to carry it to her, and to salute her in my name. The slave took the letter, and retired with Ebn Thaher.

After Ebn Thaher had walked some way with the slave, he left her, went to his house, and began to think in earnest upon the amorous intrigue in which he found himself unhappily engaged. He considered that the prince of Persia and Schemselnihar, notwithstanding their interest to conceal their correspondence, managed with so little discretion, that it could not be long a secret. He drew all the consequences from it which a man of good sense ought to do. Were Schemselnihar, said he to himself, an ordinary lady, I would contribute all in my power to make her and her sweetheart happy; but she is the caliph's favourite, and no man can without danger undertake to displease him. His anger will fall at first upon Schemselnihar; it will cost the prince of Persia his life; and I shall be embarked in his misfortune. In the mean time, I have my honour, my quiet, my family, and my estate to preserve; I must then, while I can, deliver myself out of so great a danger.

He was taken up with these thoughts all the day; next morning he went to the prince of Persia, with a design to use his utmost endeavors to oblige him to conquer his passion. He actually represented to him what he had formerly done in vain; that it would be much better to make use of all his courage to overcome his inclinations for Schemselnihar, than to suffer himself to be conquered by it; and that his passion was so much the more dangerous, as his rival was the more potent. In a word, sir, added he, if you will hearken to me, you ought to think of nothing but to triumph over your amour, otherwise you run a risk of destroying yourself, with Schemselnihar, whose life ought to be dearer to you than your own. I give you this counsel as a friend, for which you will thank me some time or other.

The prince heard Ebn Thaher with a great deal of impatience, but suffered him, however, to speak out his mind; and then replied to him thus: Ebn Thaher, said he, do you think I can forbear to love Schemselnihar, who loves me so tenderly? She is not afraid to expose her life for me, and would you have me to regard mine? No; whatever misfortune befal me, I will love Schemselnihar to my last breath.

Ebn Thaher, being offended at the obstinacy of the prince of Persia, left him hastily; and, going to his own house, recalled to mind what he thought on the other day, and began to think in earnest what he should do. At the same time a jeweller, one of his intimate friends, came to see him: this jeweller had perceived that Schemselnihar's confident came oftener to Ebn Thaher than usual, and that he was constantly with the prince of Persia, whose sickness was known to every one, though not the cause of it. The jeweller began to be suspicious, and finding Ebn Thaher very pensive, judged presently that he was perplexed with some important affair; and fancying that he knew the cause, he asked what Schemselniliar's confident wanted with him. Ebn Thaher, being struck with this question, dissembled, and told him, that it was a mere trifle that brought her so frequently to him. You do not tell me the truth, said the jeweller, and give me ground to think, by your dissimulation, that this trifle is an affair of more importance than at first I thought. Ebn Thaher, perceiving that his friend pressed him so much, said to him, It is true that it is an affair of the greatest consequence: I had resolved to keep it secret; but since I know how much you are my friend, I choose rather to make you my confident, than to suffer you to be in a mistake about it. I do not recommend it to you to keep the secret, for you will easily judge, by what I am going to tell you, how important it is to keep it. After this preamble, he told him the amour between Schemselnihar and the prince of Persia. You know, continued he, in what esteem I am at court, in the city, and with lords and ladies of the greatest quality; what a disgrace would it be for me, should this rash intrigue come to be discovered? But what do I say? Should not I and my family be quite destroyed? That is the thing perplexes my mind. But I have just now come to such a resolution as I ought to make: I will go immediately and satisfy my creditors, and recover my debts; when I have secured my estate, I will retire to Balsora, and stay till the tempest I foresee blows over. The friendship I have for Schemselnihar and the prince of Persia makes me very sensible to what danger they are exposed. I pray Heaven to discover it to themselves, and to preserve them; but if their ill destiny will have their amours come to the knowledge of the caliph, I shall at least be out of the reach of his resentment; for I do not think them so wicked as to design to draw me into their misfortunes. It would be extreme ingratitude in them to do so, and a sorry reward for the good service I have done them, particularly to the prince of Persia, who may save himself and his mistress from this precipice, if he pleases: he may as easily leave Bagdad as I; absence would insensibly disengage him from a passion which will only increase whilst he continues in this place.

The jeweller was extremely surprised at what Ebn Thaher told him. What you say to me, said he, is of so great importance, that I cannot understand how Schemselnihar and the prince have been capable of abandoning themselves to such a violent amour. What inclination soever they may have for one another, instead of yielding to it, they ought to resist it, and make a better use of their reason. Is it possible they can be insensible of the dangerous consequences of their correspondence? How deplorable is their blindness! I perceive all the consequences of it as well as you; but you are wise and prudent, and I approve your resolution; that is the only way to deliver yourself from the fatal events which you have reason to fear. The jeweller then rose, and took his leave of Ebn Thaher.

