The Story of Prince Khalaf and the Princess of China

THE STORY OF PRINCE KHALAF AND THE PRINCESS OF CHINA. Prince Khalaf was the son of an aged khan of the Nagäi-Tartars. The history of his time makes honourable…

THE STORY OF PRINCE KHALAF AND THE PRINCESS OF CHINA.

Prince Khalaf was the son of an aged khan of the Nagäi-Tartars. The history of his time makes honourable mention of his name. It relates that he surpassed all the princes of the age in beauty, in wisdom, and in valour; that he was as learned as the greatest doctors of his age; that he could fathom the deepest mysteries of the commentaries on the Koran; and that he knew by heart the sayings of the prophet: it speaks of him, in short, as the hero of Asia and the wonder of the East.

This prince was the soul of the councils of his father Timurtasch. When he gave advice, the most accomplished statesmen approved it, and could not sufficiently admire his prudence and wisdom. If, moreover, it were necessary to take up arms, he was immediately seen at the head of the troops of the state, seeking out the enemy, engaging them and vanquishing them. He had already won several victories, and the Nagäis had rendered themselves so formidable by their repeated successes, that the neighbouring nations did not venture to quarrel with them.

Such was the prosperous state of affairs in the khan's dominions, when an ambassador from the sultan of Carisma arrived at the court of Timurtasch, and demanded in the name of his master that the Nagäis should henceforth pay him a yearly tribute; he added that in default he would come in person, with an overwhelming force, and compel them to submit, at the same time depriving their sovereign of his crown as a punishment for his refusal. On hearing this arrogant message, the khan immediately assembled his council in order to decide whether to pay the tribute rather than risk a war with so powerful an enemy, or whether to treat his menaces with contempt and prepare to repel the invaders. Khalaf, with the majority of the council, were of the latter opinion, and the ambassador being dismissed with a refusal, took his departure for Carisma.

The khan lost no time in sending deputies to the neighbouring nations, in order to represent to them that it was to their interest to unite with him against the sultan of Carisma, whose ambition now exceeded all bounds, and who would undoubtedly exact the same tribute from them if he should succeed in conquering the Nagäis. The deputies succeeded in these negotiations; the neighbouring nations and tribes, and amongst them the Circassians, engaged to join in the proposed confederation, and to furnish among them a quota of fifty thousand men. On this promise, the khan proceeded to raise fresh troops, in addition to the army which he already had on foot.

While the Nagäis were making these preparations, the sultan of Carisma assembled an army of two hundred thousand men, and crossed the Jaxartes at Cogende. He marched through the countries of Ilac and Saganac, where he found abundance of provisions; and had advanced as far as Jund, before the army of the khan, commanded by prince Khalaf, was able to take the field, in consequence of the Circassians and the other auxiliary troops not having been able sooner to join him. As soon as these succours arrived, Khalaf marched direct towards Jund, but he had scarcely passed Jenge Kemt, when his scouts informed him that the enemy was close at hand, and was advancing to attack him. The young prince immediately ordered his troops to halt, and proceeded to arrange them in order of battle.

The two armies were nearly equal in numbers, and the men who composed them equally courageous. The battle which ensued was bloody and obstinate. The sultan did all that a warrior skilled in the conduct of armies could do; and the prince Khalaf, on his side, more than could be expected from so young a general. At one time the Nagäi-Tartars had the advantage, at another they were obliged to yield to the Carismians; at last both parties, alternately victors and vanquished, were obliged by the approach of night to sound a retreat. The combat was to have recommenced in the morning; but, in the mean time, the leader of the Circassians went secretly to the sultan, and offered to abandon the cause of the Nagäis, provided the sultan would pledge himself, on oath, never to exact tribute from the Circassians upon any pretence whatever. The sultan having consented, the treaty was confirmed, and the Circassian leader, instead of occupying his place next day in the army of the khan, detached his troops from the Nagäis, and took the road back to his own country.

This treachery was a terrible blow to prince Khalaf, who, seeing himself now much weakened in numbers, would have withdrawn for the time from the conflict; but there was no possibility of retreat. The Carismians advanced furiously to the charge, and taking advantage of the ground which allowed them to extend their lines, they surrounded the Nagäis on all sides. The latter, notwithstanding that they had been deserted by their best auxiliaries, did not lose their courage. Animated by the example of their prince, they closed their ranks, and for a long time firmly sustained the terrible onset of their enemies. At last, however, resistance became hopeless, and Khalaf, seeing all hope at an end, thought of nothing but his escape, which he fortunately succeeded in effecting. The moment the sultan was apprised of his flight, he sent six thousand horsemen to endeavour to capture him, but he eluded their pursuit, by taking roads that were unknown to them; and after a few days' hard riding through unfrequented and unknown tracts, arrived at his father's court, where he spread sorrow and consternation, by the disastrous tidings he brought.

If this piece of news deeply afflicted Timurtasch, the intelligence he next received drove him to despair. An officer who had escaped from the battle, brought word that the sultan of Carisma had put to the sword nearly all the Nagäis, and that he was advancing with all possible speed, fully resolved to put the whole family of the khan to death, and to absorb the nation into his own kingdom. The khan then repented of having refused to pay the tribute, but he fully recognized the force of the Arab proverb, "When the city is in ruins, what is the use of repentance?" As time pressed, and it was necessary to fly, for fear of falling into the hands of the sultan, the khan, the princess Elmaze (diamond), his wife, and Khalaf, made a selection of all their most precious treasures, and departed from the capital, Astracan, accompanied by several officers of the palace, who refused to abandon them in their need, as well as by such of the troops as had cut their way through the ranks of their enemies with the young prince.

They directed their march towards Bulgaria; their object being to beg an asylum at the court of some sovereign prince. They had now been several days on their journey, and had gained the Caucasus, when a swarm of some four thousand suddenly poured down upon them from that range. Although Khalaf had scarcely a hundred men with him, he steadily received the furious attack of the robbers, of whom numbers fell; his troops, however, were by degrees overpowered and slaughtered, and he himself remained in the power of the bandits, some of whom fell upon the spoil, whilst others butchered the followers of the khan. They only spared the lives of that prince, his wife, and his son, leaving them, however, almost naked in the midst of the mountains.

It is impossible to describe the grief of Timurtasch when he saw himself reduced to this extremity. He envied the fate of those whom he had seen slain before his eyes, and giving way to despair, sought to destroy himself. The princess burst into tears, and made the air resound with her lamentations and groans. Khalaf alone had strength to support the weight of their misfortunes; he was possessed of an indomitable courage. The bitter lamentations which the khan and his wife uttered were his greatest trouble. "Oh, my father! Oh, my mother!" said he, "do not succumb to your misfortunes. Remember that it is God who wills that you should be thus wretched. Let us submit ourselves without a murmur to his absolute decrees. Are we the first princes whom the rod of justice has struck? How many rulers before us have been driven from their kingdoms, and after wandering about for years in foreign lands, sharing the lot of the most abject of mortals, have been in the end restored to their thrones! If God has the power to pluck off crowns, has He not also the power to restore them? Let us hope that He will commiserate our misery, and that He will in time change into prosperity the deplorable condition in which we now are."

With such arguments he endeavoured to console his father and mother, and to some extent succeeded; they experienced a secret consolation, and at last allowed themselves to take comfort. "So be it, my son," said the khan, "let us bow to Providence; and since these evils which encompass us are written in the book of fate, let us endure them without repining." At these words the royal party made up their minds to be firm under their misfortunes, and proceeded to continue their journey on foot, the robbers having taken their horses. They wandered on for a long time, living upon the fruits they found in the valleys; but at length they entered upon a desert, where the earth yielded nothing upon which they could subsist, and now their courage deserted them. The khan, far advanced in years, began to feel his strength fail him; and the princess, worn out with the fatigue of the journey she had made, could scarcely hold out any longer. In this predicament, Khalaf, although wofully tired himself, had no resource but to carry them by turns on his shoulders. At last all three, overwhelmed by hunger, thirst, and weariness, arrived at a spot abounding with frightful precipices. It was a hill, very steep, and intersected with deep chasms, forming what appeared to be dangerous passes. Through these, however, seemed to be the only way by which to enter upon the vast plain which stretched out beyond; for both sides of the hill were so encumbered with brambles and thorns, that it was impossible to force a way through. When the princess perceived the chasms, she uttered a piercing cry, and the khan at length lost his patience. He rushed furiously forward. "I can bear this no longer," said he to his son; "I yield to my hard destiny; I succumb to so much suffering. I will throw myself headlong into one of these deep gulfs, which, doubtless, Heaven has reserved for my tomb. I will escape the tyranny of wickedness. I prefer death to such a miserable existence."

The khan, yielding himself up to the frenzy which had taken possession of him, was on the point of throwing himself down one of the precipices, when prince Khalaf seized him in his arms and held him back. "Oh, my father!" said he, "what are you doing? Why give way to this transport of fury? Is it thus that you show the submission you owe to the decrees of Heaven? Calm yourself. Instead of displaying a rebellious impatience of its will, let us endeavour to deserve by our constancy its compassion and favour. I confess that we are in a deplorable state, and that we can scarcely take a step without danger amidst these abysses; but there may be another road by which we can enter the plain: let me go and see if I can find one. In the mean time, my lord, calm the violence of your transports, and remain near the princess; I will return immediately."

"Go, then, my son," replied the khan, "we will await you here; do not fear that I will any longer give way to despair."

The young prince traversed the whole hill without being able to discover any path. He was oppressed with the deepest grief; he threw himself on the ground, sighed, and implored the help of Heaven. He rose up, and again searched for some track that would conduct them to the plain. At length he found one. He followed it, returning thanks to Heaven for the discovery, and advanced to the foot of a tree which stood at the entrance of the plain, and which covered with its shade a fountain of pure transparent water. He also perceived other trees laden with fruit of an extraordinary size. Delighted with this discovery, he ran to inform his father and mother, who received the news with the greater joy, since they now began to hope that Heaven had begun to compassionate their misery.

Khalaf conducted them to the fountain, where all three bathed their faces and their hands and quenched the burning thirst which consumed them. They then ate of the fruits which the young prince gathered for them, and which, in their state of exhaustion from want of food, appeared to them delicious. "My lord," said Khalaf to his father, "you see the injustice of your complaints. You imagined that Heaven had forsaken us; I implored its succour, and it has succoured us. It is not deaf to the voice of the unfortunate who put their whole trust in its mercy."

They remained near the fountain two or three days to repose and recruit their wasted strength. After that they collected as much of the fruit as they could carry, and advanced into the plain, hoping to find their way to some inhabited place. They were not deceived in their expectations; they soon perceived before them a town which appeared large and splendidly built. They made their way to it, and having arrived at the gates, resolved to remain there and wait for night, not wishing to enter the town during the day, covered with dust and perspiration, and with what little clothing the robbers had left them, travel-worn and rent with brambles. They selected a tree which cast a delicious shade, and stretched themselves upon the grass at its foot. They had reposed there some time, when an old man came out of the town and directed his steps to the same place, to enjoy the cool shade. He sat down near them after making them a profound obeisance. They in turn saluted him, and then inquired what was the name of the town. "It is called Jaic," replied the old man. "The king, Ileuge-Khan, makes it his residence. It is the capital of the country, and derives its name from the river which flows through it. You must be strangers since you ask me that question." "Yes," replied the khan, "we come from a country very far from here. We were born in the kingdom of Chrisnia, and we dwell upon the banks of the Caspian Sea; we are merchants. We were travelling with a number of other merchants in Captchak; a large band of robbers attacked our caravan and pillaged us; they spared our lives, but have left us in the situation in which you see us. We have traversed mount Caucasus, and found our way here without knowing where we were directing our steps."

The old man, who had a compassionate heart for the distress of his neighbour, expressed his sympathy for their misfortunes, and, to assure them of his sincerity, offered them shelter in his house. He made the offer with such cordiality, that, even if they had not needed it, they would have felt some difficulty in refusing.

As soon as night set in he conducted them to his home. It was a small house, very plainly furnished; but every thing was neat, and wore the appearance rather of simplicity than of poverty. As the old man entered he gave some orders in an undertone to one of his slaves, who returned in a short time followed by two boys, one of whom carried a large bundle of men's and women's clothes ready made, the other was laden with all sorts of veils, turbans, and girdles. Prince Khalaf and his father each took a caftan of cloth and a brocaded dress with a turban of Indian muslin, and the princess a complete suit. After this their host gave the boys the price of the clothes, sent them away, and ordered supper. Two slaves brought the table and placed upon it a tray covered with dishes of china, sandal, and aloe-wood, and several cups of coral perfumed with ambergris. They then served up a repast, delicate, yet without profusion. The old man endeavoured to raise the spirits of his guests; but perceiving that his endeavours were vain, "I see clearly," said he, "that the remembrance of your misfortunes is ever present to your minds. You must learn how to console yourselves for the loss of the goods of which the robbers have plundered you. Travellers and merchants often experience similar mishaps. I was myself once robbed on the road from Moussul to Bagdad. I nearly lost my life on that occasion, and I was reduced to the miserable condition in which I found you. If you please I will relate my history; the recital of my misfortunes may encourage you to support yours." Saying this, the good old man ordered his slaves to retire, and spoke as follows.

THE STORY OF PRINCE AL ABBAS.

I am the son of the king of Moussul, the great Ben-Ortoc. As soon as I had reached my twentieth year, my father permitted me to make a journey to Bagdad; and, to support the rank of a king's son in that great city, he ordered a splendid suite to attend me. He opened his treasures and took out for me four camel-loads of gold; he appointed officers of his own household to wait upon me, and a hundred soldiers of his guard to form my escort.

I took my departure from Moussul with this numerous retinue in order to travel to Bagdad. Nothing happened the first few days; but one night, whilst we were quietly reposing in a meadow where we had encamped, we were suddenly attacked so furiously by an overwhelming body of Bedouin Arabs, that the greater part of my people were massacred almost before I was aware of the danger. After the first confusion I put myself at the head of such of the guards and officers of my father's household as had escaped the first onslaught, and charged the Bedouins. Such was the vigour of our attack, that more than three hundred fell under our blows. As the day dawned, the robbers, who were still sufficiently numerous to surround us on all sides, seeing our insignificant numbers, and ashamed and irritated by the obstinate resistance of such a handful of men, redoubled their efforts. It was in vain that we fought with the fury of desperation; they overpowered us; and at length we were forced to yield to numbers.

They seized our arms and stripped off our clothes, and then, instead of reserving us for slaves, or letting us depart, as people already sufficiently wretched, in the state to which we were reduced, they resolved to revenge the deaths of their comrades; and were cowards and barbarians enough to slaughter the whole of their defenceless prisoners. All my people perished; and the same fate was on the point of being inflicted on me, when making myself known to the robbers, "Stay, rash men," I exclaimed, "respect the blood of kings. I am prince Al Abbas, only son of Ben-Ortoc, king of Moussul, and heir to his throne." "I am glad to learn who thou art," replied the chief of the Bedouins. "We have hated thy father mortally these many years; he has hanged several of our comrades who fell into his hands; thou shalt be treated after the same manner."

Thereupon they bound me; and the villains, after first sharing among them all my baggage, carried me along with them to the foot of a mountain between two forests, where a great number of small grey tents were pitched. Here was their well-concealed camping ground. They placed me under the chief's tent, which was both loftier and larger than the rest. Here I was kept a whole day, after which they led me forth and bound me to a tree, where, awaiting the lingering death that was to put an end to my existence, I had to endure the mortification of finding myself surrounded by the whole gang, insulted with bitter taunts, and every feeling miserably outraged.

I had been tied to the tree for some considerable time, and the last moments of my life appeared fast approaching, when a scout came galloping in to inform the chief of the Bedouins that a splendid chance offered itself seven leagues from thence; that a large caravan was to encamp the next evening in a certain spot, which he named. The chief instantly ordered his companions to prepare for the expedition; this was accomplished in a very short time. They all mounted their horses, and left me in their camp, not doubting but at their return they would find me a corpse. But Heaven, which renders useless all the resolves of men which do not agree with its eternal decrees, would not suffer me to perish so young. The wife of the robber chief had, it seems, taken pity on me; she managed to creep stealthily, during the night, to the tree where I was bound, and said to me, "Young man, I am touched by thy misfortune, and I would willingly release thee from the dangers that surround thee; but, if I were to unbind thee, dost thou think that thou hast strength enough left to escape." I replied, "The same good God who has inspired thee with these charitable feelings will give me strength to walk." The woman loosed my cords, gave me an old caftan of her husband's, and showing me the road, "Take that direction," said she, "and thou wilt speedily arrive at an inhabited place." I thanked my kind benefactress, and walked all that night without deviating from the road she had pointed out.

The next day, I perceived a man on foot, who was driving before him a horse, laden with two large packages. I joined him, and, after telling him that I was an unfortunate stranger, who did not know the country, and had missed my way, I inquired of him where he was going. "I am going," replied he, "to sell my merchandise at Bagdad, and I hope to arrive there in two days." I accompanied this man, and only left him when I entered that great city; he went about his business, and I retired to a mosque, where I remained two days and two nights. I had no desire to go forth into the streets; I was afraid of meeting persons from Moussul, who might recognize me. So great was my shame at finding myself in this plight, that far from thinking of making my condition known, I wished to conceal it, even from myself. Hunger at length overcame my shame, or rather I was obliged to yield to that necessity which brooks no refusal. I resolved to beg my bread, until some better prospect presented itself. I stood before the lower window of a large house, and solicited alms with a loud voice. An old female slave appeared almost immediately, with a loaf in her hand, which she held out to me. As I advanced to take it, the wind by chance raised the curtain of the window, and allowed me to catch a glimpse of the interior of the chamber; there I saw a young lady of surpassing beauty; her loveliness burst upon my vision like a flash of lightning. I was completely dazzled. I received the bread without thinking what I was about, and stood motionless before the old slave, instead of thanking her, as I ought to have done.

I was so surprised, so confused, and so violently enamoured, that doubtless she took me for a madman; she disappeared, leaving me in the street, gazing intently, though fruitlessly, at the window, for the wind did not again raise the curtain. I passed the whole day awaiting a second favourable breeze. Not until I perceived night coming on, could I make up my mind to think of retiring; but before quitting the house, I asked an old man, who was passing, if he knew to whom it belonged. "It is," replied he, "the house of Mouaffac, the son of Adbane; he is a man of rank, and, moreover, a rich man and a man of honour. It is not long since he was the governor of the city, but he quarrelled with the cadi, who found means of ruining him in the estimation of the caliph, and thereby caused him to lose his appointment."