Before the jeweller retired, Ebn Thaher conjured him, by the friendship betwixt them, to speak nothing of this to any person. Be not afraid, said the jeweller; I will keep this secret on peril of my life.

Two days after, the jeweller went to Ebn Thaher's shop; and, seeing it shut, doubted not that he had executed the design he had spoken of; but, to be certain, he asked a neighbour if he knew why it was shut? The neighbour answered, that he knew not, unless Ebn Thaher was gone a journey. There was no need of his inquiring further, and immediately he thought upon the prince of Persia: Unhappy prince, said he to himself, what grief will you suffer when you hear this news? By what means will you now carry on your correspondence with Schemselnihar? I fear you will die of despair. I have compassion on you; I must make up the loss that you have of a too timid confident.

The business that obliged him to come abroad was of no consequence, so that he neglected it; and though he did not know the prince of Persia, but only by having sold him some jewels, he went strait to his house, addressed himself to one of his servants, and prayed him to tell his master that he desired to speak with him about business of very great importance. The servant returned immediately to the jeweller, and introduced him to the chamber of the prince, who was leaning on a sofa, with his head upon a cushion. As soon as the prince saw him, he rose to receive him, said he was welcome, entreated him to sit down, and asked if he could serve him in any thing, or if he came to tell him any matter concerning himself. Prince, answered the jeweller, though I have not the honour to be particularly acquainted with you, yet the desire of testifying my zeal has made me take the liberty to come to your house, to impart to you some news that concerns you. I hope you will pardon my boldness, because of my good intention.

After this introduction, the jeweller entered upon the matter, and pursued it thus: Prince, I shall have the honour to tell you, that it is a long time since the conformity of humour, and several affairs we had together, united Ebn Thaher and myself in strict friendship. I know you are acquainted with him, and that he has been employed in obliging you in all that he could. I am informed of this from himself; for he keeps nothing secret from me, nor I from him. I went just now to his shop, and was surprised to find it shut. I addressed myself to one of his neighbours, to ask the reason; he answered me, that, two days ago, Ebn Thater took his leave of him and other neighbours, offering them his service at Balsora, whither he was gone, he said, about an affair of great importance. Not being satisfied with this answer, the concern that I have for whatever belongs to him, determined me to come and ask you if you knew any thing particularly concerning his sudden departure.

At this discourse, which the jeweller accommodated to the subject, that he might come the better to his design, the prince of Persia changed colour, and looked so as made the jeweller sensible that he was afflicted with the news. I am surprised at what you inform me, said he; there could not befal me a greater misfortune. Ah! said he, with tears in his eyes, I am undone if what you tell me be true! Has Ebn Thaher, who was all my comfort, and in whom I put all my confidence, left me! I cannot think of living after so cruel a blow.

The jeweller needed no more to convince him fully of the prince of Persia's violent passion, which Ebn Thaher had told him: mere friendship would not let him speak so; nothing but love could produce such feeling expressions.

The prince continued some moments swallowed up with these melancholy thoughts: at last he lifted up his head, and calling one of his servants, Go, said he, to Ebn Timber's house, and ask any of his domestics if he be gone to Balsora; run and come back quickly, and tell me what you hear. While the servant was gone, the jeweller endeavoured to entertain the prince of Persia with indifferent subjects; but the prince gave little heed to him, for he was a prey to fatal grief. Sometimes he could not persuade himself that Ebn Thaher was gone; at other times he did not doubt the truth of it, when he reflected upon the discourse he had the last time he saw him, and the angry countenance with which he left him.

At last the prince's servant returned, and reported that he had spoken to one of Ebn Thaher servants, who assured him that he was gone two days before to Balsora. As I came from Ebn Thaher's house, added the servant, a slave well arrayed came to me, and, asking if I had the honour to belong to you, she told me she wanted to speak with you, begging, at the same time, that she might come along with me: she is now in the house, and I believe has a letter to give you from some person of note. The prince commanded him to bring her in immediately: he doubted not but it was Schemselnihar's confident slave, as indeed it was. The jeweller knew who she was, having seen her several times at Ebn Thaher's house. She could not have come at a better time to hinder the prince from despair.