With my thoughts fully taken up by this adventure, I slowly wandered out of the city, and entering the great cemetery determined to pass the night there. I ate my bread without appetite, although my long fast ought to have given me a good one, and then lay down near a tomb, with my head resting on a pile of bricks. It was with difficulty that I composed myself to sleep: the daughter of Mouaffac had made too deep an impression upon me; the remembrance of her loveliness excited my imagination too vividly, and the little food I had eaten was not enough to cause the usual tendency to a refreshing sleep. At length, however, I dozed off, in spite of the ideas that filled my imagination; but my sleep was not destined to be of long duration; a loud noise within the tomb soon awoke me.

Alarmed at the disturbance, the cause of which I did not stay to ascertain, I started up, with the intention of flying from the cemetery, when two men, who were standing at the entrance of the tomb, perceiving me, stopped me, and demanded who I was, and what I was doing there. "I am," I replied, "an unfortunate stranger, whom misfortune has reduced to live upon the bounty of the charitable, and I came here to pass the night, as I have no place to go to in the town." "Since thou art a beggar," said one of them, "thank Heaven that thou hast met with us; we will furnish thee with an excellent supper." So saying, they dragged me into the tomb, where four of their comrades were eating large radishes and dates, and washing them down with copious draughts of raki.

They made me sit near them, at a long stone that served as a table, and I was obliged to eat and drink, for politeness' sake. I suspected them to be what they really were, that is to say, thieves, and they soon confirmed my suspicions by their discourse. They began to speak of a considerable theft they had just committed, and thought that it would afford me infinite pleasure to become one of their gang; they made me the offer, which threw me into great perplexity. You may imagine that I had no desire to associate myself with such fellows, but I was fearful of irritating them by a refusal. I was embarrassed, and at a loss for a reply, when a sudden event freed me from my trouble. The lieutenant of the cadi, followed by twenty or thirty _asas_ (archers) well armed, entered the tomb, seized the robbers and me, and took us all off to prison, where we passed the remainder of the night. The following day, the cadi came and interrogated the prisoners. The thieves confessed their crime, as they saw there was no use in denying it; for myself, I related to the judge how I had met with them, and, as they corroborated my statement, I was put on one side. The cadi wished to speak to me in private, before he set me free. Accordingly, he presently came over to me, and asked what took me into the cemetery where I was caught, and how I spent my time in Bagdad. In fact, he asked me a thousand questions, all of which I answered with great candour, only concealing the royalty of my birth. I recounted to him all that had happened to me, and I even told him of my having stopped before the window of Mouaffac's house to beg, and of my having seen, by chance, a young lady who had charmed me.

At the name of Mouaffac I noticed the eyes of the cadi sparkle, with a curious expression. He remained a few moments immersed in thought; then, assuming a joyous countenance, he said, "Young man, it depends only on thyself to possess the lady thou sawest yesterday. It was doubtless Mouaffac's daughter; for I have been informed that he has a daughter of exquisite beauty. Though thou wert the most abject of beings, I would find means for thee to possess the object of thine ardent wishes. Thou hast but to leave it to me, and I will make thy fortune."

I thanked him, without being able to penetrate his designs, and then by his orders followed the aga of his black eunuchs, who released me from the prison, and took me to the bath.

Whilst I was there, the judge sent two of his _tchaous_ (guards) to Mouaffac's house, with a message that the cadi wished to speak to him upon business of the greatest importance. Mouaffac accompanied the guards back. As soon as the cadi saw him coming he went forward to meet him, saluted him, and kissed him several times. Mouaffac was in amazement at this reception.

"Ho! ho!" said he to himself, "how is this, that the cadi, my greatest enemy, is become so civil to me to-day? There is something at the bottom of all this."

"Friend Mouaffac," said the judge, "Heaven will not suffer us to be enemies any longer. It has furnished us with an opportunity of extinguishing that hatred which has separated our families for so many years. The prince of Bozrah arrived here last night. He left Bozrah without taking leave of his father the king. He has heard of your daughter; and from the description of her beauty which he has received, he has become so enamoured of her, that he is resolved to ask her in marriage. He wishes me to arrange the marriage,--a task which is the more agreeable to me, as it will be the means of reconciling us."

"I am astounded," replied Mouaffac, "that the prince of Bozrah should have condescended to confer upon me the honour of marrying my daughter; and that you of all men should be the chosen means of communicating this happiness to me, as you have always shown yourself so anxious to injure me."

"Let us not speak of the past, friend Mouaffac," returned the cadi; "pray let all recollection of what we have done to annoy each other be obliterated in our happiness at the splendid connexion which is to unite your daughter with the prince of Bozrah; let us pass the remainder of our days in good fellowship."

Mouaffac was naturally as good and confiding as the cadi was crafty and bad: he allowed himself to be deceived by the false expressions of friendship that his enemy displayed. He stifled his hatred in a moment, and received without distrust the perfidious caresses of the cadi. They were in the act of embracing each other, and pledging an inviolable friendship, when I entered the room, conducted by the aga. This officer, on my coming out of the bath, had clothed me with a beautiful dress, which he had ready, and a turban of Indian muslin, with a gold fringe that hung down to my ear, and altogether my appearance was such as fully to bear out the statements of the cadi.

"Great prince," said the cadi as soon as he perceived me, "blessed be your feet, and your arrival in Bagdad, since it has pleased you to take up your abode with me. What tongue can express to you the gratitude I feel for so great an honour? Here is Mouaffac, whom I have informed of the object of your visit to this city. He consents to give you in marriage his daughter, who is as beautiful as a star."

Mouaffac then made me a profound obeisance, saying, "O son of the mighty, I am overwhelmed with the honour you are willing to confer upon my daughter; she would esteem herself sufficiently honoured in being made a slave to one of the princesses of your harem."

Judge of the astonishment that this discourse caused me. I knew not what to answer. I saluted Mouaffac without speaking; but the cadi, perceiving my embarrassment, and fearing lest I should make some reply which would destroy his plot, instantly took up the conversation.

"I venture to submit," said he, "that the sooner the marriage contract is made in presence of the proper witnesses the better." So saying, he ordered his aga to go for the witnesses, and in the mean time drew up the contract himself.

When the aga arrived with the witnesses, the contract was read before them. I signed it, then Mouaffac, and then the cadi, who attached his signature the last. The judge then dismissed the witnesses, and turning to Mouaffac said, "You know that with great people these affairs are not managed as with persons of humble rank. Besides, in this case you readily perceive that silence and despatch are necessary. Conduct this prince, then, to your house, for he is now your son-in-law; give speedy orders for the consummation of the marriage, and take care that every thing is arranged as becomes his exalted rank."

I left the cadi's house with Mouaffac. We found two mules richly caparisoned awaiting us at the door; the judge insisted upon our mounting them with great ceremony. Mouaffac conducted me to his house; and when we were in the court-yard dismounted first, and with a respectful air presented himself to hold my stirrup,--a ceremony to which of course I was obliged to submit. He then took me by the hand and conducted me to his daughter, with whom he left me alone, after informing her of what had passed at the cadi's.

Zemroude, persuaded that her father had espoused her to a prince of Bozrah, received me as a husband who would one day place her upon the throne,--and I, the happiest of men, passed the day at her feet, striving by tender and conciliating manners to inspire her with love for me. I soon perceived that my pains were not bestowed in vain, and that my youth and ardent affection produced a favourable impression upon her. With what rapture did this discovery fill me! I redoubled my efforts, and I had the gratification of remarking that each moment I made advances in her esteem.

In the mean time Mouaffac had prepared a splendid repast to celebrate his daughter's nuptials, at which several members of his family were present. The bride appeared there more brilliant and more beautiful than the houris. The sentiments with which I had already inspired her, seemed to add new lustre to her beauty.

The next morning I heard a knock at my chamber-door; I got up and opened it. There stood the black aga of the cadi carrying a large bundle of clothes. I thought that perhaps the cadi had sent robes of honour to my wife and myself, but I was deceived.

"Sir adventurer," said the negro in a bantering tone, "the cadi sends his salutations, and begs you to return the dress he lent you yesterday to play the part of the prince of Bozrah in. I have brought you back your own old garment, and the rest of the tatters, which are more suited to your station than the other."

I was astounded at the application; my eyes were opened, and I saw through the whole malicious scheme of the cadi. However, making a virtue of necessity, I gravely restored to the aga the robe and turban of his master, and retook my own old caftan, which was a mass of rags. Zemroude had heard part of the conversation; and seeing me covered with rags, "O heavens!" she exclaimed, "what is the meaning of this change, and what has that man been saying to you?"

"My princess," I replied, "the cadi is a great rascal, but he is the dupe of his own malice. He thinks he has given you a beggar for a husband, a man born in the lowest grade, but you are, indeed, the wife of a prince, and my rank is in no way inferior to that of the husband, whose hand you fancy you have received. I am to the full the equal of the prince of Bozrah, for I am the only son of the king of Moussul, and am heir to the kingdom of the great Ben-Ortoc; my name is Al Abbas." I then related my history to her, without suppressing the least circumstance. When I had finished the recital,

"My prince," said she, "even were you not the son of a great king, I should love you none the less; and, believe me, that if I am overjoyed to learn the circumstance of your exalted birth, it is but out of regard to my father, who is more dazzled by the honours of the world than I; my only ambition is to possess a husband who will love me alone, and not grieve me by giving me rivals."

I did not fail to protest that I would love her, and her alone, all my life, with which assurance she appeared delighted. She then summoned one of her women, and ordered her to proceed with all speed and secrecy to a merchant's, and buy a dress, ready made, of the richest materials that could be procured. The slave who was charged with this commission acquitted herself in the most satisfactory manner. She returned speedily, bringing a magnificent dress and robe, and a turban of Indian muslin as handsome, even handsomer, than what I had worn the previous day, so that I found myself even more gorgeously dressed than on the occasion of my first interview with my father-in-law. "Well, my lord," said Zemroude, "do you think the cadi has much reason to be satisfied with his work? He thought to heap reproaches on my family, and he has bestowed upon it an imperishable honour. He thinks that we are now overwhelmed with shame. What will be his grief when he knows that he has conferred such a benefit upon his enemy? But before he is made aware of your birth, we must invent some means of punishing him for his wicked designs against us. I will take that task upon me. There is in this city a dyer, who has a daughter most frightfully ugly. I will not tell you further," she continued, checking herself. "I will not deprive you of the pleasure of the surprise. I shall only let you know that I have conceived a project which will drive the cadi nearly mad, and make him the laughingstock of the court and the city."

She then dressed herself in plain clothes, and covering her face with a thick veil, asked my permission to go out, which I granted her. She went alone, repaired to the cadi's house, and placed herself in one corner of the hall, where the judge gave audience.

He no sooner cast his eyes upon her, than he was struck with her majestic figure; he sent an officer to ask who she was, and what she desired. She answered that she was the daughter of an artisan in the town, and that she wished to speak to the cadi on important private business. The officer having borne her answer to the cadi, the judge made a sign to Zemroude to approach, and enter his private apartment, which was on one side of the court; she complied, making a low obeisance. When she entered the cadi's private apartment, she took her seat upon the sofa, and raised her veil. The cadi had followed her, and as he seated himself near her, was astonished at her beauty.

"Well! my dear child," said he, patronizingly, "of what service can I be to you?"

"My lord," she replied, "you, who have the power to make the laws obeyed, who dispense justice to rich and poor alike, listen, I pray you, to my complaint, and pity the unfortunate situation in which I am placed."

"Explain yourself," replied the judge, already moved, "and I swear by my head and my eyes that I will do every thing that is possible, ay, and impossible, to serve you."

"Know then, my lord," replied Zemroude, "that, notwithstanding the attractions which Heaven has bestowed upon me, I live in solitude and obscurity in a house, forbidden not only to men, but even to women, so that even the conversation of my own sex is denied me. Not that advantageous proposals were at one time wanting for my hand; I should have been married long ago, if my father had not had the cruelty to refuse me to all who have asked me in marriage. To one he says, I am as withered as a dead tree; to another, that I am bloated with unnatural fat; to this one, that I am lame, and have lost the use of my hands; to that one, that I have lost my senses, that I have a cancer on my back, that I am dropsical; in fact, he wishes to make me out a creature not worthy the society of human beings, and has so decried me, that he has at length succeeded in making me the reproach of the human race; nobody inquires about me now, and I am condemned to perpetual celibacy."

When she ceased speaking she pretended to weep, and played her part so well that the judge allowed himself to be deceived.

"What can be the reason, my angel," said he, "that your father prevents your marrying? What can his motive be?"

"I know not, my lord," replied Zemroude; "I cannot conceive what his intentions can be; but I confess my patience is exhausted. I can no longer live in this state. I have found means to leave home, and I have escaped to throw myself into your arms, and to implore your help; take pity on me, I implore you, and interpose your authority, that justice may be done to me, otherwise I will not answer for my life."

"No, no," replied he, "you shall not die, neither shall you waste your youth in tears and sighs. It only remains with yourself to quit the darkness in which your perfections are buried, and to become this very day the wife of the cadi of Bagdad. Yes, lovely creature, more fair than the houris, I am ready to marry you, if you will consent."

"My lord," replied the lady, "even were not your station one of the most dignified and honourable in the city, I could have no objection to give you my hand, for you appear to be one of the most amiable of men; but I fear that you will not be able to obtain the consent of my father, notwithstanding the honour of the alliance."

"Don't trouble yourself upon that point," replied the judge, "I will pledge myself as to the issue; only tell me in what street your father lives, what his name is, and what his profession."

"His name is Ousta Omar," replied Zemroude; "he is a dyer, he lives upon the eastern quay of the Tigris, and in front of his door is a palm-tree laden with dates."

"That is enough," said the cadi; "you can return home now; you shall soon hear from me, depend upon my word."

The lady, after bestowing a gracious smile upon him, covered her face again with her veil, left the private chamber, and returned to me.

"We shall be revenged," she said, laughing gaily; "our enemy, who thought to make us the sport of the people, will himself become so."

The judge had scarcely lost sight of Zemroude, ere he sent an officer to Ousta Omar, who was at home. "You are to come to the cadi," said the man, "he desires to speak with you, and he commanded me to bring you before him." The dyer grew pale at these words, he thought that some one had lodged a complaint against him before the judge, and that it was on that account the officer had come to fetch him. He rose, however, and followed in silence, but in great uneasiness.

As soon as he appeared before the cadi, the judge ordered him into the same chamber where he had had the interview with Zemroude, and made him sit upon the same sofa. The artisan was so astonished at the honour paid him, that he changed colour several times.

"Master Omar," said the cadi, "I am glad to see you; I have heard you spoken very well of this long time past. I am informed that you are a man of good character, that you regularly say your prayers five times a day, and that you never fail to attend the great mosque on Friday; besides, I know that you never eat pork, and never drink wine nor date-spirits; in fact, that whilst you are at work one of your apprentices reads the Koran."

"That is true," replied the dyer; "I know above four thousand _hadits_ (sayings of Mahomet), and I am making preparations for a pilgrimage to Mecca."

"I assure you," replied the cadi, "that all this gives me the greatest pleasure, for I passionately love all good mussulmen. I am also informed that you keep concealed at home a daughter of an age to marry; is that true?"

"Great judge," answered Ousta Omar, "whose palace serves as a haven and refuge for the unfortunate who are tossed about by the storms of the world, they have told you true. I have a daughter who is old enough, in all conscience, to be married, for she is more than thirty years old; but the poor creature is not fit to be presented to a man, much less to so great a man as the cadi of Bagdad; she is ugly, or rather frightful, lame, covered with blotches, an idiot; in a word, she is a monster whom I cannot take too much pains to hide from the world."

"Indeed," said the cadi, "that is what I expected, master Omar. I was certain that you would thus praise your daughter; but know, my friend, that this blotchy, idiotic, lame, frightful person, in short, this monster, with all her defects, is loved to distraction by a man who desires her for his wife, and that man is myself."

At this speech the dyer seemed to doubt whether he were awake; he pinched himself, rubbed his eyes, and then looking the cadi full in the face, said,

"If my lord, the cadi, wishes to be merry, he is master; he may make a jest of my child as much as he pleases."

"No, no," replied the cadi, "I am not joking, I am in love with your daughter, and I ask her in marriage."

The artisan at these words burst into a fit of laughter. "By the prophet," cried he, "somebody wants to give you something to take care of. I give you fair warning, my lord, that my daughter has lost the use of her hands, is lame, dropsical."

"I know all about that," replied the judge, "I recognize her by her portrait. I have a peculiar liking for that sort of girls, they are my taste."

"I tell you," insisted the dyer, "she is not a fit match for you. Her name is Cayfacattaddhari (the monster of the age), and I must confess that her name is well chosen."

"Come, come!" replied the cadi, in an impatient and imperious tone, "this is enough, I am sick of all these objections. Master Omar, I ask you to give me this Cayfacattaddhari just as she is, so not another word."

The dyer, seeing him determined to espouse his daughter, and more than ever persuaded that some person had made him fall in love with her upon false representations for fun, said to himself, "I must ask him a heavy _scherbeha_ (dowry): the amount may disgust him, and he will think no more of her."

"My lord," said he, "I am prepared to obey you; but I will not part with Cayfacattaddhari unless you give me a dowry of a thousand golden sequins beforehand."

"That is rather a large sum," said the cadi, "still I will pay it you." He immediately ordered a large bagful of sequins to be brought, a thousand were counted out, which the dyer took after weighing them, and the judge then ordered the marriage contract to be drawn out. When, moreover, it was ready for signature, the artisan protested that he would not sign it except in the presence of a hundred lawyers at least.

"You are very distrustful," said the cadi; "but never mind, I will satisfy your wishes, for I don't intend to let your daughter slip through my fingers." He thereupon sent immediately for all the neighbouring doctors, alfayins, mollahs, persons connected with the mosques and courts of law, of whom far more crowded in than the dyer required.

When all the witnesses had arrived at the cadi's, Ousta Omar spoke thus,

"My lord cadi, I give you my daughter in marriage, since you absolutely require me to do so; but I declare before all these gentlemen that it is on condition, that if you are not satisfied with her when you see her, and you wish afterwards to repudiate her, you will give her a thousand gold sequins, such as I have received from you."