She saluted him, and the prince of Persia did likewise salute Schemselnihar's confident. The jeweller rose as soon as he saw her appear, and stepped aside, to leave them at liberty to speak together. The confident, after conversing some time with the prince, took leave, and departed. She left him quite another thing than before; his eyes appeared brighter, and his countenance more gay; which made the jeweller know that the good slave came to tell him some news that favoured his amour.

The jeweller having taken his place again near the prince, said to him, smiling, I see, prince, you have important affairs at the caliph's palace. The prince of Persia was astonished and alarmed at this discourse, and answered the jeweller, why do you judge that I have affairs at the caliph's palace? I judge, replied the jeweller, by the slave that is gone forth. To whom, think you, belongs this slave? said the prince. To Schemselnihar, the caliph's favourite, answered the jeweller. I know, continued he, both the slave and her mistress, who have several times done me the honour to come to my house, and buy jewels. Besides, I know that Schemselnihar keeps nothing secret from this slave; and I have seen her go and come for several days along the streets, very much troubled, which made me imagine that it was upon some affair of consequence concerning her mistress.

The jeweller's words did much trouble the prince of Persia. He would not say so, said he to himself, if he did not suspect, or rather know, my secret. He remained silent for some time, not knowing what to answer. At length he said to the jeweller, You have told me those things which make me believe that you know yet more than you have acquainted me with. It will tend much to my quiet if I be perfectly informed; I conjure you, therefore, not to dissemble.

Then the jeweller, who desired no better, gave him a particular account of what had passed between Ebn Thaher and himself; so that he let him know that he was informed of his correspondence with Schemselnihar; and forgot not to tell him that Ebn Thaher was afraid of the danger of being his confident in the matter, which was partly the occasion of his retiring to Balsora, to stay till the storm which he feared should he over. This he has done, added the jeweller; and I am surprised how he could determine to abandon you in the condition he informed me you was in. As for me, prince, I confess I am moved with compassion towards you, and am come to offer you my service; and if you do me the favour to accept of it, I engage myself to be as faithful to you as Ebn Thaher; besides, I promise to be more constant, I am ready to sacrifice my honour and life for you; and, in fine, that you may not doubt my sincerity, I swear, by all that is sacred in our religion, to keep your secret inviolable! Be persuaded, then, that you will find in me the friend that you have lost. This discourse encouraged the prince, and comforted him under Ebn Thaher's absence. I am very glad, said he to the jeweller, to find in you a reparation of my loss: I want words to express the obligations I am under to you. I pray God to recompense your generosity; and I accept your obliging offer with all my heart. Believe it, continued he, that Schemselnihar's confident came to speak to me concerning you; she told me that it was you who advised Ebn Thaher to go from Bagdad; these were the last words she spoke to me when she went away, and had almost persuaded me of it. But do not resent it; for I doubt not but she is deceived, after what you have told me. Prince, replied the jeweller, I have had the honour to give you a faithful account of my conversation with Ebn Thaher. It is true, when he told me he would return to Balsora, I did not oppose his design, but said he was a wise and prudent man; and, that this may not hinder you from putting confidence in me, I am ready to serve you with all imaginable zeal; which though you do otherwise, this shall not hinder me from keeping your secret religiously according to my oath. I have already told you, replied the prince, that I would not believe what the confident said; it is her zeal that inspired her with this groundless suspicion, and you ought to excuse it, as I do.

They continued their conversation for some time, and consulted together of convenient means to continue the prince's correspondence with Schemselnihar: they agreed to begin by disabusing the confident, who was so unjustly prepossessed against the jeweller. The prince engaged to undeceive her the first time she returned, and to entreat her to engage herself to the jeweller, that she might bring the letters, or any other information, from her mistress to him. In fine, they agreed that she ought not to come so frequently to the prince's house, because she might thereby give occasion to discover that which was of so great importance to conceal. At last the jeweller rose, and, after having again prayed the prince of Persia to have an entire confidence in him, retired.

The jeweller, returning to his house, perceived before him a letter which somebody had dropped in the street; he took it up; and, not being sealed, he opened it, and found that it contained as follows:

Letter from Schemselnihar to the Prince of Persia.

I am informed by my confident of a piece of news which troubles me no less than it does you: By losing Ebn Thaher, we have indeed lost much; but let this not hinder you, dear prince, thinking to preserve yourself. If our confident has abandoned us through a slavish fear, let us consider that it is a misfortune which we could not avoid. I confess Ebn Thaher has left us at a time when we need him most; but let us fortify ourselves by patience against this unlooked-for accident, and let us not forbear to love one another constantly. Fortify your heart against this misfortune. Nobody can obtain what they desire without trouble. Let us not discourage ourselves, but hope that Heaven will favour us; and that, after so many afflictions, we shall come to a happy accomplishment of our desires. Adieu.