"Well! so be it," replied the cadi, "I promise it before all this assembly. Art thou content?" The dyer replied in the affirmative, and departed, saying that he would send the bride.

He had scarcely left the house before the enamoured judge gave orders to have an apartment furnished in the most splendid manner to receive his new bride. Velvet carpets were laid down, new draperies hung up, and sofas of silver brocade placed round the walls, whilst several braziers perfumed the chamber with delicious scents. All was at length in readiness, and the cadi impatiently awaited the arrival of Cayfacattaddhari. The fair bride, however, not making her appearance so speedily as his eagerness expected, he called his faithful aga, and said, "The lovely object of my affections ought to be here by this time, I think. What can detain her so long at her father's? How slow the moments appear which retard my happiness!" At length his impatience could brook no longer delay, and he was on the point of sending the aga to Ousta Omar's, when a porter arrived carrying a deal case covered with green taffeta.

"What hast thou got there, my friend," inquired the judge.

"My lord," replied the porter, placing the box on the ground, "it is your bride; you have only to take off the covering and you will see what she is like."

The cadi removed the cloth and saw a girl three feet and a half high: she had a lank visage covered with blotches, eyes sunk deep in their sockets and as red as fire, not the least vestige of a nose, but above her mouth two horrid wide nostrils like those of a crocodile. He could not look at this object without horror; he hastily replaced the cover, and, turning to the porter, cried,

"What am I to do with this miserable creature?"

"My lord," replied the porter, "it is the daughter of master Omar, the dyer, who told me you had married her from choice."

"Merciful heavens!" exclaimed the cadi, "is it possible to marry such a monster as that?"

At that moment the dyer, who had foreseen the surprise of the judge, arrived.

"Wretch," said the cadi, "what dost thou take me for? Thou certainly hast an amazing amount of impudence to dare to play me such a trick as this. Dost thou dare thus to treat me who have it in my power to revenge myself on my enemies; me who, when I please, can put the like of thee in fetters? Dread my wrath, wretch! Instead of the hideous monster which thou hast sent me, give me instantly thy other daughter, whose beauty is unparalleled, or thou shalt experience what an angry cadi can do!"

"My lord," replied Omar, "spare your threats, I beg, and don't be angry with me. I swear by the Creator of the light that I have no other daughter but this. I told you a thousand times that she would not suit you; you would not believe--whose fault is it?"

The cadi at these words felt his soul sink within him, and said to the dyer,

"Master Omar, a damsel of the most exquisite loveliness came here this morning and told me that you were her father, and that you represented her to the world as a perfect monster, indeed so much so, that no one would ask her in marriage."

"My lord," returned the dyer, "that girl must have been playing you a trick; you must have some enemy."

The cadi bent his head on his bosom, and remained some time in deep thought.

"It is a misfortune that was destined to befal me; let us say no more about it; have your daughter taken back home; keep the thousand sequins you have got, but don't ask for any more, if you wish us to be friends."

Although the judge had sworn before witnesses that he would give a thousand sequins more if Omar's daughter did not please him, the artisan did not dare to endeavour to compel him to keep his word, for he knew him to be a most vindictive man, and one who would easily find an opportunity of revenging himself upon any one he disliked, and was, of course, afraid to offend him. He thought it better to be content with what he had received.

"My lord," said he, "I will obey you, and relieve you of my daughter, but you must, if you please, divorce her first."

"Oh! true," said the cadi; "I have not the least objection; be assured that shall soon be done."

Accordingly, he instantly sent for his naib, and the divorce was made out in due form, after which master Omar took leave of the judge, and ordered the porter to bear the wretched Cayfacattaddhari back home.

This adventure was speedily noised all over the city. Every body laughed at it, and warmly applauded the trick which had been played upon the cadi, who could not escape the ridicule in which the whole city indulged at his expense. We carried our revenge still further. By Mouaffac's advice, I presented myself before the prince of the faithful, to whom I told my name and related my story. I did not suppress, as you may imagine, the circumstances which put the malice of the cadi in so strong a light. The caliph, after listening to me with the greatest attention, received me very graciously. "Prince," said he, "why did you not come at once to me? Doubtless you were ashamed of your condition, but you might, without a blush, have presented yourself before my face, even in your wretched state. Does it depend upon men themselves to be happy or unhappy? Is it not Allah that spins the thread of our destiny? Ought you to have feared an ungracious reception? No! You know that I love and esteem king Ben-Ortoc, your father; my court was a safe asylum for you."

The caliph embraced me, and conferred on me a _gulute_ (robe of honour) and a beautiful diamond which he wore on his finger. He regaled me with excellent sherbet, and when I returned to my father-in-law's house, I found six large bales of Persian brocade, gold and silver, two pieces of damask, and a beautiful Persian horse richly caparisoned. In addition, he reinstated Mouaffac in the government of Bagdad; and as to the cadi, by way of punishment for his malicious attempt to deceive Zemroude and her father, he deposed him, and condemned him to perpetual imprisonment, and, to crown his misery, ordered him as a companion in his confinement the daughter of Ousta Omar.

A few days after my marriage, I sent a courier to Moussul, to inform my father of all that had happened to me since my departure from his court, and to assure him that I would return shortly, with the lady whom I had married. I waited most impatiently for the return of the courier; but, alas! he brought me back news which deeply afflicted me. He informed me that Ben-Ortoc having heard that four thousand Bedouin Arabs had attacked me, and that my escort had been cut to pieces, persuaded that I no longer lived, took my supposed death so much to heart that he died; that prince Amadeddin Zingui, my cousin-german, occupied the throne; that he reigned with equity; and that, nevertheless, although he was generally beloved, the people no sooner learned that I was still alive, than they gave themselves up to the greatest joy. Prince Amadeddin himself, in a letter which the courier placed in my hands, assured me of his fidelity, and expressed his impatience for my return, in order that he might restore the crown to me, and become the first subject in my dominions.

This news decided me to hasten my return to Moussul. I took my leave of the prince of the faithful, who ordered a detachment of three thousand cavalry of his own guard to escort me to my kingdom, and, after embracing Mouaffac and his wife, I departed from Bagdad with my beloved Zemroude, who would almost have died of grief at the separation from her parents, if her love for me had not somewhat moderated the violence of her sorrow. About halfway between Bagdad and Moussul, the vanguard of my escort discovered a body of troops marching towards us. Concluding at once that it was a body of Bedouin Arabs, I immediately drew up my men, and was fully prepared for the attack, when my scouts brought me word, that those whom we had taken for robbers and enemies were, in fact, troops from Moussul, who had set out to meet me, with Amadeddin at their head.

This prince, on his part, having learned who we were, left his little army to meet me, accompanied by the principal nobles of Moussul. When he reached the spot where I was awaiting him, he addressed me in the same tone in which his letter had been couched, submissively and respectfully, whilst all the nobles who accompanied him assured me of their zeal and fidelity. I thought it my duty to show my entire confidence in them, by dismissing the soldiers of the caliph's guard. I had no reason to repent of this step; far from being capable of forming any treacherous design, prince Amadeddin did all in his power to give me proofs of his attachment.

When we came to Moussul, our safe and auspicious arrival was celebrated by gifts to the mosques, abundant alms to the poor, fêtes, and an illumination of the palace gardens with lamps of a thousand different colours. The people in general testified the delight they felt at my return by acclamations, and for a space of three days gave themselves up entirely to great rejoicings. The booths of the itinerant merchants, and the bazaars, were hung within and without with draperies, and at night they were lit up by lamps, which formed the letters of a verse of the Koran, so that every shop having its particular verse, this holy book was to be read entire in the city; and it appeared as though the angel Gabriel had brought it a second time in letters of light to our great prophet.

In addition to this pious illumination, before each shop were placed large dishes, plates of pillau, of all sorts of colours, in the form of pyramids, and huge bowls of sherbet and pomegranate juice, for the passers-by to eat and drink at pleasure. In all the cross streets were to be seen dancers, displaying their graceful evolutions to the sounds of drums, lutes, and tambourines.

The different trades formed a procession, consisting of cars decorated with tinsel and many-coloured flags, and with the tools used in their trades; and after traversing the principal streets, defiled to the music of pipes, cymbals, and trumpets, before my balcony, where Zemroude was sitting by my side, and after saluting us, shouted at the top of their voices, "Blessing and health to thee, Apostle of God, God give the king victory."

It was not enough for me to share these honours with the daughter of Mouaffac, my study was to find out every thing that would afford her any pleasure. I caused her apartments to be adorned with every thing most rare and pleasing to the sight. Her suite was composed of twenty-five young Circassian ladies, slaves in my father's harem; some sang and played the lute exquisitely, others excelled on the harp, and the rest danced with the greatest grace and lightness. I also gave her a black aga, with twelve eunuchs, who all possessed some talent which might contribute to her amusement.

I reigned over faithful and devoted subjects; every day I loved Zemroude more and more, and she as ardently reciprocated my attachment.

My days passed thus in perfect happiness, till one day a young dervise appeared at my court. He introduced himself to the principal nobles, and gained their friendship by his pleasing and agreeable manners, as well as by his wit and his happy and brilliant repartees. He accompanied them to the chase, he entered into all their gaieties, and was a constant guest at their parties of pleasure. Every day some of my courtiers spoke to me of him as a man of charming manners, so that at last they excited in me a desire to see and converse with the agreeable stranger. Far from finding his portrait overdrawn, he appeared to me even more accomplished than they had represented him. His conversation charmed me, and I was disabused of an error into which many persons of quality fall, namely, that men of wit and high sentiment are only to be met with at court. I experienced so much pleasure in the company of the dervise, and he seemed so well suited to manage affairs of the greatest importance, that I wished to appoint him my minister, but he thanked me, and told me he had made a vow never to accept any employment, that he preferred a free and independent life, that he despised honours and riches, and was content with what God, who cares for the lowest animals, should provide for him; in a word, he was content with his condition.

I admired a man so much raised above worldly considerations, and conceived the greatest esteem for him; I received him with pleasure each time he presented himself at court; if he was among the crowd of courtiers my eyes sought him out, and to him I most frequently addressed myself; I insensibly became so attached to him, that I made him my exclusive favourite.

One day during a hunt, I had strayed from the main body of my followers, and the dervise was alone with me. He began by relating his travels, for although young he had travelled extensively. He spoke of several curious things he had seen in India, and, amongst others, of an old Bramin whom he knew. "This great man," said he, "knew an infinity of secrets, each more extraordinary than the former. Nature had no mystery but what he could fathom. He died in my arms," said the dervise, "but as he loved me, before he expired he said, 'My son, I wish to teach you a secret by which you may remember me, but it is on condition that you reveal it to no one.' I promised to keep it inviolate, and on the faith of my promise he taught me the secret."

"Indeed!" said I, "what is the nature of the secret? Is it the secret of making gold?"

"No, sire," replied he, "it is a greater and much more precious secret than that. It is the power of reanimating a dead body. Not that I can restore the same soul to the body it has left, Heaven alone can perform that miracle; but I can cause my soul to enter into a body deprived of life, and I will prove it to your highness whenever you shall please."

"Most willingly!" said I, "now, if you please."

At that moment there passed by us most opportunely a doe; I let fly an arrow, which struck her, and she fell dead. "Now let me see," said I, "if you can reanimate this creature."

"Sire," replied the dervise, "your curiosity shall soon be gratified; watch well what I am about to do."

He had scarcely uttered these words, when I beheld with amazement his body fall suddenly without animation, and at the same moment I saw the doe rise with great nimbleness. I will leave you to judge of my surprise. Although there was no room left to doubt what I beheld, I could hardly believe the evidence of my senses. The creature, however, came to me, fondled me, and after making several bounds, fell dead again, and immediately the body of the dervise, which lay stretched at my feet, became reanimated.

I was delighted at so wonderful a secret, and entreated the dervise to impart it to me.

"Sire," said he, "I deeply regret that I cannot comply with your desire; for I promised the dying Bramin not to disclose it to any one, and I am a slave to my word."

The more the dervise excused himself from satisfying my wishes, the more did I feel my curiosity excited.

"In the name of Allah," said I, "do not refuse to comply with my entreaties. I promise thee never to divulge the secret, and I swear by Him who created us both never to employ it to a bad purpose."

The dervise considered a moment, then turning to me said,

"I cannot resist the wishes of a king whom I love more than my life; I will yield to your desire. It is true," added he, "that I only gave a simple promise to the Bramin. I did not bind myself by an inviolable oath. I will impart my secret to your highness. It consists only in remembering two words; it is sufficient to repeat them mentally to be able to reanimate a dead body."

He then taught me the two magic words. I no sooner knew them, than I burned to test their power. I pronounced them, with the intention to make my soul pass into the body of the doe, and in a moment I found myself metamorphosed into the animal. But the delight I experienced at the success of the trial was soon converted into consternation; for no sooner had my spirit entered into the body of the doe, than the dervise caused his to pass into mine, and then suddenly drawing my bow, the traitor was on the point of shooting me with one of my own arrows, when, perceiving his intention, I took to flight, and by my speed just escaped the fatal shaft. Nevertheless, he let fly the arrow at me with so true an aim, that it just grazed my shoulder.

I now beheld myself reduced to live with the beasts of the forests and mountains. Happier for me would it have been if I had resembled them more perfectly, and if in losing my human form, I had at the same time lost my power of reason. I should not then have been the prey to a thousand miserable reflections.

Whilst I was deploring my misery in the forests, the dervise was occupying the throne of Moussul; and fearing that, as I possessed the secret as well as himself, I might find means to introduce myself into the palace, and take my revenge upon him, on the very day he usurped my place he ordered all the deer in the kingdom to be destroyed, wishing, as he said, to exterminate the whole species, which he mortally hated. Nay, so eager was he for my destruction, that the moment he returned from the hunting expedition, he again set out at the head of a large body of followers, intent upon the indiscriminate slaughter of all the deer they might meet.

The people of Moussul, animated by the hope of gain, spread themselves all over the country with their bows and arrows; they scoured the forests, over-ran the mountains, and shot every stag and deer they met with. Happily, by this time I had nothing to fear from them; for, having seen a dead nightingale lying at the foot of a tree, I reanimated it, and under my new shape flew towards the palace of my enemy, and concealed myself among the thick foliage of a tree in the garden. This tree was not far from the apartments of the queen. There, thinking upon my misfortune, I poured forth in tender strains the melancholy that consumed me. It was one morning, as the sun rose, and already several birds, delighted to see its returning beams, expressed their joy by their minstrelsy. For my part, taken up with my griefs, I paid no attention to the brightness of the newborn day; but with my eyes sadly turned towards Zemroude's apartment, I poured forth so plaintive a song, that I attracted the attention of the princess, who came to the window. I continued my mournful notes in her presence, and I tried all the means in my power to render them more and more touching, as though I could make her comprehend the subject of my grief. But, alas! although she took pleasure in listening to me, I had the mortification to see, that instead of being moved by my piteous accents, she only laughed with one of her slaves, who had come to the window to listen to me.

I did not leave the garden that day, nor for several following, and I took care to sing every morning at the same spot. Zemroude did not fail to come to the window; and at length, by the blessing of Providence, took a fancy to have me. One morning she said to her female attendants, "I wish that nightingale to be caught; let birdcatchers be sent for. I love that bird; I doat upon it; let them try every means to catch it, and bring it to me." The queen's orders were obeyed; expert birdcatchers were found, who laid traps for me, and, as I had no desire to escape, because I saw that their only object in depriving me of my liberty was to make me a slave to my princess, I allowed myself to be taken. The moment I was brought to her she took me in her hand, with every symptom of delight. "My darling," said she, caressing me, "my charming bul-bul, I will be thy rose; I already feel the greatest tenderness for thee." At these words she kissed me. I raised my beak softly to her lips. "Ah! the little rogue," cried she laughing, "he appears to know what I say." At last, after fondling me, she placed me in a gold filigree cage, which an eunuch had been sent into the city to buy for me.

Every day as soon as she woke I began my song; and whenever she came to my cage to caress me or feed me, far from appearing wild, I spread out my wings, and stretched my beak towards her, to express my joy. She was surprised to see me so tame in so short a time. Sometimes she would take me out of the cage, and allow me to fly about her chamber. I always went to her to receive her caresses, and to lavish mine upon her; and if any of her slaves wished to take hold of me, I pecked at them with all my might. By these little insinuating ways I endeared myself so much to Zemroude, that she often said if by any mishap I were to die, she should be inconsolable, so strong was her attachment to me.

Zemroude also had a little dog in her chamber, of which she was very fond. One day, when the dog and I were alone, it died. Its death suggested to me the idea of making a third experiment of the secret. "I will pass into the body of the dog," thought I, "for I wish to see what effect the death of her nightingale will produce upon the princess." I cannot tell what suggested the fancy, for I did not foresee what this new metamorphosis would lead to; but the thought appeared to me a suggestion of Heaven, and I followed it at all risks.

When Zemroude returned to the room, her first care was to come to my cage. As soon as she perceived that the nightingale was dead, she uttered a shriek that brought all her slaves about her. "What ails you, madam?" said they in terrified accents. "Has any misfortune happened to you?"

"I am in despair," replied the princess, weeping bitterly; "my nightingale is dead. My dear bird, my little husband, why art thou taken from, me so soon? I shall no more hear your sweet notes! I shall never see you again! What have I done to deserve such punishment from Heaven?"

All the efforts of her women to console her were in vain. The dervise had just returned from his murderous expedition, and one of them ran to acquaint him with the state in which they had found the queen. He quickly came and told her that the death of a bird ought not to cause her so much grief; that the loss was not irreparable; that if she was so fond of nightingales, and wanted another, it was easy to get one. But all his reasoning was to no purpose, he could make no impression upon her.

"Cease your endeavours," she exclaimed, "to combat my grief, you will never overcome it. I know it is a great weakness to mourn so for a bird, I am as fully persuaded of it as you can be, still I cannot bear up against the force of the blow that has overwhelmed me. I loved the little creature; he appeared sensible of the caresses I bestowed on him, and he returned them in a way that delighted me. If my women approached him, he exhibited ferocity, or rather disdain; whereas he always came eagerly on to my hand when I held it out to him. It appeared as though he felt affection for me, he looked at me in so tender and languishing a manner, that it almost seemed as though he was mortified that he had not the power of speech to express his feelings towards me. I could read it in his eyes. Ah! I shall never think of him without despair." As she finished speaking her tears gushed out afresh, and she seemed as if nothing could ever console her.

I drew a favourable omen from the violence of her grief. I had laid myself down in a corner of the room, where I heard all that was said and observed all that passed without their noticing me. I had a presentiment that the dervise, in order to console the queen, would avail himself of the secret, and I was not disappointed.

Finding the queen inaccessible to reason, and being deeply enamoured of her, he was moved by her tears, and instead of persevering in fruitless arguments, he ordered the queen's slaves to quit the room and leave him alone with her. "Madam," said he, thinking that no one overheard him, "since the death of your nightingale causes you so much sorrow, he must be brought to life. Do not grieve, you shall see him alive again; I pledge myself to restore him to you; to-morrow morning, when you wake, you shall hear him sing again, and you shall have the satisfaction of caressing him."

"I understand you, my lord," said Zemroude; "you look upon me as crazed, and think that you must humour my sorrow; you would persuade me that I shall see my nightingale alive to-morrow; to-morrow you will postpone your miracle till the following day, and so on from one day to another; by this means you reckon on making me gradually forget my bird; or, perhaps," pursued she, "you intend to get another put in his place to deceive me."

"No, my queen," replied the dervise, "no; it is that very bird which you see stretched out in his cage without life; this very nightingale, the enviable object of such poignant grief; it is that very bird himself that shall sing. I will give him new life, and you can again lavish your caresses upon him. He will better appreciate that delight, and you shall behold him still more anxious to please you, for it will be I myself who will be the object of your endearments; every morning I will myself be his fresh life in order to divert you. I can perform this miracle," continued he; "it is a secret I possess; if you have any doubts upon it, or if you are impatient to behold your favourite reanimated, I will cause him to revive now immediately."

As the princess did not reply, he imagined from her silence that she was not fully persuaded he could accomplish what he professed; he seated himself on the sofa, and by virtue of the two cabalistic words left his body, or rather mine, and entered into that of the nightingale. The bird began to sing in its cage to the great amazement of Zemroude. But his song was not destined to continue long; for no sooner did he begin to warble than I quitted the body of the dog and hastened to retake my own. At the same time running to the cage, I dragged the bird out and wrung his neck. "What have you done, my lord?" cried the princess. "Why have you treated my nightingale thus? If you did not wish him to live, why did you restore him to life?"

"I thank Heaven!" cried I, without paying any regard to what she said, so much were my thoughts taken up with the feeling of vengeance which possessed me at the treacherous conduct of the dervise, "I am satisfied. I have at length avenged myself on the villain whose execrable treason deserved a still greater punishment."

If Zemroude was surprised to see her nightingale restored to life, she was not the less so to hear me utter these words with such fierce emotion.

"My lord," said she, "whence this violent transport which agitates you, and what do those words mean which you have just spoken?"

I related to her all that had happened to me, and she could not doubt that I was truly Al Abbas, because she had heard that the body of the dervise had been found in the forest, and she was also of course well acquainted with the order which he had given for destroying all the deer.

But my poor princess could not recover the shock her sensitive love had sustained. A few days after she fell ill, and died in my arms, literally frightened to death by the imminence of the danger from which she had just been so happily rescued.

After I had bewailed her, and erected a splendid tomb to her memory, I summoned the prince Amadeddin.

"My cousin," said I, "I have no children, I resign the crown of Moussul in your favour. I give the kingdom up into your hands. I renounce the regal dignity, and wish to pass the rest of my days in repose and privacy." Amadeddin, who really loved me, spared no arguments to deter me from taking the step I proposed, but I assured him that nothing could shake my resolution.

"Prince," said I, "my determination is fixed, I resign my rank to you. Fill the throne of Al Abbas, and may you be more happy than he. Reign over a people who know your merit, and have already experienced the blessings of your rule. Disgusted with pomp, I shall retire to distant climes, and live in privacy; there freed from the cares of state, I shall mourn over the memory of Zemroude, and recall the happy days we passed together."

I left Amadeddin upon the throne of Moussul, and, accompanied only by a few slaves, and carrying an ample supply of riches and jewels, took the road to Bagdad, where I arrived safely. I immediately repaired to Mouaffac's house. His wife and he were not a little surprised to see me, and they were deeply affected when I informed them of the death of their daughter, whom they had tenderly loved. The recital unlocked the fountains of my own grief, and I mingled my tears with theirs. I did not stay long in Bagdad, I joined a caravan of pilgrims going to Mecca, and after paying my devotions, found, by chance, another company of pilgrims from Tartary, whom I accompanied to their native country. We arrived in this city; I found the place agreeable, and took up my abode here, where I have resided for nearly forty years. I am thought to be a stranger who was formerly concerned in trade, and whose time is now passed in study and contemplation. I lead a retired life, and rarely see strangers. Zemroude is ever present to my thoughts, and my only consolation consists in dwelling fondly upon her memory and her virtues.

CONTINUATION OF THE STORY OF PRINCE KHALAF AND THE PRINCESS OF CHINA.

Al Abbas, having finished the recital of his adventures, thus addressed his guests:

"Such is my history. You perceive by my misfortunes and your own, that human life is but as a reed, ever liable to be bent to the earth by the bleak blasts of misfortune. I will, however, confess to you that I have led a happy and quiet life ever since I have been in Jaic; and that I by no means repent having abdicated the throne of Moussul; for in the obscurity in which I now live, I have discovered peaceful and tranquil joys which I never experienced before."

Timurtasch, Elmaze, and Khalaf bestowed a thousand flattering encomiums upon the son of Ben-Ortoc; the khan admired the resolution which had caused him to deprive himself of his kingdom, in order to live in privacy in a country of strangers, where the station which he had filled in the world was unknown. Elmaze praised the fidelity he displayed towards Zemroude, and the grief he experienced at her death. And Khalaf remarked, "My lord, it were to be wished that all men could display the same constancy in adversity which you have done, under your misfortunes."

They continued their conversation till it was time to retire. Al Abbas then summoned his slaves, who brought wax-lights in candlesticks made of aloe-wood, and conducted the khan, the princess, and her son to a suite of apartments, where the same simplicity reigned that characterized the rest of the house. Elmaze and Timurtasch retired to sleep in a chamber appropriated to themselves, and Khalaf to another. The following morning their host entered the chamber of his guests as soon as they were up, and said,

"You are not the only unfortunate persons in the world; I have just been informed that an ambassador from the sultan of Carisma arrived in the city last evening; that his master has sent him to Ileuge-Khan, to beg of him not only to refuse an asylum to the khan of the Nagäis, his enemy, but if the khan should endeavour to pass through his dominions, to arrest him. Indeed, it is reported," pursued Al Abbas, "that the unfortunate khan, for fear of falling into the hands of the sultan of Carisma, has left his capital and fled with his family." At this news, Timurtasch and Khalaf changed colour, and the princess fainted.

The swoon of Elmaze, as well as the evident trouble of the father and son, instantly caused Al Abbas to suspect that his guests were not merchants.

"I see," said he, as soon as the princess had recovered her senses, "that you take a deep interest in the misfortunes of the khan of the Nagäis; indeed, if I may be permitted to tell you what I think, I believe you are yourselves the objects of the sultan of Carisma's hatred."

"Yes, my lord," replied Timurtasch, "we are, indeed, the victims for whose immolation he is thirsty. I am the khan of the Nagäis, you behold my wife and my son; we should, indeed, be ungrateful, if we did not discover our position to you, after your generous reception, and the confidence you have reposed in us. I am encouraged even to hope, that by your counsels you will aid us to escape from the danger which threatens us."

"Your situation is most critical," replied the aged king of Moussul; "I know Ileuge-Khan well, and, as he fears the sultan of Carisma, I cannot doubt that, to please him, he will search for you every where. You will not be safe, either in my house or in any other in this city; the only resource left you, is to leave the country of Jaic as speedily as possible, cross the river Irtisch, and gain, with the utmost diligence, the frontiers of the tribe of the Berlas."

This advice pleased Timurtasch, his wife, and son. Al Abbas had three horses instantly got ready, together with provisions for the journey, and giving them a purse filled with gold; "Start immediately," said he, "you have no time to lose, by to-morrow, no doubt, Ileuge-Khan will cause search to be made for you every where."

They returned their heartfelt thanks to the aged monarch, and then quitted Jaic, crossed the Irtisch, and joining company with a camel-driver, who was travelling that way, arrived after several days' journey in the territories of the tribe of Berlas. They took up their quarters with the first horde they met, sold their horses, and lived quietly enough as long as their money lasted; but, as soon as it came to an end, the misery of the khan recommenced. "Why am I still in the world?" he began to exclaim. "Would it not have been better to have awaited my blood-thirsty foe in my own kingdom, and have died defending my capital, than to drag on a life which is only one continued scene of misery? It is in vain that we endure our misfortunes with patience; for, in spite of our submission to its decrees, Heaven will never restore us to happiness, but leaves us still the sport of misery."

"My lord," replied Khalaf, "do not despair of our miseries coming to an end. Heaven, which decrees these events, is preparing for us, I doubt not, some relief which we cannot foresee. Let us proceed at once," added he, "to the principal horde of this tribe. I have a presentiment, that our fortunes will now assume a more favourable aspect."

They all three proceeded accordingly to the horde with whom the khan of Berlas resided. They entered a large tent which served as a refuge for poor strangers. Here they laid themselves down, worn out with their journey, and at a loss at last to know how to obtain even the necessaries of life. Khalaf, however, quietly slipt out of the tent, leaving his father and mother there, and went through the horde, asking charity of the passers-by. By the evening he had collected a small sum of money, with which he bought some provisions, and carried them to his parents. When they learned that their son had actually solicited charity, they could not refrain from tears. Khalaf himself was moved by their grief, but cheerfully remarked, nevertheless, "I confess that nothing we have yet endured has appeared to me more mortifying than to be reduced to solicit alms; still, as at present I cannot procure you subsistence by any other means, is it not my duty to do it, in spite of the mortification it costs me? But," he added, as though struck with a sudden thought, "there is still another resource--sell me for a slave, and the money you will receive will last you a long time."

"What do you say, my son?" cried Timurtasch, when he heard these words. "Can you propose to us that we should live at the expense of your liberty? Ah! rather let us endure for ever our present misery. But if it should come to this, that one of us must be sold, let it be myself; I do not refuse to bear the yoke of servitude for you both."

"My lord," said Khalaf, "another thought strikes me; to-morrow morning I will take my station among the porters; some one may chance to employ me, and we may thus earn a living by my labour." They agreed to this, and the following day the prince stationed himself among the porters of the horde, and waited till some one should employ him; but unfortunately no one wanted him, so that half the day passed and he had not had a single job. This grieved him deeply. "If I am not more successful than this," thought he, "how am I to support my father and mother?"

He grew tired of waiting among the porters on the chance of some person wanting his services. He went out of the encampment and strolled into the country, in order to turn over in his mind undisturbedly the best means of earning a livelihood. He sat down under a tree, where, after praying Heaven to have pity on his perplexity, he fell asleep. When he woke he saw near him a falcon of singular beauty: its head was adorned with a tuft of gaudy feathers, and from its neck hung a chain of gold filigree-work set with diamonds, topazes, and rubies. Khalaf, who understood falconry, held out his fist, and the bird alighted on it. The prince of the Nagäis was delighted at the circumstance. "Let us see," said he, "what this will lead to. This bird, from all appearance, belongs to the sovereign of the tribe." Nor was he wrong. It was the favourite falcon of Almguer, khan of Berlas, who had lost it the previous day. His principal huntsmen were engaged at that moment in searching every where for it with the greatest diligence and uneasiness, for their master had threatened them with the severest punishments if they returned without his bird, which he loved passionately.

Prince Khalaf returned to the encampment with the falcon. As soon as the people of the horde saw it, they began to cry out, "Ha! here is the khan's falcon recovered. Blessings on the youth who will make our prince rejoice by restoring him his bird." And so it turned out, for when Khalaf arrived at the royal tent, and appeared with the falcon, the khan, transported with joy, ran to his bird and kissed it a thousand times. Then addressing the prince of the Nagäis, he asked him where he found it. Khalaf related how he had recovered the falcon. The khan then said to him, "Thou appearest to be a stranger amongst us; where wast thou born, and what is thy profession?"

"My lord," replied Khalaf, prostrating himself at the khan's feet, "I am the son of a merchant of Bulgaria, who was possessed of great wealth. I was travelling with my father and mother in the country of Jaic, when we were attacked by robbers, who stripped us of every thing but our lives, and we have found our way to this encampment actually reduced to beg our bread."

"Young man," replied the khan, "I am glad that it is thou who hast found my falcon; for I swore to grant to whomsoever should bring me my bird, whatever two things he might ask; so thou hast but to speak. Tell me what thou desirest me to grant thee, and doubt not that thou shalt obtain it." "Since I have permission to ask two things," returned Khalaf, "I request in the first place that my father and mother, who are in the strangers' tent, may have a tent to themselves in the quarter where your highness resides, and that they may be supported during the rest of their days at your highness's expense, and waited on by officers of your highness's household; secondly, I desire to have one of the best horses in your highness's stables and a purse full of gold, to enable me to make a journey which I have in contemplation." "Thy wishes shall be gratified," said Almguer; "thou shalt bring thy father and mother to me, and from this day forth I will begin to entertain them as thou desirest; and to-morrow, dressed in rich attire, and mounted on the best horse in my stables, thou shalt be at liberty to go wherever it shall please thee. Thy modesty, the filial love which is imprinted upon thy features, thy youth, thy noble air, please me; be my guest, come and join my festivities, and thou shalt listen to an Arabian story-teller, whose knowledge and imaginative powers instruct and amuse my tribes."

The khan and the son of Timurtasch presently seated themselves at a table loaded with viands, confectionary, fruit, and flowers; gazelle venison, red-legged partridges, pheasants, and black cock were displayed as trophies of the skill of the hunter king. The Arab stationed near the khan awaited his orders. "Moustapha," said the khan at length, turning to the Arab, "I have been extolling thy knowledge and wit to my guest; surpass thyself, and let him see that I have not exaggerated. He shall give thee a subject; treat it in such a manner as to deserve his praise."

"I am curious," said the prince, "to hear of China; I ask thee to instruct me concerning the government of that important kingdom, and to give me an insight into the manners and customs of its people."

The Arab reflected a moment, and then, prefacing his recital with a few general remarks, proceeded to depict in glowing colours this celestial empire, whose civilization dates back to the remotest ages of the world. He described its extent as equal to one-half of the habitable globe; its population as so numerous that it might be counted by hundreds of millions; he spoke of cities, each of which alone brought a revenue to their crown, which surpassed that of entire kingdoms; of those gigantic works, the canals, whose extent equalled the course of the largest rivers, which traversed the vast empire. And he foretold that a time would come when Tartar warriors should scale that very wall which the terror of their arms had caused to be built, and should again reconquer the whole of that wealthy tract. He then began his story as follows.

THE STORY OF LIN-IN.

A CHINESE TALE.

At Wou-si, a town dependent upon the city of Tchang-tcheou, in the province of Kiang-nan, there resided a family in the middle sphere of life. Three brothers composed the family; the name of the eldest was Lin-in (the jasper); the second Lin-pao (the precious); the youngest Lin-tchin (the pearl); this last was not yet old enough to marry; the other two had taken wives to themselves. The wife of the first was named Wang; the wife of the second Yang; and both possessed every grace which can constitute the charm of woman.

Lin-pao's engrossing passions were gambling and wine; he evinced no inclination to good. His wife was of a similar disposition, and depraved in her conduct; she was very different from her sister-in-law Wang, who was a pattern of modesty and propriety. So although these two women lived together on neighbourly terms, there was but little real sympathy between them.

Wang had a son named Hi-eul, that is to say, "the son of rejoicing." He was a child of six years old. One day having stopped in the street with some other children, to look at a great procession in the neighbourhood, he was lost in the crowd, and in the evening did not return to the house.

This loss caused the deepest sorrow to his parents. They had handbills posted up, and there was not a street in which they did not make inquiries, but all to no purpose; they could gain no intelligence respecting their darling child. Lin-in was inconsolable; and giving way to the grief that overwhelmed him, he sought to fly from his home, where every thing brought back the remembrance of his dear Hi-eul. He borrowed a sum of money from one of his friends to enable him to carry on a small trade in the neighbourhood of the city and the adjacent villages, hoping that in one of these short excursions he might be able to recover the treasure he had lost.

As his whole thoughts were taken up with his child, he took little pleasure in the circumstance that his trade flourished. He nevertheless continued to pursue it during five years, without making long journeys from home, whither he returned every year to spend the autumn. At length, being utterly unsuccessful in discovering the least trace of his son after so many years, and concluding that he was lost to him for ever, and finding moreover that his wife Wang bore him no more children, as he had now amassed a good sum of money, he determined to divert his thoughts from painful recollections by trading in another province.

He joined the company of a rich merchant travelling the road he had fixed upon; and the merchant, having observed his aptitude for business, made him a very advantageous offer. The desire of becoming wealthy now took possession of him, and diverted his thoughts from their accustomed channel.

Within a very short time after their arrival in the province of Chan-si every thing had succeeded to their utmost wishes. They found a quick sale for their merchandise, and the profits arising from it was considerable. The payments, however, were delayed for two years in consequence of a drought and famine which afflicted the country, as well as by a tedious illness by which Lin-in was attacked. They were detained altogether three years in the province; after which, having recovered his money and his health, he took his departure to return to his own country.

He halted one day during his journey near a place named Tchin-lieou to recruit his strength, and strolling round the neighbourhood accidentally came upon a girdle of blue cloth, in the form of a long, narrow bag, such as is worn round the body, under the dress, and in which money is usually kept; as he took it up, he found the weight considerable. He retired to a quiet spot, opened the girdle, and found it contained about two hundred täels.

At sight of this treasure he fell into the following train of reflection: "My good fortune has placed this sum in my hands; I might keep it and employ it for my own use without fearing any unpleasant consequences. Still the person who has dropt it, the moment he discovers his loss, will be in great distress, and will return in haste to look for it. Do they not say that our forefathers dared scarcely touch money found in this way; and if they picked it up, only did so with a view of restoring it to its owner? This appears to me a very praiseworthy custom, and I will imitate it, the more so as I am growing old and have no heir. Of what benefit would money got by such means be to me?"