While the jeweller was conversing with the prince of Persia, the confident had time to return to the palace, and tell her mistress the ill news of Ebn Thaher's departure. Schemselniliar immediately wrote this letter, and sent back her confident with it to the prince of Persia; but she negligently dropped it.

The jeweller was glad to find it; for it was a good way to set him right with the confident, and bring him to the point he desired. When he had read it, he perceived the slave, who sought it with a great deal of uneasiness, looking about every where. He closed it again quickly, and put it into his bosom; but the slave took notice of it, and ran to him. Sir, said she, I have dropped a letter which you had just now in your hand; I beseech you be pleased to restore it. The jeweller, taking no notice that he heard her, continued his way till he came to his house. He did not shut the door behind him, that the confident, who followed him, might come in. She accordingly did so; and when she came to his chamber, Sir, said she to him, you can make no use of the letter you have found; and you would make no difficulty in returning it to me, if you knew from whom it came, and to whom it is directed. Besides, let me tell you, you cannot honestly keep it.

Before the jeweller answered the confident, he made her sit down, and said to her, Is not this letter from Schemselnihar, and directed to the prince of Persia? The slave, who expected no such question, blushed. The question puzzles you, replied he, but I assure you I do not propose it rashly: I could have given you the letter in the street, but I suffered you to follow me, on purpose that I might discourse with you. Tell me, is it just to impute an unhappy accident to people who no ways contributed towards it? Yet this you have done, in telling the prince of Persia that it was I who counselled Ebn Thaher to leave Bagdad for his own safety. I do not intend to lose time in justifying myself to you; it is enough that the prince of Persia is fully persuaded of my innocence in this matter: I will only tell you, that instead of contributing to Ebn Thaher's departure, I have been extremely afflicted at it; not so much for my friendship to him, as out of compassion for the condition in which he left the prince of Persia, whose correspondence with Schemselnihar he has acknowledged to me. As soon as I knew certainly that Ebn Thaher was gone from Bagdad, I presented myself to the prince, in whose house you found me, to inform him of this news, and to offer him the same service which he did him; and, provided you put the same confidence in me that you did in Ebn Thaher, you may serve yourself by my assistance. Inform your mistress of what I have told you, and assure her, that if I should die for engaging in so dangerous an intrigue, I will rejoice to have sacrificed myself for two lovers so worthy of each other.

The confident, after having heard the jeweller with great satisfaction, begged him to pardon her the ill opinion she had conceived of him, out of the zeal she had for her mistress. I am extremely glad, added she, that Schemselnihar and the prince have found you, who are a man fit to supply Ebn Thaher's place, and I shall not fail to signify to my mistress the good-will you bear her. After the confident had testified to the jeweller her joy to see him so well disposed to serve Schemselnihar and the prince of Persia, the jeweller took the letter out of his bosom, and restored it to her, saying, Go, carry it quickly to the prince of Persia, and come back this way, that I may see the answer. Forget not to give him an account of our conversation.

The confident took the letter, and carried it to the prince, who answered it immediately. She returned to the jeweller's house to show him the answer, which was this:

The Prince of Persia's Answer to Schemselniliar.

Your precious letter had a great effect upon me, but not so great as I could wish. You endeavour to comfort me for the loss of Ebn Thaher; but, alas! sensible as I am of this, it is the least of my troubles! You know my malady, and that your presence only can cure me. When will the time come that I shall enjoy it without fear of being ever deprived of it? O how long does it seem to me! But shall we rather flatter ourselves that we may see one another? You command me to preserve myself; I will obey, since I have renounced my own will to follow yours. Adieu.

After the jeweller had read this letter, he gave it again to the confident, who said, when she was going away, I will tell my mistress to put the same confidence in you that she did in Ebn Thaher, and you shall hear of me to-morrow. Accordingly, next day she returned with a pleasant countenance. Your very look, said he to her, informs me that you have brought Schemselnihar to what you wished. That is true, said the confident, sand you shall hear how I effected it. Yesterday, continued she, I found Schemselnihar expecting me with impatience; I gave her the prince of Persia's letter, which she read with tears in her eyes; and when she had done, I observed she had abandoned herself to her usual sorrow. Madam, said I, it is doubtless Ebn Thaher's removal that troubles you; but suffer me to conjure you, in the name of God, not to concern yourself any further about that matter. We have found another who offers to oblige you with as much zeal, and, what is yet more important, with greater courage. Then I mentioned you, continued the slave, and acquainted her with the motive which made you go to the prince of Persia's house. In short, I assured her that you would inviolably keep the secret betwixt her and the prince of Persia, and that you was* resolved to favour their amours with all your might. She seemed to me much relieved by my discourse. Ah! what obligations, said she, are the prince of Persia and I under to that honest man you speak of? I must see him, that I may hear from his own mouth what you tell me, and thank him for such an unheard-of piece of generosity towards persons with whom he is no way obliged to concern himself. A sight of him will please me; and I will not omit any thing to confirm him in those good sentiments. Do not fail to bring him to-morrow. Therefore, pray, sir, go with me lo the palace.