Whilst thus reasoning, he had wandered to some distance from the spot where he had found the money; he now, however, retraced his steps to the place, and waited there the whole day, to be ready in case the owner should return. Nobody came, however, and the next day he continued his journey.

After five days' travelling, he arrived in the evening at Nan-sou-tcheou, and took up his quarters at an inn where several other merchants were staying. The conversation having turned upon the advantages of commerce, one of the company said, "Five days ago, on leaving Tchin-lieou, I lost two hundred täels, which I had in an inside girdle. I had taken it off, and placed it near me whilst I lay down to sleep, when a mandarin and his cortége chanced to pass by. I hastened to get out of the way for fear of insult, and in my hurry forgot to take up my money. It was only at night, as I was undressing to go to bed, that I discovered my loss. I felt sure that as the place where I lost my money was by the side of a well-frequented road, it would be useless to delay my journey for several days in order to look for what I should never find."

Every one condoled with him on his loss. Lin-in asked him his name and place of abode. "Your servant," replied the merchant, "is named Tchin, and lives at Yang-tcheou, where he has a shop and a large warehouse. May I be so bold in return to inquire to whom I have the honour of speaking?" Lin-in told him his name, and said that he was an inhabitant of the town of Wou-si. "My shortest road there," added he, "lies through Yang-tcheou; and, if agreeable to you, I shall have much pleasure in your company so far."

Tchin acknowledged this politeness in a becoming manner. "Most willingly," said he; "we will continue our journey together, and I esteem myself very fortunate in meeting with such an agreeable companion." The journey was not long, and they soon arrived at Yang-tcheou.

After the usual civilities, Tchin invited his fellow-traveller to his house, and on their arrival there immediately ordered refreshments to be brought. Whilst they were discussing their meal, Lin-in managed to turn the conversation on the subject of the lost money.

"What," he asked, "was the colour of the girdle which contained your money, and of what material was it made?"

"It was of blue cloth," replied Tchin; "and what would enable me to identify it is, that at one end the letter Tchin, which is my name, is embroidered upon it in white silk."

This description left no doubt as to the owner. Lin-in, therefore, rejoined in a cheerful tone, "If I have asked you all these questions, it was merely because passing through Tchin-lieou, I found a belt such as you describe." At the same time producing it, he added, "Look if this is yours." "The very same," said Tchin. Whereupon Lin-in politely restored it to its owner.

Tchin, overwhelmed with gratitude, pressed him to accept the half of the sum which it contained; but his entreaties were in vain, Lin-in would receive nothing. "What obligations am I not under to you?" resumed Tchin; "where else should I find such honesty and generosity?" He then ordered a splendid repast to be brought, over which they pledged each other with great demonstrations of friendship.

Tchin thought to himself, "Where should I find a man of such probity as Lin-in? Men of his character are very scarce in these days. What! shall I receive from him such an act of kindness, and not be able to repay him? I have a daughter twelve years old; I must form an alliance with such an honest man. But has he got a son? On this point I am entirely ignorant."

"My dear friend," said he, "how old is your son?"

This question brought tears into the eyes of Lin-in. "Alas!" replied he, "I had but one, who was most dear to me. It is now eight years ago since my child, having run out of the house to see a procession pass by, disappeared; and from that day to this I have never been able to learn any thing of him; and, to crown my misfortune, my wife has not borne me any more children."

Upon hearing this, Tchin appeared to think for a moment, then, continuing the conversation, said, "My brother and benefactor, of what age was the child when you lost him?" "About six years old," replied Lin-in. "What was his name?" "We called him Hi-eul," returned Lin-in. "He had escaped all the dangers of the small-pox which had left no traces upon his countenance; his complexion was clear and florid."

This description gave the greatest pleasure to Tchin, and he could not prevent his satisfaction from displaying itself in his looks and manner. He immediately called one of his servants, to whom he whispered a few words. The servant, having made a gesture of obedience, retired into the interior of the house.

Lin-in, struck by the questions, and the joy which lit up the countenance of his host, was forming all sorts of conjectures, when he saw a youth of about fourteen years of age enter the room. He was dressed in a long gown, with a plain though neat jacket. His graceful form, his air and carriage, his face with its regular features, and his quick and piercing eyes, and finely arched black eyebrows, at once engaged the admiration and riveted the attention of Lin-in.

As soon as the youth saw the stranger seated at table, he turned towards him, made a low bow, and uttered some respectful words; then approaching Tchin, and standing modestly before him, he said in a sweet and pleasing tone, "My father, you have called Hi-eul; what are you pleased to command?" "I will tell you presently," replied Tchin, "in the mean time stand beside me."

The name of Hi-eul, by which the youth called himself, excited fresh suspicions in the breast of Lin-in. A secret sympathy suddenly forced itself upon him; and by one of those wonderful instincts of nature which are so unerring, recalled to his recollection the image of his lost child, his form, his face, his air, and manners; he beheld them all in the youth before him. There was but one circumstance that made him doubt the truth of his conjectures, and that was his addressing Tchin by the name of 'father.' He felt it would be rude to ask Tchin if the youth really were his son; perhaps he might truly be so, for it was not impossible that there might be two children bearing the same name, and in many respects resembling each other.

Lin-in, absorbed in these reflections, paid little attention to the good cheer placed before him. Tchin could read on the countenance of Lin-in the perplexing thoughts that filled his mind. An indescribable charm seemed to attract him irresistibly towards the youth. He kept his eyes constantly fixed upon him, he could not turn them away. Hi-eul, on his part, despite his bashfulness and the timidity natural to his age, could not help gazing intently upon Lin-in; it seemed as though nature was revealing his father to him.

At length Lin-in, no longer master of his feelings, suddenly broke the silence, and asked Tchin if the youth really was his son.

"I am not," replied Tchin, "really his father, although I look upon him as my own child. Eight years ago, a man passing through this city, leading this child in his hand, addressed me by chance, and begged me to assist him in his great need. 'My wife,' said he, 'is dead, and has left me with this child. The impoverished state of my affairs has compelled me to leave my native place, and go to Hoaingan to my relations, from whom I hope to receive a sum of money, to enable me to set up in business again. I have not wherewith to continue my journey to that town, will you be so charitable as to lend me three täels? I will faithfully restore them on my return, and I will leave as a pledge all that I hold most dear in the world, my only son; I shall no sooner reach Hoaingan, than I will return and redeem my dear child.'

"I felt gratified by this mark of confidence, and I gave him the sum he asked. As he left me he burst into tears, and gave every evidence of the grief he felt in leaving his child. I was, however, surprised that the child did not exhibit the least emotion at the separation; as, however, time wore on, and the pretended father did not return, suspicions began to rise, which I was anxious to set at rest. I called the child, and by various questions I put to him, learned that he was born in Wou-si, that having one day run out to see a procession pass by, he had strayed too far from home, and lost his way, and that he had been trepanned and carried off by a stranger. He also told me the name of his father and mother; indeed, it is that of your own family. I thus discovered that the fellow, so far from being the father of the poor child, was the identical rascal who had carried him off. Not only was my compassion excited, but the boy's pleasing manners had entirely won my heart; I treated him from that time as one of my own children, and I sent him to college with my own son, to study with him. I have often entertained the plan of going to Wou-si, to inquire after his family. But business of some kind always prevented me from undertaking the journey, of which, however, I had never fully relinquished the idea; when, happily, a few moments ago, you chanced in the course of conversation to mention your son, my suspicions were aroused, and upon the extraordinary coincidence of your tale, and the circumstances of which I was acquainted, I sent for your child to see if you would recognize him."

At these words Hi-eul wept for joy, and his tears caused those of Lin-in to flow copiously. "A peculiar mark," said he, "will prove his identity; a little above the left knee you will find a small black spot, which has been there from his birth." Hi-eul pulled up the leg of his trouser, and showed the spot in question. Lin-in, on seeing it, threw himself upon the neck of the child, covered him with kisses, and folded him in his arms. "My child," cried he, "my dear child, what happiness for your father to find you after so many years' absence."

It is not difficult to conceive to what transports of joy the father and son delivered themselves up, during these first moments of pleasure. After a thousand tender embraces, Lin-in at length tore himself from the arms of his son, and made a profound obeisance to Tchin. "What gratitude do I not owe you," said he, "for having received my son into your house, and brought up this dear portion of myself with so much care. But for you we should never have been united."

"My kind benefactor," replied Tchin, rising, "it was the act of disinterested generosity you practised towards me, in restoring the two hundred täels, which moved the compassion of Heaven. It is Heaven that conducted you to my house, where you have found him whom you sought in vain for so many years. Now that I know that good youth is your son, I regret that I have not treated him with greater consideration."

"Kneel, my son," said Lin-in, "and thank your generous benefactor."

Tchin was about to return these salutations, when Lin-in himself prevented him, overcome with this excess of respect. This interchange of civilities being over they resumed their seats, and Tchin placed little Hi-eul on a seat by his father's side.

Then Tchin resuming the conversation, said, "My brother (for henceforth that is the title by which I shall address you), I have a daughter twelve years of age, and it is my intention to give her in marriage to your son, in order that the union may cement our friendship more closely." This proposition was made in so sincere and ardent a manner, that Lin-in did not feel it right to make the usual excuses that good breeding prescribed. He therefore waived all ceremony, and gave his consent at once.

As it was growing late, they separated for the night. Hi-eul slept in the same chamber with his father. You may imagine all the tender and affectionate conversation that passed between them during the night. The next day Lin-in prepared to take leave of his host, but he could not resist his pressing invitation to remain. Tchin had prepared a second day's festivity, in which he spared no expense to regale the future father-in-law of his daughter, and his new son-in-law, and thereby to console himself for their departure. They drank and sang, and gave themselves up fully to the hilarity of the occasion.

When the repast was ended, Tchin drew out a packet of twenty täels, and looking towards Lin-in, said, "During the time my dear son-in-law has been with me, it is possible he may have suffered many things against my wish, and unknown to me; here is a little present I wish to make him, until I can give him more substantial proofs of my affection. I will not hear of a refusal."

"What!" replied Lin-in, "at a time when I am contracting an alliance so honourable to me, and when I ought, according to custom, to make marriage presents for my son, presents which I am prevented from doing at this moment, only because I am travelling, do you load me with gifts? I cannot accept them; the thought covers me with confusion."

"Well!" replied Tchin, "I am not dreaming of offering _you_ such a trifle. It is for my son-in-law, not the father-in-law of my daughter, that I intend this present. Indeed, if you persist in the refusal, I shall consider it as a sign that the alliance is not agreeable to you."

Lin-in saw that he must yield, and that resistance would be useless. He humbly accepted the present, and making his son rise from table, ordered him to make a profound reverence to Tchin. "What I have given you," said Tchin, raising him up, "is but a trifle, and deserves no thanks." Hi-eul then went into the house to pay his respects to his mother-in-law. The whole day passed in feasting and diversions; it was only at night that they separated.

When Lin-in retired to his chamber, he gave himself up entirely to the reflections to which these events gave rise. "It must be confessed," cried he, "that by restoring the two hundred täels, I have done an action pleasing to Heaven, and now I am rewarded by the happiness of finding my child, and contracting so honourable an alliance. This is, indeed, joy upon joy; it is like putting gold flowers upon a beautiful piece of silk. How can I be sufficiently grateful for so many favours? Here are the twenty täels that my friend Tchin has given me; can I do better than employ them towards the maintenance of some virtuous bonzes? It will be sowing them in a soil of blessings."

The next day, after breakfast, the father and son got ready their luggage, and took leave of their host; they proceeded to the quay, hired a boat, and commenced their journey. They had scarcely gone half a league, ere they came in sight of a scene of terrible excitement; the river was full of struggling people, whose cries rent the air. A bark, full of passengers, had just sunk, and the cries of the unfortunate creatures for help were heart-rending! The people on the shore called loudly to several small boats which were near to come to the rescue. But the hard-hearted and selfish boatmen demanded that a good sum should be guaranteed them, before they would bestir themselves. At this critical moment Lin-in's boat came up. The moment he perceived what was going on, he said to himself: "It is a much more meritorious action to save the life of a man, than to adorn the temples and support bonzes. Let us consecrate the twenty täels to this good work; let us succour these poor drowning souls." He instantly proclaimed that he would give the twenty täels amongst those who would take the drowning men into their boats.

At this offer all the boatmen crowded towards the scene of the disaster, and the river was, in a moment, covered with their boats; at the same time, some of the spectators on shore, who knew how to swim, threw themselves into the water, and, in a few moments, all were saved, without exception. Lin-in then distributed amongst the boatmen the promised reward.

The poor creatures, snatched from a watery grave, came in a body to return thanks to their preserver. One amongst them, having looked attentively at Lin-in, suddenly cried out, "What! is that you, my eldest brother? By what good luck do I find you here?"

Lin-in, turning towards him, recognized his youngest brother, Lin-tchin. Then, transported with joy, he exclaimed, clasping his hands, "O wonderful circumstance! Heaven has led me hither to save my brother's life." He instantly reached out his hand to him, and made him come into his boat, helped him off with his wet clothes, and gave him others.

As soon as Lin-tchin had sufficiently recovered, he paid the respects due to an elder brother which good breeding demands from a younger, and Lin-in, having acknowledged his politeness, called Hi-eul, who was in the cabin, to come and salute his uncle; he then recounted all his adventures, which threw Lin-tchin into a state of amazement, from which he was a long time in recovering. "But tell me," said Lin-in, at length, "your motive in coming to this country."

"It is not possible," replied Lin-tchin, "to tell you in a few words the reason of my travels. In the course of the three years which have elapsed since your departure from home, the melancholy news of your death from illness reached us. My second brother made every inquiry, and assured himself that the report was true. It was a thunderbolt for my sister-in-law; she was inconsolable, and put on the deepest mourning. For my part, I could not give credit to the report. After a few days had elapsed, my second brother tried all in his power to induce my sister-in-law to contract a fresh marriage. She, however, steadily rejected the proposal; at length she prevailed upon me to make a journey to Chan-si, to ascertain upon the spot what had become of you; and, when I least expected it, at the point of perishing in the water, the very person I was in search of, my well-beloved brother, has saved my life. Is not this unexpected good fortune, a blessing from Heaven? But believe me, my brother, there is no time to be lost; make all possible haste to return home, and to put an end to my sister-in-law's grief. The least delay may cause an irreparable misfortune."

Lin-in, overwhelmed at this news, sent for the captain of the boat, and, although it was late, ordered him to set sail, and continue the voyage during the night.

Whilst all these events were happening to Lin-in, Wang, his wife, was a prey to the most poignant grief. A thousand circumstances led her to suspect that her husband was not dead; but Lin-pao, who by that reported death became the head of the family, so positively assured her that it was true, that, at last, she had allowed herself to be persuaded into that belief, and had assumed the widow's weeds.

Lin-pao possessed a bad heart, and was capable of the most unworthy acts. "I have no doubt," said he, "of my elder brother's death. My sister-in-law is young and handsome; she has, besides, no one to support her; I must force her to marry again, and I shall make money by this means."

He thereupon communicated his plan to Yang, his wife, and ordered her to employ some clever matchmaker. But Wang resolutely rejected the proposal; she vowed that she would remain a widow, and honour the memory of her husband by her widowhood. Her brother-in-law, Lin-tchin, supported her in her resolution. Thus all the artifices which Lin-pao and his wife employed were useless; and, as every time they urged her on the subject it occurred to her that they had no positive proof of his death, "I am determined," said she, at length, "to know the truth; these reports are often false; it is only on the very spot that certain information can be obtained. True, the distance is nearly a hundred leagues. Still, I know that Lin-tchin is a good-hearted man; he will travel to the province of Chan-si to relieve my anxiety, and learn positively if I am so unfortunate as to have lost my husband; and, if I have, he will, at least, bring me his precious remains."

Lin-tchin was asked to undertake the journey, and, without a moment's hesitation, departed. His absence, however, only rendered Lin-pao more eager in the pursuit of his project. To crown the whole, he had gambled very deeply, and, having been a heavy loser, was at his wit's end to know where to obtain money. In this state of embarrassment, he met with a merchant of Kiang-si, who had just lost his wife, and was looking for another. Lin-pao seized upon the opportunity, and proposed his sister-in-law to him. The merchant accepted the offer, taking care, however, to make secret inquiries whether the lady who was proposed to him was young and good-looking. As soon as he was satisfied on these points, he lost no time, and paid down thirty täels to clinch the bargain.

Lin-pao, having taken the money, said to the merchant, "I ought to warn you, that my sister-in-law is proud and haughty. She will raise many objections to leaving the house, and you will have a great deal of trouble to force her to do it. Now this will be your best plan for managing it. This evening, as soon as it gets dark, have a palanquin and good strong bearers in readiness; come with as little noise as possible, and present yourself at the door of the house. The young woman who will come to the door, attired in the head-dress of mourners, is my sister-in-law; don't say a word to her, and don't listen to what she may say, but seize her at once, thrust her into your palanquin, carry her to your boat, and set sail at once." This plan met with the approbation of the merchant, and its execution appeared easy enough of accomplishment.

In the mean time, Lin-pao returned home, and, in order to prevent his sister-in-law from suspecting any thing of the project he had planned, he assumed an air of the most perfect indifference, but as soon as she left the room, he communicated his plans to his wife, and, alluding to his sister-in-law, in a contemptuous manner, said, "That two-legged piece of goods must leave this house to-night. However, not to be a witness of her tears and sighs, I shall go out beforehand, and, as it gets dark, a merchant of Kiang-si will come, and take her away in a palanquin to his boat."

He would have continued the conversation, when he heard the footsteps of some person outside the window, and went hurriedly away. In his haste he forgot to mention the circumstance of the mourning dress. It was doubtless an interposition of Providence that this circumstance was omitted. The lady Wang easily perceived that the noise she made outside the window had caused Lin-pao to break off the conversation suddenly. The tone of his voice plainly showed that he had something more to say; but she had heard enough; for having remarked by his manner that he had some secret to tell his wife when he entered the house, she had pretended to go away, but listening at the window had heard these words distinctly, "They will take her away and put her into a palanquin."

These words strongly fortified her suspicions. Her resolution was taken at once. She entered the room, and approaching Yang, gave utterance to her anxiety. "My sister-in-law," said she, "you behold an unfortunate widow, who is bound to you by the strongest ties of a friendship which has been always sincere. By this long-standing friendship I conjure you to tell me candidly whether my brother-in-law still persists in his design of forcing me into a marriage that would cover me with disgrace."

At these words Yang at first appeared confused, and changed colour; then, assuming a more confident expression, "What are you thinking of?" she asked, "and what fancies have you got into your head? If there were any intention of making you marry again, do you think there would be any difficulty? What is the good of throwing oneself into the water before the ship is really going to pieces?"

The moment the lady Wang heard this allusion to the ship, she understood more clearly the meaning of the secret conference of her brother-in-law with his wife. She now suspected the worst, and gave vent to her lamentations and sighs; and yielding to the current of her grief, she shut herself up in her room, where she wept, groaned, and bewailed her hard lot. "Unfortunate wretch that I am," cried she, "I do not know what has become of my husband. Lin-tchin, my brother-in-law and friend, upon whom alone I can rely, is gone on a journey. My father, mother, and relations live far from hence. If this business is hurried on, how shall I be able to inform them of it? I can hope for no assistance from our neighbours. Lin-pao has made himself the terror of the whole district, and every body knows him to be capable of the greatest villany. Miserable creature that I am! how can I escape his snares? If I do not fall into them to-day, it may be to-morrow, or at any rate in a very short time."

She fell to the ground half dead; her fall, and the violence of her grief, made a great noise. The lady Yang, hearing the disturbance, hastened to her room, and finding the door firmly fastened, concluded that it was a plan of her distracted sister-in-law to evade the scheme of the night; she therefore seized a bar which stood by and broke the door open. As she entered the room, the night being very dark, she caught her feet in the clothes of the lady Wang, and fell tumbling over her. In her fall she lost her head-dress, which flew to some distance, and the fright and fall brought on a faint, in which she remained for some time. When she recovered she got up, went for a light, and returned to the room, where she found the lady Wang stretched on the floor, without motion and almost without breath.

At the moment she was going to procure other assistance, she heard a gentle knock at the door. She knew it must be the merchant of Kiang-si come to fetch the wife he had bought. She quickly ran to receive him and bring him into the room, that he might himself be witness of what had occurred; but remembering that she had no head-dress, and that she was unfit to present herself in that state, she hastily caught up the one she found at her feet, which was the lady Wang's head-dress of mourning, and ran to the door.

It was indeed the merchant of Kiang-si, who had come to fetch away his promised bride. He had a bridal palanquin, ornamented with silk flags, festoons, flowers, and several gay lanterns; it was surrounded by servants bearing lighted torches, and by a troop of flute and hautboy-players. The whole cortége was stationed in the street in perfect silence. The merchant, having knocked gently and finding the door open, entered the house with some of those who bore torches to light him.

Upon the lady Yang's appearance, the merchant, who spied at a glance the mourning head-dress, which was the mark by which he was to distinguish his bride, flew upon her like a hungry kite upon a sparrow. His followers rushed in, carried off the lady, and shut her into the palanquin, which was all ready to receive her. It was in vain she endeavoured to make herself heard, crying out, "You are mistaken; it is not me you want." The music struck up as she was forced into the palanquin, and drowned her voice, whilst the bearers flew rather than walked, and bore her to the boat.

Whilst all this was taking place, the lady Wang had gradually revived and come to her senses. The great hubbub she heard at the door of the house renewed her fears, and occasioned her the most painful anxiety; but as she found that the noise of music, and the tumult of voices, which had arisen so suddenly died gradually away in the distance, she regained her courage, and after a few minutes summoned up strength to go and inquire what was the matter.

After calling her sister-in-law two or three times without effect, the truth began to dawn on her; and after considering the matter carefully, she could only come to the conclusion that the merchant had made a mistake, and had carried off the wrong lady. But now a fresh cause of uneasiness arose; she dreaded the consequences when Lin-pao should return and be informed of the mistake. She shut herself up in her room, and after picking up the head-pins, the earrings, and the head-dress, which were lying on the floor, threw herself, quite worn out with fatigue and anxiety, on her couch, and endeavoured to get a little sleep, but she was not able to close her eyes all night.

At daybreak she rose and bathed her face, and proceeded to complete her toilet. As, however, she was searching about for her mourning head-dress, some one began making a great noise at the room-door, knocking loudly and crying out, "Open the door instantly!" It was, in fact, Lin-pao himself. She recognized the voice at once. She made up her mind at once what to do; she let him go on knocking without answering him. He swore, stormed and bawled, till he was hoarse. At length the lady Wang went to the door, and standing behind it without opening it, asked, "Who is knocking there, and making such a disturbance?" Lin-pao, who recognized the voice of his sister-in-law, began to shout still louder: but seeing that his storming had no effect, he had recourse to an expedient which proved successful. "Sister-in-law," said he, "I have brought you good news! Lin-tchin, my youngest brother, has come back, and our eldest brother is in excellent health; open the door at once!"

Overjoyed at this intelligence, the lady Wang ran to complete her toilet, and in her haste put on the black head-dress that her sister-in-law had left behind, and eagerly opened the door; but, alas! in vain did she look for her friend Lin-tchin; no one was there but Lin-pao. He entered her room hurriedly and looked round, but not seeing his wife, and perceiving a black head-dress on the head of his sister-in-law, his suspicions began to be excited in a strange manner.

"Well! where is your sister-in-law?" he asked roughly.

"You ought to know better than I," replied the lady Wang, "since you had the whole management of this admirable plot."

"But tell me," returned Lin-pao, "why don't you still wear a white head-dress? have you left off mourning?" The lady Wang forthwith proceeded to relate to him all that had happened during his absence.

Just at this moment he caught sight through the window of four or five persons hurrying towards his house. To his utter astonishment he perceived that they were his eldest brother Lin-in, his youngest brother Lin-tchin, his nephew Hi-eul, and two servants carrying their luggage. Lin-pao, thunderstruck at this sight, and not having impudence enough to face them, ran off by the back-door, and disappeared like a flash of lightning.

The lady Wang was transported with joy at her husband's return. But who shall describe her ecstasies of joy when her son was presented to her? She could scarcely recognize him, so tall and handsome had he grown. "Oh!" cried she, "by what good fortune did you recover our dear child, whom I thought we had lost for ever?"

Lin-in gave her in detail an account of his adventures; and the lady Wang related at length all the indignities she had endured at the hands of Lin-pao, and the extremities to which she had been reduced by his scandalous treatment.

Lin-in lavished on his wife encomiums which indeed her fidelity deserved; after which, reflecting on the whole chain of events by which the present meeting had been brought about, he seemed deeply moved, and remarked, "If a blind passion for wealth had caused me to keep the two hundred täels I found by accident, how should I have ever met with our dear child? If avarice had prevented me from employing the twenty täels in saving those drowning people, my dear brother would have perished in the waves, and I should never have seen him; if by an unlooked-for chance I had not met my kind-hearted brother, how should I have discovered the trouble and confusion that reigned in this house in time to prevent its disastrous consequences? But for all this, my beloved wife, we should never have seen each other again. I recognize the special interposition of Providence in bringing about all these things. As to my other brother, that unnatural brother, who has unconsciously sold his own wife, he has drawn upon himself his own terrible punishment. Heaven rewards men according to their deserts; let them not think to escape its judgments.

"Let us learn from this how profitable in the end, as well as good, it is to practise virtue; it is that alone which bestows lasting prosperity upon a house."

In due course of time Hi-eul brought home his bride, the daughter of Tchin. The marriage was celebrated with great rejoicings, and proved a happy one. They had several children, and lived to see a crowd of grandchildren, several of whom became men of learning, and acquired important positions in the state.

CONTINUATION OF THE STORY OF PRINCE KHALAF AND THE PRINCESS OF CHINA.

The prince applauded the narrative of the story-teller; and, dinner being over, he prostrated himself a second time before the khan, and, after thanking him for his goodness, returned to the tent, where Elmaze and Timurtasch were anxiously expecting him. "I bring you good news," said he to them; "our fortune has changed already." He then related to them all that had passed. This fortunate event caused them the greatest pleasure; they regarded it as an infallible sign that the hardness of their destiny was beginning to soften. They willingly followed Khalaf, who conducted them to the royal tent and presented them to the khan. This prince received them with courtesy, and renewed to them the promise he had given to their son; and he did not fail to keep his word. He appointed them a private tent, caused them to be waited on by the slaves and officers of his household, and ordered them to be treated with the same respect as himself.

The next day Khalaf was arrayed in a rich dress; he received from the hand of Almguer himself a sabre with a diamond hilt and a purse full of gold sequins; they then brought him a beautiful Turcoman horse. He mounted before all the court; and to show that he understood the management of a horse, he made him go through all his paces and evolutions in a manner that charmed the prince and all his courtiers.

After having thanked the khan for all his benefits, he took his leave. He then sought Elmaze and Timurtasch; and after some time spent in desultory conversation, proceeded to unfold to them a scheme which for some days past had been agitating his mind. "I have a great desire," said he, "to see the great kingdom of China; give me permission to gratify that wish. I have a presentiment that I shall signalize myself by some splendid action, and that I shall gain the friendship of the monarch who holds that vast empire under his sway. Suffer me to leave you in this asylum, where you are in perfect safety, and where you can want for nothing. I am following an impulse which inspires me, or rather, I am yielding myself to the guidance of Heaven."

"Go, my son," replied Timurtasch; "yield to the noble impulse which animates you; hasten to the fortune that awaits you. Accelerate by your valour the arrival of that tardy prosperity which must one day succeed our misfortunes, or by a glorious death deserve an illustrious place in the history of unfortunate princes."

The young prince of the Nagäis, after having embraced his father and mother, mounted upon his beautiful charger, took a respectful leave of the khan, received from the hand of the princess Elmaze, who came out of her tent for the purpose, the parting cup, and set out on his journey. Historians do not mention that he encountered any thing worthy notice on his route; they only say that, having arrived at the great city Canbalac, otherwise Pekin, he dismounted at a house near the gate, where a worthy woman, a widow, lived. Khalaf reined up his horse here, and on the widow presenting herself at the door, he saluted her and said,

"My good mother, would you kindly receive a stranger? If you could give me a lodging in your house, I can venture to say that you will have no cause to regret it." The widow scrutinized him; and judging from his good looks, as well as from his dress, that he was no mean guest, she made him a low bow, and replied, "Young stranger of noble bearing, my house is at your service, and all that it contains."

"Have you also a place where I can put my horse?"

"Yes," said she, "I have," and called a young slave, who took the horse by the bridle, and led him into a small stable behind the house. Khalaf, who felt very hungry, then asked her if she would kindly send and buy something for him in the market. The widow replied, that she had a maiden who lived with her, and who would execute his orders. The prince then drew from his purse a sequin of gold and placed it in the girl's hand, who went off to the market.

In the mean time, the widow had enough to do to answer the inquiries of Khalaf. He asked her a thousand questions; what were the customs of the inhabitants of the city? how many families Pekin was said to contain? and, at length, the conversation fell upon the king of China.

"Tell me, I pray you," said Khalaf, "what is the character this prince bears. Is he generous, and do you think that he would pay any regard to a young stranger, who might offer to serve him against his enemies? In a word, is he a man to whose interests I could worthily attach myself?"

"Doubtless," replied the widow; "he is an excellent prince, who loves his subjects as much as he is beloved by them, and I am surprised that you have never heard of our good king, Altoun-Khan, for the fame of his justice and liberality is spread far and wide."

"From the favourable picture you draw of him," replied the prince of the Nagäis, "I should imagine that he ought to be the happiest and most prosperous monarch in the world."

"He is not so, however," replied the widow; "indeed, he may be said to be the most wretched. In the first place, he has no prince to succeed him on his throne; a male heir is denied him, notwithstanding all the prayers of himself and his subjects, and all the good deeds he performs to that end. But I must tell you, the grief of having no son is not his greatest trouble; what principally disturbs the peace of his life is the princess Tourandocte, his only daughter."

"How is it," replied Khalaf, "that she is such a source of grief to him?"

"I will tell you," replied the widow; "and, indeed, I can speak upon the subject from the very best authority; for my daughter has often told me the story and she has the honour of being among the attendants on the princess."

"The princess Tourandocte," continued the hostess of the prince of the Nagäis, "is in her nineteenth year; she is so beautiful, that the artists to whom she has sat for her portrait, although the most expert in the East, have all confessed that they were ashamed of their efforts; and that the most able painter in the world, and the best skilled in delineating the charms of a beautiful face, could not express those of the princess of China; nevertheless, the different portraits which have been taken of her, although infinitely inferior to the original, have produced the most disastrous consequences.

"She combines, with her ravishing beauty, a mind so cultivated, that she not only understands all that is usual for persons in her station to know, but is mistress of sciences suited only for the other sex. She can trace the various characters of several languages, she is acquainted with arithmetic, geography, philosophy, mathematics, law, and, above all, theology, she knows the laws and moral philosophy of our great legislator, Berginghuzin; in fact, is as learned as all the wise men put together. But her good qualities are effaced by a hardness of heart without parallel, and all her accomplishments are tarnished by detestable cruelty.

"It is now two years ago since the king of Thibet sent to ask her in marriage for his son, who had fallen in love with her from a portrait he had seen. Altoun-Khan, delighted with the prospect of this alliance, proposed it to Tourandocte. The haughty princess, to whom all men appeared despicable, so vain had her beauty rendered her, rejected the proposal with disdain. The king flew into a violent rage with her, and declared that he would be obeyed; but instead of submitting dutifully to the wishes of her father, she burst into bitter lamentations, because he showed a disposition to force her to comply; she grieved immoderately, as though it were intended to inflict a great injury upon her; in fact, she took it so much to heart that she fell seriously ill. The physicians, who soon discovered the secret of her complaint, told the king that all their remedies were useless, and that the princess would certainly lose her life, if he persisted in his resolution to make her espouse the prince of Thibet.

"The king then, who loves his daughter to distraction, alarmed at the danger she was in, went to see her, and assured her that he would send back the ambassador with a refusal. 'That is not enough, my lord,' replied the princess; 'I am resolved to die, except you grant what I ask you. If you wish me to live, you must bind yourself by an inviolable oath never to try to influence my wishes in this matter, and to publish a decree declaring that of all the princes who may seek my hand, none shall be allowed to espouse me who shall not previously have replied, without hesitation, to the questions which I shall put to him before all the learned men in this city; that if his answers prove satisfactory, I will consent to his becoming my husband, but if the reverse, that he shall lose his head in the court-yard of your palace.'

"'By this edict,' added she, 'of which all the foreign princes who may arrive at Pekin shall be informed, you will extinguish all desire of asking me in marriage; and that is exactly what I wish, for I hate men, and do not wish to be married.'

"'But, my child,' said the king, 'if by chance some one should present himself, and reply to your questions?'--

"'Ha! I do not fear that,' she said quickly, interrupting him; 'I can put questions which would puzzle the most learned doctors; I am willing to run that risk.'

"Altoun-Khan pondered over what the princess demanded of him. 'I see clearly,' thought he, 'that my daughter does not wish to marry, and the effect of this edict will be to frighten away all lovers. I run no risk, therefore, in yielding to her fancies, no evil can come of it. What prince would be mad enough to face such danger?'

"At length the king, persuaded that this edict would not be followed by any bad results, and that the recovery of his daughter entirely depended upon it, caused it to be published, and swore upon the laws of Berginghuzin to see that it was observed to the letter. Tourandocte, reassured by this oath, which she knew her father dare not violate, regained her strength, and was soon restored to perfect health.

"In spite of the decree, the fame of her beauty attracted several young princes to Pekin. It was in vain that they were informed of the nature of the edict; and as every body, but particularly a young prince, entertains a good opinion of himself, they had the hardihood to present themselves to reply to the questions of the princess; and not being able to fathom her deep meaning, they perished miserably one after another.

"The king, to do him justice, appears deeply afflicted with their sad fate. He repents of having made the oath which binds him; and however tenderly he may love his daughter, he would now almost rather he had let her die than have saved her life at such a price. He does all in his power to prevent these evils. When a lover whom the decree cannot restrain comes to demand the hand of the princess, he strives to deter him from his purpose; and he never consents, but with the deepest regret, to his exposing himself to the chance of losing his life. But it generally happens that he is unable to dissuade these rash young men. They are infatuated with Tourandocte, and the hope of possessing her blinds them to the difficulty of obtaining her.

"But if the king shows so much grief at the ruin of the unfortunate princes, it is not the case with his barbarous daughter. She takes a pride in these spectacles of blood with which her beauty periodically furnishes the Chinese. So great is her vanity, that she considers the most accomplished prince not only unworthy of her, but most insolent in daring to raise his thoughts towards her, and she looks upon his death as a just chastisement for his temerity.

"But what is still more deplorable, Heaven is perpetually permitting princes to come and sacrifice themselves to this inhuman princess. Only the other day, a prince, who flattered himself that he had knowledge enough to reply to her questions, lost his life; and this very night another is to die, who, unfortunately, came to the court of China with the same hopes."

Khalaf was deeply attentive to the widow's story.

"I cannot understand," said he, after she had ceased speaking, "how any princes can be found sufficiently devoid of judgment to come and ask the hand of the princess of China. What man would not be terrified at the condition without which he cannot hope to obtain her? Besides, despite what the artists may say who have painted her portrait; although they may affirm that their productions are but an imperfect image of her beauty, my firm belief is that they have added charms, and that their portraits exaggerate her beauty, since they have produced such powerful effects; indeed, I cannot think that Tourandocte is so beautiful as you say."

"Sir," replied the widow, "she is more lovely by far than I have described her to you; and you may believe me, for I have seen her several times when I have gone to the harem to visit my daughter. Draw upon your fancy as you please, collect in your imagination all that can possibly be brought together in order to constitute a perfect beauty, and be assured that even then you would not have pictured to yourself an object which could approach the perfections of the princess."

The prince of the Nagäis could not credit the story of the widow, so overdrawn did he consider it; he felt, nevertheless, a secret pleasure for which he could not account. "But, my mother," said he, "are the questions which the king's daughter proposes so difficult of solution that it is impossible to reply to them to the satisfaction of the lawyers who are judges? For my part, I cannot help thinking that the princes who were not able to penetrate the meaning of her questions, must have been persons of very little ingenuity, if not absolutely ignorant."

"No, no!" replied the widow. "There is no enigma more obscure than the questions of the princess, and it is almost impossible to reply to them."