The confident's discourse perplexed the jeweller. Your mistress, replied he, must allow me to say, that she has not thought well of what she requires. Ebn Thaher's access to the caliph gave him admission every where; and the officers, who knew him, suffered him to go and come freely to Schemselnihar's palace; but, as for me, how dare I enter? You see well enough that it is not possible. I entreat you to represent those reasons to Schemselnihar which hinder me giving her that satisfaction, and acquaint her with all the ill consequences that would result from it. If she considers it ever so little, she will find that it would expose me needlessly to very great danger.

The confident endeavoured to encourage the jeweller: Believe me, said he, that Schemselnihar is not so unreasonable as to expose you to the least danger, from whom she expects such considerable services. Consider with yourself that there is not the least appearance of hazard: my mistress and I are too much interested in this affair to involve you in any danger. You may depend upon me, and leave yourself to my conduct. After the affair is over, you will confess to me that your fear was groundless.

The jeweller hearkened to the confident's discourse, and got up to follow her; but, notwithstanding his natural courage, he was seized with such terror that his whole body trembled. In the condition you are in, said she, I perceive it will be better for you to stay at home, and that Schemselnihar take other measures to see you. It is not to be doubted but that, to satisfy her desire, she will come hither herself. The case being so, sir, I would not have you to go, as I am persuaded it will not be long before she comes to you. The confident foresaw this very well; for she no sooner informed Schemselnihar of the jeweller's fear, than she made ready to go to his house.

He received her with all the marks of profound respect. When she sat down, being a little fatigued with walking, she unveiled herself, and discovered to the jeweller such beauty as made him acknowledge that the prince of Persia was excusable in giving his heart to her. Then she saluted the jeweller with a graceful countenance, and said to him, I am informed with what zeal you have engaged in the prince of Persia's concerns and mine; but, without immediately forming a design to express my gratitude, I thank Heaven, which has so soon made up Ebn Thaher's loss.

Schemselnihar said several other obliging things to the jeweller, after which she returned to her palace. The jeweller went immediately to give an account of this visit to the prince of Persia, who said to him, as soon as he saw him, I have expected you impatiently. The trusty slave has brought me a letter from her mistress, but she does not comfort me: whatever the lovely Schemselnihar says, I dare not hope for any thing; my patience is at an end; I know not now what measures to take. Ebn Thaher's departure makes me despair; he was my only support; I lost all by losing him, for I flattered myself with some hopes by reason of his access to Schemselnihar.

After these words, which the prince pronounced with so much eagerness that he gave the jeweller no time to interrupt him, he said to the prince, No man can bear a greater share of your affliction than I do; and if you will have patience to hear me, you will perceive that I am capable of giving you ease. Upon this the prince became silent, and hearkened to him. I see very well, said the jeweller, that the only thing to give you satisfaction is to fall upon a way that you may converse freely with Schemselnihar. This I will procure you, and to-morrow will set about it. You must by no means expose yourself to enter Schemselnihar's palace; you know by experience the danger of that: I know a very fit place for this interview, where you shall be safe. When the jeweller had spoken thus, the prince embraced him with a transport of joy. You revive, said he, by this charming promise, an unhappy lover who was resolved to die; I see that you have fully repaired the loss of Ebn Thaher: whatever you do will be well done; I leave myself entirely to you.

The prince, after thanking the jeweller for his zeal, returned home, and next morning Schemselnihar's confident came to him. He told her that he had put the prince of Persia in hopes that he should see Schemselnihar speedily. I am come purposely, answered she, to take measures with you for that end. I think, continued she, this house will be convenient enough for their interview. I could receive them very well here, replied he; but I think they will have more liberty in another house of mine, where nobody lives at present; I will quickly furnish it for receiving them. Since the matter is so, replied the confident, there remains nothing for me to do but to make Sehemselnihar consent to it. I will go tell her, and return speedily with an answer.