Whilst they were conversing thus of Tourandocte and her lovers, the girl arrived from the market loaded with provisions. Khalaf sat down to a table which the widow had prepared, and ate like a man famishing with hunger. Whilst thus engaged the night drew on, and they heard shortly in the town the gong of justice. The prince asked what the noise meant. "It is to give notice to the people," replied the widow, "that some person is going to be executed; and the unfortunate victim about to be immolated is the prince of whom I told you, and who is to be executed to-night for not being able to answer the princess's questions. It is customary to punish the guilty during the day, but this is an exceptional case. The king, who in his heart abhors the punishment which he causes to be inflicted upon the lovers of his daughter, will not suffer the sun to be witness of such a cruel action."

The son of Timurtasch had a wish to see this execution, the cause of which appeared so singular to him. He went out of the house, and meeting a crowd of Chinese in the street animated by the same curiosity, he mixed with them, and went to the court-yard of the palace, where the tragic scene was to be enacted. He beheld in the middle of the yard a _schebt-cheraghe_, in other words a very high wooden tower, the outside of which, from the top to the bottom, was covered with branches of cypress, amongst which a prodigious quantity of lamps, tastefully arranged, spread a brilliant light around, and illuminated the whole court-yard. Fifteen cubits from the tower a scaffold was raised, covered with white satin, and around the scaffold were arranged several pavilions of taffetas of the same colour open towards the scaffold. Behind these two thousand soldiers of the guard of Altoun-Khan were stationed, with drawn swords and axes in their hands, forming a double rank, which served as a barrier against the people. Khalaf was looking with deep attention at all that presented itself to his view, when suddenly the mournful ceremony commenced. It was ushered in by a confused noise of drums and bells, which proceeded from the town, and could be heard at a great distance. At the same moment twenty mandarins and as many judges, all dressed in long robes of white woollen cloth, emerged from the palace, advanced towards the scaffold, and after walking three times around it, took their places under the pavilions.

Next came the victim, crowned with flowers interwoven with cypress leaves, and with a blue fillet round his head,--not a red one, such as criminals condemned by justice wear. He was a young prince, who had scarcely reached his eighteenth year; he was accompanied by a mandarin leading him by the hand, and followed by the executioner. The three ascended the scaffold; instantly the noise of the drums and bells ceased. The mandarin then addressed the prince in a tone so loud that he was heard by nearly the whole concourse of people. "Prince," said he, "is it not true that you were apprised of the terms of the king's edict before you presented yourself to ask the princess in marriage? Is it not also true that the king himself used all his endeavours to dissuade you from your rash resolution?" The prince, having replied in the affirmative, "Acknowledge, then," continued the mandarin, "that it is by your own fault that you lose your life to-day, and that the king and princess are not guilty of your death."

"I pardon them," returned the prince; "I impute my death to myself alone, and I pray Heaven not to require of them my blood which is about to be shed."

He had scarcely finished these words, when the executioner swept off his head with one stroke of the sword. The air instantly resounded with the noise of the drums and the bells. Then twelve mandarins took up the body, laid it in a coffin of ivory and ebony, and placed it upon a litter, which six of them bore away upon their shoulders into the gardens of Serail. Here they deposited it under a dome of white marble, which the king had ordered to be erected purposely to be the resting-place of all those unfortunate princes who should share the same fate. He often retired there to weep upon the tombs of those who were buried within it, and tried, by honouring their ashes with his tears, in some measure to atone for the barbarity of his child. As soon as the mandarins had carried away the body of the prince who had just suffered, the people and all the councillors retired to their homes, blaming the king for having had the imprudence to sanction such barbarity by an oath that he could not break. Khalaf remained in the court-yard of the palace in a state of bewilderment; he noticed a man near him weeping bitterly; he guessed that it was some person who was deeply interested in the execution that had just taken place, and wishing to know more about it, addressed him in these words:

"I am deeply moved," said he, "by the lively grief you exhibit, and I sympathize in your troubles, for I cannot doubt that you were intimately acquainted with the prince who has just suffered."

"Ah! sir," replied the mourner, with a fresh outburst of grief, "I ought indeed to know him, for I was his tutor. O unhappy king of Samarcand!" added he, "what will be thy grief when thou shalt be told of the extraordinary death of thy son? and who shall dare to carry thee the news?"

Khalaf asked by what means the prince of Samarcand had become enamoured of the princess of China. "I will tell you," replied the tutor: "and you will doubtless be astonished at the recital I am about to make. The prince of Samarcand," pursued he, "lived happily at his father's court. The court looked upon him as a prince who would one day be their sovereign, and they studied to please him as much as the king himself. He usually passed the day in hunting and playing at ball, and at night he assembled secretly in his apartments the distinguished youth of the court, with whom he drank all sorts of liquors. He sometimes amused himself by seeing the beautiful slaves dance, or by listening to music and singing. In a word, his life was passed in a constant round of pleasure.

"One day a famous painter arrived at Samarcand with several portraits of princesses which he had painted in the different courts through which he had passed. He showed them to my prince, who, looking at the first he presented, said, 'These are very beautiful pictures; I am certain that the originals are under a deep obligation to you.'

"'My lord,' replied the artist, 'I confess that in these portraits I have somewhat flattered the sitters; but I crave permission to tell you that I have one far more beautiful than these, which does not approach the original.' Saying this, he drew from the case which contained his portraits that of the princess of China.

"Scarcely had my master looked at it, when not conceiving that nature was capable of producing so perfect a beauty, he exclaimed that there was not in the world a woman of such exquisite loveliness, and that the portrait of the princess of China was more flattering than the others. The artist protested that it was not, and assured him that no pencil could convey an idea of the grace and beauty which shone in the countenance of the princess Tourandocte. Upon this assurance my master bought the portrait, which made so deep an impression on him, that, leaving the court of his father, he quitted Samarcand, accompanied by me alone, and without informing any one of his intentions, took the road for China, and came to this city. He volunteered to serve Altoun-Khan against his enemies, and asked the hand of his daughter the princess. We were apprized of the severe edict connected with the proposal, but alas! my prince, instead of being dismayed by the severity of the conditions, conceived the liveliest joy. 'I will go,' said he, 'and present myself to answer the questions of Tourandocte; I am not deficient in talent or ready wit, and I shall obtain the hand of the princess.'

"It is needless to tell you the rest, sir," continued the tutor, sobbing; "you may judge by the mournful spectacle you have beheld that the unfortunate prince of Samarcand was unable to answer, as he hoped, the fatal questions of this barbarous beauty, whose delight is to shed blood, and who has already been the means of sacrificing the lives of several kings' sons. A few moments before his death he gave me the portrait of this cruel princess. 'I entrust,' said he, 'this portrait to thee; guard carefully the precious deposit. Thou hast but to show it to my father when thou informest him of my sad fate, and I doubt not that when he beholds so beautiful a face, he will pardon my temerity.' But," added the old man, "let any one else who pleases carry the sad news to the king his father; for my part, borne down by the weight of my affliction, I will go far from hence and Samarcand, and mourn for my beloved charge. This is what you wished to know; and here is the dangerous portrait," pursued he, taking it from beneath his cloak and throwing it on the ground in a paroxysm of rage; "behold the cause of the sad fate of my prince. O execrable portrait! why had my master not my eyes when he took thee into his hands? O inhuman princess! may all the princes of the earth entertain for thee the same sentiments as those with which thou hast inspired me! Instead of being the object of their love, thou wouldest then be their aversion." Saying this, the tutor of the prince of Samarcand retired full of rage, regarding the palace with a furious eye and without speaking another word to the son of Timurtasch. The latter quickly picked up the portrait of Tourandocte, and turned to retrace his steps to the house of the widow; but he missed his way in the darkness, and wandered heedlessly out of the city. He impatiently awaited the daylight to enable him to contemplate the beauty of the princess of China. As soon as the approach of dawn furnished him with sufficient light to satisfy his curiosity, he opened the case which contained the portrait.

Still he hesitated before he looked at it. "What am I about to do?" cried he; "ought I to disclose to my eyes so dangerous an object? Think, Khalaf, think of the direful effects it has caused; hast thou already forgotten what the tutor of the prince of Samarcand has just narrated to thee? Look not on this portrait; resist the impulse which urges thee, it is nothing more than a feeling of idle curiosity. Whilst thou retainest thy reason thou canst prevent thy destruction. But what do I say? prevent," added he, checking himself; "with what false reasoning does my timid prudence inspire me. If I am to love the princess, is not my love already written in indelible characters in the book of fate. Besides, I think that it is possible to look upon the most beautiful portrait with impunity; one must be weak, indeed, to be influenced by the sight of a vain array of colours. Never fear; let us scan these surpassing and murderous features without emotion. I will even find defects, and taste the pleasure of criticizing the charms of this too beautiful princess; and I could wish, in order to mortify her vanity, that she might learn that I have looked upon her portrait without emotion."

The son of Timurtasch had fully made up his mind to look upon the portrait of Tourandocte with an indifferent eye. He now casts his eyes on it, he regards it attentively, examines it, admires the contour of the countenance, the regularity of the features, the vivacity of the eyes,--the mouth, the nose, all appear perfect; he is surprised at so rare a combination of perfect features, and although still on his guard, he allows himself to be charmed. An inconceivable uneasiness takes possession of him in spite of himself; he can no longer understand his feelings. "What fire," said he, "has suddenly kindled itself in my bosom! What tumult has this portrait produced in my thoughts! Merciful Heaven, is it the lot of all those who look upon this portrait to become enamoured of this inhuman princess? Alas! I feel but too surely that she has made the same impression upon me, as she did upon the unhappy prince of Samarcand; I yield to the charms that wounded him, and far from being terrified by his melancholy fate, I could almost envy his very misfortune. What a change, gracious Heaven! I could not conceive a short time ago, how one could be mad enough to despise the severity of the edict, and now I see nothing that frightens me, all the danger has vanished.

"No! incomparable princess," pursued he, devouring the portrait with an enamoured gaze, "no obstacle can stop me, I love you spite of your barbarity; and since it is permitted to me to aspire to your possession, from this day I will strive to win you; if I perish in the bold attempt, I shall only feel in dying the grief of not being able to possess you."

Khalaf, having formed the resolve of demanding the hand of the princess, returned to the widow's house, a journey which cost him no little trouble, for he had rambled to some considerable distance during the night. "Ah! my son," exclaimed his hostess, as soon as she beheld him, "I am so glad to see you, I was very uneasy about you, I feared some accident had befallen you; why did you not return earlier?"

"My good mother," replied he, "I am sorry to have caused you any uneasiness, I missed my way in the darkness." He then related to her how he had met the tutor of the prince whom they had put to death, and did not fail to repeat to her all that he had told him. Then showing her the portrait of Tourandocte; "Tell me," said he, "if this portrait is only an imperfect likeness of the princess of China; for my part, I cannot conceive that it is not equal to the original."

"By the soul of the prophet Jacmouny," cried the widow, after she had examined the portrait, "the princess is a thousand times more beautiful, and infinitely more charming than she is here represented. I wish you could see her, you would be of my opinion, that all the artists in the world who should undertake to paint her as she really is, could never succeed. I will not even make an exception in favour of the famous Many."

"You delight me above measure," replied the prince of the Nagäis, "by assuring me that the beauty of Tourandocte surpasses all the efforts of the artist's power. How flattering the assurance! It strengthens me in my determination, and incites me to attempt at once the brilliant adventure. Oh that I were before the princess! I burn with impatience to try whether I shall be more fortunate than the prince of Samarcand."

"What do you say, my son?" eagerly asked the widow, "what enterprise are you so rashly planning? And do you seriously think of carrying it into effect?"

"Yes, my good mother," returned Khalaf, "I intend this very day to present myself to answer the questions of the princess. I came to China only with the intention of offering my services to the great king, Altoun-Khan, but it is better to be his son-in-law than an officer in his army."

At these words the widow burst into tears. "Ah! sir, in the name of Heaven do not persist in so rash a resolution; you will certainly perish if you are bold enough to aspire to the hand of the princess; instead of allowing her beauty to charm you, let it be the object of your detestation, since it has been the cause of so many frightful tragedies; picture to yourself what the grief of your parents will be when they hear of your death; let the thoughts of the mortal grief into which you will plunge them deter you."

"For pity's sake, my mother," interrupted the son of Timurtasch, "cease to present to my mind such affecting images. I cannot be ignorant, that if it be my destiny to die this day, my sad end will be a source of bitter and inexhaustible grief to my beloved parents; nay, I can conceive their misery being so excessive as to endanger their own lives, for well do I know their extreme affection for me; notwithstanding all this, however, notwithstanding the gratitude with which their love ought to inspire, and indeed does inspire me, I must yield to the passion that consumes me. But, what! Is it not in hopes of making them more happy that I am about to expose my life? Yes, doubtless, their interest is bound up with the desire that urges me on, and I feel sure that if my father were here, far from opposing my design, he would rather excite me to its speedy execution. My resolution is taken; waste no more time in trying to dissuade me; nothing shall shake my determination."

When the widow found that her young guest would not heed her advice, her grief increased. "So it must be, then, sir," continued she; "you will not be restrained from rushing headlong on your destruction. Why was it ordained that you should come to lodge in my house? why did I speak of Tourandocte? You became enamoured of her from the description I gave of her; wretched woman that I am, it is I who have caused your ruin; why must I reproach myself with your death?"

"No, my good mother," said the prince of the Nagäis, interrupting her a second time, "you are not the cause of my misfortune; do not blame yourself because I love the princess; I am to love her, and do but fulfil my destiny. Besides, how do you know that I shall not be able to reply to her questions? I am not without understanding, and I have studied much; and Heaven may have reserved for me the honour of delivering the king of China from the grief with which his frightful oath overwhelms him. But," added he, drawing out the purse which the khan of Berlas had given him, and which still contained a considerable quantity of gold pieces, "as my success is after all uncertain, and I may chance to die, I make you a present of this purse to console you for my death. You may sell my horse and keep the money, for it will be of no more use to me, whether the daughter of Altoun-Khan become the reward of my boldness, or my death be the mournful forfeit of my audacity."

The widow took the purse from Khalaf, saying, "O my son, you are much mistaken if you imagine that these pieces of gold will console me for your loss. I will employ them in good works, I will distribute a portion among the poor in the hospitals, who bear their afflictions with patience, and whose prayers are consequently acceptable to Heaven; the remainder I will give to the ministers of our religion, that they all may pray together that Heaven may inspire you, and not suffer you to perish. All the favour I ask you is, not to go to-day and present yourself to answer the questions of Tourandocte; wait till to-morrow, the time is not long; grant me that interval to enlist the hearts of the pious in your behalf, and propitiate our Prophet in your favour, after that you can do as you think best. I pray you to grant me that favour; I am bold to say that you owe it to one who has conceived so great a friendship for you, that she would be inconsolable if you were to die."

Indeed Khalaf's appearance had made a favourable impression upon her, for, besides being one of the handsomest princes in the world, his manners were so easy and pleasing that it was impossible to see him without loving him. He was moved by the grief and affection the good lady exhibited. "Well, my mother," said he, "I will do as you desire me; and I will not go to-day to ask the hand of the princess; but, to speak my sentiments frankly, I don't believe that even your prophet Jacmouny will be able to make me forego my determination."

The following morning, the prince appeared more determined than ever to demand Tourandocte. "Adieu, my good mother," said he, to the widow. "I am sorry that you have given yourself so much trouble on my account; you might have spared it, for I assured you yesterday that I should be of the same mind." With these words, he left the widow, who, giving herself up to the deepest sorrow, covered her face with her veil, and sat with her head on her knees, overwhelmed with indescribable grief.

The young prince of the Nagäis, perfumed with rare scents and more beautiful than the moon, repaired to the palace. He found at the gate five elephants, and, on each side, a line of two thousand soldiers, with helmets on their heads, armed with shields, and covered with plate armour. One of the principal officers in command of the troops, judging from Khalaf's air that he was a stranger, stopped him, and demanded his business at the palace.

"I am a foreign prince," replied the son of Timurtasch. "I am come to present myself to the king, and pray him to grant me permission to reply to the questions of the princess his daughter."

The officer, at these words, regarding him with astonishment, said to him, "Prince, do you know that you come to seek death? You would have done more wisely to have remained in your own country, than form the design which brings you hither; retrace your steps, and do not flatter yourself with the deceitful hope that you will obtain the hand of the cruel Tourandocte. Although you may have studied until you have become more learned in science than all the mandarins, you will never be able to fathom the meaning of her ambiguous questions."

"Accept my heartfelt thanks," replied Khalaf; "but, believe me, I am not come thus far to retreat."

"Go on to your certain death, then," returned the officer, in a tone of chagrin, "since it is impossible to restrain you." At the same moment, he allowed him to enter the palace, and then, turning towards some other officers who had been listening to their conversation, he said, "How handsome and well-grown this young prince is. It is a pity he should die so early."

Khalaf traversed several saloons, and, at length, found himself in the hall where the king was accustomed to give audience to his people. In it was placed the steel throne of Cathay, made in the form of a dragon, three cubits high; four lofty columns, of the same material, supported above it a vast canopy of yellow satin, ornamented with precious stones. Altoun-Khan, dressed in a caftan of gold brocade upon a crimson ground, was seated on his throne, with an air of gravity which was in admirable keeping with his long moustache and ample beard. The monarch, after listening to some of his subjects, cast his eyes by chance to where the prince of the Nagäis stood amongst the crowd; he saw, at once, by his noble bearing and splendid dress, that he was not a man of common birth; he pointed out Khalaf to one of his mandarins, and gave an order, in an undertone, to learn his rank, and the reason of his visit to his court.

The mandarin approached the son of Timurtasch, and told him that the king desired to know who he was, and whether he wished to make any request of the king. "You may tell the king, your master," replied the prince, "that I am the only son of a king, and that I am come to endeavour to merit the honour of becoming his son-in-law."

Altoun-Khan no sooner learned the reply of the prince of the Nagäis, than he changed colour; his august countenance became pale as death, he broke up the audience, and dismissed all the people; he then descended from his throne, and, approaching Khalaf, "Rash young man," said he, "are you aware of the severity of my edict, and of the miserable fate of those who have hitherto persisted in their desire to obtain the hand of the princess my daughter?"

"Yes, my lord," replied the son of Timurtasch, "I know all the danger I incur; my eyes have witnessed the just and severe punishment your majesty inflicted upon the prince of Samarcand; but the deplorable end of the audacious youths who have flattered themselves with the sweet, though vain, hope of possessing the princess Tourandocte, only stimulates the desire I have of deserving her."