She was as diligent as her promise; and, returning to the jeweller, told him that her mistress would not fail to keep the appointment in the evening. In the mean time she gave him a purse of money to prepare a collation. He sent her immediately to the house where the lovers were to meet, that she might know whither to bring her mistress; and when she was gone, he went to borrow from his friends vessels of gold and silver, tapestry, rich cushions, and other furniture, with which he furnished the house very magnificently; and, when he had put all things in order, went to the prince of Persia.

You may easily conceive the prince of Persia's joy, when the jeweller told him that he came to conduct him to the house he had prepared to receive him and Schemselnihar. This news obliterated all his former trouble. He put on a magnificent robe, and went without his retinue along with the jeweller, who led him through several by-streets, that nobody might observe him, and at last brought him to the house, where they discoursed together until Schemselnihar came.

They did not stay long for this passionate lover. She came after evening-prayers, with her confident and two other slaves. The excess of joy that seized those two lovers, when they saw one another, it is altogether impossible to express. They sat down together upon the sofa for some time, without being able to speak, they were so much overjoyed; but, when speech returned to them, they soon made up for their silence. They expressed themselves with so much tenderness, as made the jeweller, the confident, and the two other slaves, weep. The jeweller, however, restrained his tears to think upon the collation, which he brought. The lovers ate and drank a little, after which they again sat down on the sofa. Schemselnihar asked the jeweller if he had a lute, or any other instrument. The jeweller, who took care to provide all that might please them, brought her a lute, which she took some time to tune, and then played.

While Schemselnihar was thus charming the prince of Persia, and expressing her passion by words composed extempore, a great noise was heard, and immediately the slave whom the jeweller brought with him appeared in a terrible fright, to tell him that some people were breaking up the gate; that he asked who it was, but, instead of an answer, the blows were redoubled. The jeweller, being alarmed, left Schemselnihar and the prince, to go and inform himself of the truth of this bad news. There was already got into the court a company of men armed with bayonets and scimitars, who had entered privately, and, having broken up the gate, came straight towards him: he stood close to a wall for fear of his life, and saw ten of them pass without being perceived by them; and, finding that he could give no help to the prince of Persia and Schemselnihar, he satisfied himself with bewailing them, and fled for refuge to a neighbour's house, who was not yet gone to bed. He did not doubt that this unexpected violence was by the caliph's order, who, he thought, had been informed of his favourite's meeting with the prince of Persia. He heard a great noise in his own house, which continued till midnight; and when all was quiet, as he thought, he prayed his neighbour to lend him a scimitar, and, being thus armed, went on till he came to the gate of his own house. He entered the court full of fear, and perceived a man, who asked him who he was? He knew by his voice that it was his own slave. How didst thou do, said he, to avoid being taken by the watch? Sir, answered the slave, I hid myself in a corner of the court, and I went out as soon as I heard the noise. But it was not the watch who broke your house; they were highwaymen, who within these few days robbed another in this neighbourhood: they have doubtless had notice of the rich furniture you brought hither, and had that in their view.

The jeweller thought his slave's conjecture probable: he entered the house, and saw that the highwaymen had taken all the furniture out of the chamber where he received Schemselnihar and her lover; that they had also carried off the vessels of gold and silver, and, in a word, had left nothing. Being in this condition, O Heaven! cried he, I am irrecoverably undone! What will my friends say, and what excuse can I make, when I tell them that highwaymen have broken into my house, and robbed me of all that they generously lent me? I shall never be able to make up their loss. Besides, what is become of Schemselnihar and the prince of Persia? This business will be so public, that it is impossible but it must reach the caliph's ears. He will get notice of this meeting, and I shall fall a sacrifice to his fury. The slave, who loved him, endeavoured to comfort him thus: As to Schemselnihar, said he, the highwaymen probably would content themselves to strip her; and you have reason to think that she is retired to her palace with her slaves. The prince of Persia is probably in the same condition; so that you have reason to hope that the caliph will never know of this adventure. As for the loss your friends have sustained, that is a misfortune which you could not avoid. They know very well the highwaymen to be so numerous, that they have not only pillaged the house I have already spoken of, but many other houses of the principal noblemen of the court; and they are not ignorant that, notwithstanding the orders given to apprehend them, nobody has yet been able to seize any of them. You will be acquitted by restoring your friends the value of the things that are stolen; and, blessed be God, you have enough left.

Waiting till day, the jeweller ordered the slave to mend the gate of the house, which was broken up, as well as he could: after which he returned to his ordinary house with his slave, making sad reflections on what had befallen him. Ebn Thaher, said he to himself, has been wiser than I; he foresaw the misfortune into which I have blindly thrown myself: would to God I had never meddled in this intrigue, which I fear will cost me my life!

It was scarcely day, when the report of the robbery had spread through the city, and there came to the house a great many of the jeweller's friends and neighbours, to testify their grief for this misfortune, but were curious to know the particulars. He thanked them for their affection, and was so much the better satisfied, that he heard nobody speak of Schemselnihar or the prince of Persia, which made him believe they were at their houses. or in some secure place.

When the jeweller was alone, his servants brought him something to eat, but he could not taste a bit. About noon one of his slaves came to tell him that a man was at the gate, whom he knew not, and desired to speak with him. The jeweller, not willing to receive a stranger into his house, rose up, and went to speak with him. Though you do not know me, said the man, I know you, and am come to discourse with you on an important affair. The jeweller prayed him to step in. No, answered the stranger; if you please, rather take the trouble to go with me to your other house. How know you, replied the jeweller, that I have another house? I know well enough, answered the stranger: follow me, do not fear any thing; I have something to communicate to you which will please you. The jeweller went immediately with him; and after he had considered by the way how the house they were going to was robbed, he said to him that it was not fit to receive him.

When they were before the house, and the stranger saw the gate half broken down, he said to the jeweller, I see you have told me the truth; I will carry you to a place which will be more convenient. He went on when he had spoken thus, and walked all the rest of the day without stopping. The jeweller being weary with walking, vexed to see night approach, and the stranger having walked all day without acquainting him where he was going, began to lose patience. Then they came to a path which led them to the Tigris; and as soon as they came to the river, they crossed in a little boat. The stranger led the jeweller through a long street, where he had never been before, and, after taking him through several streets, stopped at a gate, which he opened. He caused the jeweller to go in, shut the gate, bolted it with a huge iron bolt, and then conducted, him to a chamber, where there were ten other men, all as great strangers to the jeweller as his conductor.

The ten men received the jeweller without any compliments. They bid him sit down; of which he had great need, for he was not only weak with walking so far, but the fear be was in, on finding himself with people whom he thought he had reason to dread, would have disabled him from standing. They waited for their leader to supper, and, as soon as he came, it was served up. They washed their hands, obliging the jeweller to do the like, and to sit at table with them. After supper, the men asked him if he knew to whom he spoke. He answered, No, and that he knew not the place he was in. Tell us your last nights adventure, said they to him, and conceal nothing from us. The jeweller, being astonished at this discourse, answered, Gentlemen, it is probable you know it already. That is true, replied they, the young man and the young lady, who were at your house yesternight, told it us; but we would know it from your own mouth. The jeweller needed no more to be informed that they were the highwaymen who had broken up and plundered his house. Gentlemen, said he, I am much troubled for that young man and the lady; can you tell me any thing of them?

Upon the jeweller's inquiry if they knew any thing of the young man and the young lady, the thieves answered, Be not concerned for them; they are safe enough, and in good health: which saying, they showed him two closets, where they assured him they were separately shut up. They added, We are informed you only know what relates to them; which we no sooner came to understand, than we showed them all imaginable respect, and were so far from doing them any injury, that we treated them with all the kindness we were capable of on your account. You may secure yourself the like favour, proceeded they, in regard to your own person, and put all manner of confidence in us without the least reserve.

The jeweller, being heartened at this, and overjoyed to hear that the prince of Persia and Schemselnihar were safe, resolved to engage the thieves yet further in their interest. For this purpose he commended them, flattered them, and gave them a thousand benedictions. Gentlemen, said he, I must confess I have not the honour of knowing you; yet it is no small happiness to me that I am not wholly unknown to you; and I can never be sufficiently grateful for the favours which that knowledge has procured me at your hands. Without mentioning so great an act of humanity as that I lately received from you, I must needs say, I am fully persuaded that no persons in the world can be so proper to be trusted with a secret, and none more fit to undertake a great enterprise, which you can best bring to a good issue by your zeal, courage, and intrepidity. In confidence of these great and good qualities, which are so much your due, I will not scruple to relate to you my whole history, with that of the two persons you found in my house.

After the jeweller had thus secured, as he thought, the thieves to secrecy, he made no scruple to relate to them the whole amour of the prince of Persia and Schemselnihar, from the beginning of it to the time he received them into his house.

The thieves were greatly astonished at the surprising particulars they heard, and could not forbear crying out, How! is it possible that the young man should be the illustrious Ali Elm Becar, prince of Persia; and the young lady the fair and celebrated Schemselnihar! The jeweller assured them nothing was more certain, and that they needed not to think it strange that persons of so distinguished a character should not care to be known.

Upon this assurance of their quality, the thieves went immediately, one after the other, and threw themselves at their feet, imploring pardon, and begging them to believe they would never have offered any violence to their persons, had they known who they were; but, seeing they did not, they would by their future conduct do their best endeavours to make some recompence at least for the crime they had thus ignorantly committed. Having made profound reverences, they returned to the jeweller, and told him they were heartily sorry they could not restore all that had been taken from him, some part of it being out of their possession; but as for what remained, if he would content himself with his plate, it should be forthwith put into his hands.

The jeweller was overjoyed at the favour; and after the thieves had delivered the plate, they required the prince, Schemselnihar, and him, to promise upon oath that they would not betray them, and they would carry them to a place whence they might easily go to their respective homes. The prince, Schemselnihar, and the jeweller, replied, that they might rely on their words; but since they desired an oath of them, they solemnly swore not to discover them so long as they were with them. With this the thieves were satisfied, and immediately set out to perform their promise.

By the way, the jeweller, being concerned that he could not see the confident and the two slaves, came up to Schemselnihar and begged her to inform him what was become of them. She answered, she knew nothing of them, and that all she could tell him was, that she was carried away from his house, ferried over a river, and brought to the place from whence they were just now come.

Schemselnihar and the jeweller had no further discourse; they found themselves at the brink of a river, whence the thieves immediately took boat, and carried them to the other side.

Whilst the prince, Schemselnihar, and the jeweller, were landing, they heard a noise as of horse-guards that were coming towards them. The thieves no sooner perceived the danger, but they took to their oars, and got over to the other side of the river in an instant.

The commander of the brigade demanded of the prince, Schemselnihar, and the jeweller, who they were, and whence they came so late. This frightened them at first so much that they could not speak; but at length the jeweller found his tongue, and said, Sir, I can assure you, we are very honest people; but those persons who have just landed us, and are got to the other side of the water, are thieves, who, having last night broken open the house that we were in, pillaged it, and afterwards carried us to an obscure inn, where, by some entreaty and good management, we prevailed on them to let us have our liberty; to which end they brought us hither. They have restored us part of the booty they had taken from us. At these words he showed the plate he had recovered.

The commander, not being satisfied with what the jeweller told him, came up to him and the prince of Persia, and, looking steadfastly at them, said, Tell me truly who is this lady? how came you to know her? and whereabouts do you live?

This demand surprised them strangely, and tied their tongues, insomuch that neither of them could answer; till at length Schemselnihar, taking the commander aside, told him frankly who she was; which he no sooner came to know, than he alighted, paid both her and the company great respect, and caused two boats to be got ready for their service.

When the boats were come, he put Schemselnihar into one, and the prince of Persia and the jeweller into the other, with two of his people in each: they had orders to accompany them whithersoever they were bound. Being abroad, the two boats took different routes; but we shall at present speak only of that wherein were the prince and the jeweller.

The prince, to save his guides trouble, bid them land the jeweller with him, and named the place whither he would go. The guides, mistaking his orders, stopped just before the caliph's palace, which put both him and the jeweller into a fright, though he durst discover nothing of the matter; for though they had heard the commander's orders to his men, they could not help imagining they were to be delivered up to the guard, and brought before the caliph next morning.

This, nevertheless, was not the intention of the guides; for, after they had landed them, they, by their master's command, recommended them to an officer of the guard, who next morning assigned them soldiers to conduct them by land to the prince's chateau, which was at some distance from the river.

The prince being come home, what with the fatigue of his journey, and the affliction he conceived at being never likely again to see Schemselnihar, fell into a swoon on his sofa; and while the greater part of his servants was endeavouring to recover him, the other part gathered about the jeweller, and begged of him to tell them what had happened to the prince their lord, whose absence had occasioned inexpressible disquiet.

The jeweller, who would discover nothing to them that was not prudent to be repealed, told them it was not a proper time for such a relation, and that they would do better to go and assist the prince, than require anything of him, especially at that juncture. The prince fortunately came to himself that very moment; when those that but just before required his history with so much earnestness, began now to get at a distance, and pay that respect which was due from them. Although the prince had in some measure recovered himself, yet he continued so weak, that he could not open his mouth. He answered only by signs, and that even to his nearest relations who spoke to him. He remained in the same condition till next morning, when the jeweller came to take leave of him. His answer was only with a wink, holding forth his right hand; but when he saw he was loaded with the bundle of plate the thieves had taken from him, he made a sign to his servants that they should take and carry it along with him to his house.