"What madness!" rejoined the king; "scarcely has one prince lost his life, than another presents himself to share the same fate; it appears as though they took a pleasure in sacrificing themselves. What blindness! Reconsider the step you are taking, and be less prodigal of your blood; you inspire me with more pity than any who have hitherto come to seek their destruction; I feel a growing inclination towards you, and wish to do all in my power to hinder you from perishing. Return to your father's kingdom, and do not inflict upon him the pain of learning from strangers' lips the sad intelligence that he will never more behold his only son."

"My lord," replied Khalaf, "I am overjoyed to hear, from your majesty's own lips, that I have the honour of pleasing you; I draw a happy presage from it. It may be that Heaven, touched by the misfortunes caused by the beauty of the princess, will use me as a means of putting an end to them, and securing you, at the same time, tranquillity for the remainder of your life, which the necessity of authorizing these cruel deeds disturbs. Can you be sure that I shall not be able to answer the questions that may be put to me? What certainty have you that I shall perish? If others have been unable to fathom the depths of the obscure propositions of Tourandocte, is it to be concluded that I cannot penetrate their meaning? No, my lord, their example shall never make me renounce the brilliant honour of having you for a father-in-law."

"Ah! unhappy prince," replied the king, melting into tears, "you wish to die; all the princes who have presented themselves before you, to answer the fatal questions put by my daughter, used the same language; they all hoped that they could penetrate her meaning, and not one was able to do so. Alas! you will be the dupe of your own confidence. Once more, my son, let me dissuade you. I love you, and wish to save you; do not frustrate my good intentions by your obstinacy; whatever confidence you may feel, distrust it. You deceive yourself, if you imagine that you will be able to answer upon the spot what the princess may propose to you; you will, it is true, have seven minutes to answer in; that is the rule. But if in that time you do not give a satisfactory reply, and one that shall be approved of by all the doctors and wise men who are appointed the judges, that moment you will be declared worthy of death, and on the following night will be conducted to execution. So, prince, retire; pass the rest of the day in considering what is your duty in reference to the step you propose to take; consult wise persons, reflect well, and to-morrow let me know your determination." When the king had finished speaking, he dismissed Khalaf, who immediately quitted the palace, much mortified that he was obliged to wait till the next day, for he was no way daunted by what the king had said. He returned to his hostess without exhibiting the least concern about the danger to which he had determined to expose himself. As soon as he presented himself to the widow, and had related all that had passed at the palace, she began to remonstrate with him afresh, and bring every argument she could think of into play to dissuade him from his enterprise; but her efforts were crowned with no better success, and she had the mortification of seeing that they only inflamed her young guest more, and strengthened him in his resolution. The next day the prince returned to the palace, and was announced to the king, who received him in his cabinet, not wishing any one to be present at their interview.

"Well, prince," began Altoun-Khan, "am I to rejoice or grieve at your presence here to-day? What is your determination?"

"My lord," replied Khalaf, "I am in the same mind as yesterday. Before I had the honour of presenting myself then before your majesty, I had thoroughly reflected upon the matter; and I am still prepared to suffer the same punishment as my rivals, if Heaven has not otherwise ordained." At these words the king smote his breast, rent his clothes, and plucked the hairs from his beard.

"Wretched man that I am!" cried he, "that I should have conceived such friendship for him. The death of the others has not caused me half the pain which his will occasion me. Ah! my son," continued he, embracing the prince of the Nagäis with a tenderness that caused him deep emotion, "yield to my grief, if my arguments are not able to shake thee. I feel that the blow which takes thy life will strike my heart with deadly force. Renounce, I conjure thee, the hope of possessing my cruel daughter; thou wilt find in the world plenty of other princesses whom thou mayst gain with more ease and as much honour. Why persevere in the pursuit of an inhuman creature whom thou wilt never be able to obtain? Remain, if thou wilt, in my court; thou shalt hold the first rank after me; thou shalt have beautiful slaves; pleasures shall follow thee wherever thou goest; in a word, I will look on thee as my own son. Desist from thy pursuit of Tourandocte. Oh! let me at least have the joy of rescuing one victim from the sanguinary princess."

The son of Timurtasch was deeply moved by the friendship which the king of China exhibited towards him; but he replied, "My lord, let me for pity's sake expose myself to the danger from which you seek to deter me; the greater it is, the more do I feel myself tempted to encounter it. I must avow that even the cruelty of the princess stimulates my love. I feel an inward pleasure in the thought that I am the happy mortal who is to triumph over this proud beauty. For Heaven's sake, your majesty," pursued he, "cease to oppose a design which my glory, my repose, my life even render it necessary for me to prosecute; for, truly, I cannot live unless I obtain Tourandocte."

Altoun-Khan, perceiving that Khalaf was not to be moved, was overwhelmed with affliction. "Ah! rash youth," said he, "thy death-warrant is sealed, since thou art still determined to persist in demanding my daughter. Heaven is witness that I have done all in my power to inspire thee with rational thoughts. Thou rejectest my counsel, and lovest rather to perish than follow it; let us say no more; thou wilt receive the reward of thy mad constancy. I consent to thy undertaking to answer the questions of Tourandocte, but I must first pay thee the honour which I am accustomed to bestow upon princes who seek my alliance."

At these words he called the chief of his first band of eunuchs; he ordered him to conduct Khalaf into the princes' palace, and to assign him two hundred eunuchs to wait upon him.

The prince of the Nagäis had scarcely entered the palace to which the eunuch conducted him, before the principal mandarins came to salute him, which they did in the following manner: they placed themselves on their knees before him, bowed their heads to the ground, saying one after the other, "Prince, the perpetual servant of your illustrious race comes to make his obeisance to you." They then all made him presents and retired.

The king, who felt the greatest friendship for the son of Timurtasch, and pitied him, sent for the most learned professor of the royal college, and said to him, "There is a new prince, who has come to my court to demand the hand of my daughter. I have spared no pains to induce him to renounce his intention, but without success. I wish thee to exert thine eloquence in endeavouring to make him listen to reason. It is for this I have sent for thee." The professor obeyed. He went to Khalaf and entered into a long conversation with him; after which he returned to Altoun-Khan, and said, "My lord, it is impossible to dissuade this young prince; he will absolutely deserve the princess or die. When I saw the futility of attempting to conquer his resolution, I had the curiosity to try and ascertain whether his obstinacy did not proceed from some other cause than his love. I interrogated him upon several different subjects, and I found him so well informed that I was surprised at his learning. He is a Moslem, and appears to me perfectly instructed in all that concerns his religion; in fact, to confess the truth to your majesty, I believe if any prince is capable of replying to the questions of the princess it is he."

"O wise man," cried the king, "I am overjoyed at thy report. Heaven grant that he may become my son-in-law. From the moment he appeared before me I felt an affection for him; may he be more fortunate than the others who came to this city only to seek a grave."

After prayers and sacrifices, the Chinese monarch sent his calao to the prince of the Nagäis with notice that he was to hold himself in readiness to reply to the princess's questions on the next day, and to tell him that the proper officers would come at the right time to conduct him to the divan; and that the persons who were to compose the assembly had already received orders to attend.

Notwithstanding his inflexible determination to persevere in this adventure, Khalaf did not pass a quiet night; if at one time he dared to trust to his genius, and promise himself success, at another, losing confidence, he represented to himself the shame he should endure if his replies did not please the divan; at another time he thought of Elmaze and Timurtasch. "Alas!" said he, "if I die, what will become of my father and mother?"

Day surprised him occupied with these conflicting thoughts. Presently he heard the ringing of bells and beating of drums. He concluded that this was to call to the council all those who were ordered to attend. Then raising his thoughts to Mahomet, "O great prophet," said he, "you behold my difficulties and know my doubts. Inspire me, and reveal to me whether I must go to the divan, or must confess to the king that the danger terrifies me!" He had scarcely pronounced these words, before he felt all his fears vanish and his confidence return. He rose and dressed himself in a caftan, and mantle of red silk worked with gold flowers, which Altoun-Khan had sent him, with stockings and slippers of blue silk.

When he had finished dressing, six mandarins, booted and dressed in very wide robes of crimson, entered his apartment, and after having saluted him in the same manner as on the previous day, informed him that they came from the king to lead him to the divan. He immediately rose and accompanied them; they traversed a court between a double file of soldiers, and when they arrived in the first council-chamber found more than a thousand singers and players upon instruments, who performing in concert produced a wonderful noise. From thence they advanced into the hall, where the council was sitting, and which communicated with the interior palace.

All the persons who were to assist at this assembly were already seated under canopies of different colours arranged round the hall. The mandarins of the highest rank were on one side, the calao with the professors of the college on the other, and several doctors, renowned for their erudition, occupied other seats. In the middle were placed two thrones of gold raised upon triangular pedestals.

As soon as the prince of the Nagäis appeared, the noble and learned assembly saluted him with gestures of great respect, but without speaking a word; for every body, being in expectation of the king's arrival, preserved the strictest silence.

The sun was upon the point of rising. As soon as the first rays of that brilliant luminary were perceived, two eunuchs drew aside the curtains which hung before the door of the inner palace, and immediately the king appeared, accompanied by the princess Tourandocte, who wore a long robe of silk and gold tissue, whilst her face was concealed by a veil of the same material. When the king and princess had taken their seats upon their thrones, which they ascended by five steps of silver, two young girls of perfect beauty approached and stationed themselves, one on the side of the king and the other near the princess. They were slaves of the harem of Altoun-Khan; their faces and necks were exposed; they wore large pearls in their ears; and they stood each with pen and paper, ready to transcribe what the king or the princess might desire. All this time the whole assembly, who had risen upon the entrance of Altoun-Khan, stood up with great gravity and their eyes half closed. Khalaf alone looked about him, or rather looked only at the princess, whose majestic demeanour filled him with admiration.

When the powerful monarch of China had ordered the mandarins and doctors to be seated, one of the six nobles who had conducted Khalaf, and who stood with him at fifteen cubits' distance from the two thrones, kneeled down and read a petition, which contained the demand of the stranger prince for the hand of the princess Tourandocte. He then rose and told Khalaf to make three salutations to the king. The prince of the Nagäis acquitted himself with so much grace, that Altoun-Khan could not refrain from smiling and expressing the pleasure he experienced in seeing him.

The calao then rose from his place and read with a loud voice the fatal edict, which condemned to death all the rash lovers who should fail to reply satisfactorily to the questions of Tourandocte. Then addressing Khalaf, "Prince," said he, "you have just heard the conditions upon which alone the princess's hand is to be obtained. If the sense of danger makes any impression upon you, there is still time to retire."

"No, no!" said the prince; "the prize to be carried off is too precious to be lost by cowardice."

The king, seeing Khalaf ready to reply to the questions of Tourandocte, turned towards the princess and said, "My daughter, it is for you to speak; propose to this young prince the questions which you have prepared; and may all the spirits to whom sacrifices were offered yesterday grant that he may penetrate the meaning of your words."

Tourandocte thereupon said, "I take the prophet Jacmouny to witness, that I behold with sorrow the death of so many princes; but why do they persist in desiring to wed me? why will they not leave me to live in peace without making attempts on my liberty? Know then, rash young man," added she, addressing Khalaf, "that you cannot reproach me if you suffer a cruel death; you have the examples of your rivals before your eyes; you alone are the cause of your own destruction; I do not oblige you to come and ask my hand."

"Lovely princess," replied the prince of the Nagäis, "I am fully alive to all that has been said upon this subject; propound, if you please, your questions, and I will endeavour to unravel their meaning."

"Well then," said Tourandocte, "tell me what creature is that which belongs to every land, is a friend to the whole world, and will not brook an equal?"

"Madam," replied Khalaf, "it is the sun."

"He is right," exclaimed all the doctors, "it is the sun."

"What is that mother," resumed the princess, "who, after having brought her children into the world, devours them when they are grown up?"

"It is the sea," replied the prince of the Nagäis; "because the rivers, which draw their sources from the sea, discharge themselves into it again."

Tourandocte, seeing that the prince gave correct replies to her questions, was so vexed that she resolved to spare no effort to destroy him. Exerting all her ingenuity, she next asked, "What tree is that whose leaves are white on one side and black on the other?" She was not satisfied with proposing the riddle alone; the malignant princess, in order to dazzle and confuse him, raised her veil at the same moment, and allowed the assembly to see all the beauty of her countenance, the haughty charms of which were only enhanced by the violence of her emotions. Her head was adorned with natural flowers arranged with infinite art, and her eyes shone more brilliantly than the stars. She was as lovely as the sun in all his splendour, when he emerges from a thick cloud. The son of Timurtasch, at the sight of this incomparable princess, remained mute and motionless; so much so, that all the divan, who were deeply interested in him, were seized with terror; the king himself grew pale, and thought that the prince was lost for ever.

But Khalaf, recovering from the surprise that the beauty of Tourandocte had caused him, quickly reassured the assembly by resuming, "Charming princess, I pray you pardon me if I remained for some moments speechless; I could not behold so much loveliness without being disturbed. Have the goodness to repeat the question, for I no longer remember it; your charms have made me forget every thing."

"I asked you," said Tourandocte, "what tree is that whose leaves are white on one side and black on the other?"

"That tree," replied Khalaf, "is the year, which is composed of days and nights."

This reply was again applauded in the divan. The mandarins and the doctors said that it was correct, and bestowed a thousand praises on the young prince. Altoun-Khan said to Tourandocte, "Come, my daughter, confess thyself vanquished, and consent to espouse thy conqueror; the others were not able to reply to even one of thy questions, and this one, thou seest, has answered them all."

"He has _not_ gained the victory," angrily retorted the princess, replacing her veil to conceal her confusion and the tears she was not able to repress; "I have others to propose to him. But I will defer them till to-morrow."

"No," replied the king, "I will certainly not permit you to propose questions without end: all that I can allow you is to ask him one more, and that immediately."

The princess objected, saying that she had only prepared those which had just been answered, and entreated the king, her father, for permission to interrogate the prince on the following day.

"I will certainly not grant it," cried the monarch of China, in a rage; "you are only endeavouring to perplex this young prince, while I am eagerly grasping at the prospect of escaping from the frightful oath I had the imprudence to make. Ah! cruel one, you breathe nothing but blood, and the death of your lovers is a pleasant sight to you. The queen, your mother, touched by the first misfortunes your cruelty caused, died of grief at having brought into the world so barbarous a child; and I, you know well, am plunged into a state of profound melancholy, which nothing can dissipate, whilst I behold the fatal results of the love I entertained for you; but, thanks to the sun, and the moon, and the spirits who preside in the heavens, and by whom my sacrifices have been regarded with a propitious eye, no more of those horrible executions which have rendered my name execrable shall be committed in my palace. Since this prince has answered your questions satisfactorily, I ask all this assembly if it is not right that you should become his wife?"

The mandarins and the doctors expressed their assent in murmurs, and the calao took upon himself to speak. "My lord," said he, addressing the king, "your majesty is no longer bound by the oath you made, to execute your severe edict; it is for the princess to fulfil her engagement. She promised her hand to him who should answer her questions correctly; a prince has answered them, to the satisfaction of the whole divan; she must keep her promise, or we cannot doubt that the spirits who preside over the punishment of perjurers will quickly take vengeance upon her."

Tourandocte kept silence during the delivery of this speech; she sat with her head on her knees, and appeared buried in deep affliction. Khalaf, perceiving this, prostrated himself before Altoun-Khan, and said, "Great king, whose justice and goodness have raised the vast empire of China to such prosperity, I beg of your majesty to grant me a favour. I see that the princess is in despair at my having been so fortunate as to reply to her questions; doubtless she would rather it had so happened that I should have deserved death. Since she exhibits so strong an aversion to me, that, in spite of her promise, she refuses to become my wife, I will renounce my right to her, on condition that she, on her part, replies correctly to a question which I shall propose."

The whole assembly was surprised at this speech. "Is this young prince mad," they whispered one to another, "to risk the loss of that for which he perilled his life? Does he imagine he can propose a question that will be too difficult for Tourandocte to solve? He must have lost his senses." Altoun-Khan was also amazed at the request which Khalaf had the temerity to make. "Prince," said he, "have you reflected upon the words which have just escaped your lips?"

"Yes, my lord," replied the prince of the Nagäis, "and I implore you to grant me this favour."

"I grant it," returned the king; "but, whatever be the result, I declare that I am no longer bound by the oath I made, and that, henceforth, I will not cause another prince to be put to death."

"Divine Tourandocte," resumed the son of Timurtasch, addressing the princess, "you have heard what I said. Although the decision of this learned assembly has awarded to me the prize of your hand, although you are mine, I will give you back your liberty, I will yield up possession of you, I will despoil myself of a treasure precious to me above all things, provided you reply at once to a question I shall ask; but, on your part, swear that if you cannot, you will consent willingly to complete my happiness and crown my love."

"Yes, prince," replied Tourandocte, "I accept the conditions, and I take this assembly as witnesses of my oath."

All the divan awaited, in breathless suspense, the question that Khalaf was to propose to the princess, and there was not one who did not blame the young prince for exposing himself to the risk of losing the daughter of Altoun-Khan; they were all amazed at his temerity. "Lovely princess," said Khalaf, "what is the name of that prince who, after suffering a thousand hardships, and being reduced even to beg his bread, finds himself, at this moment, overwhelmed with glory and joy?"

"It is impossible," said Tourandocte, "for me to reply to that question on the spot, but I promise that to-morrow I will tell you the name of that prince."

"Madam," cried Khalaf, "I asked no time for consideration, and it is not right to grant you any; still, I will grant you your wish; I hope, after that, you will look more favourably on me, and not oppose any further difficulty to your becoming my bride."

"She must make up her mind to that," said Altoun-Khan, "if she cannot reply to the question proposed. Let her not think by falling ill, or pretending to do so, that she will thereby escape. Even if my rash oath should not bind me to grant him her hand, and she were not his according to the tenor of the edict, I would rather let her die, than send this young prince away. Where would it be possible for her to meet with one more perfectly worthy of her?" With these words, he rose and dismissed the assembly. He re-entered the inner palace with the princess, who retired to her own apartments.

As soon as the king had left the divan, all the mandarins and doctors complimented Khalaf upon his wit and understanding. "I admire," said one, "your ready and easy conception." "No!" said another, "there is not a bachelor licentiate, or doctor even, of greater penetration than you. Not one of all the princes who has presented themselves hitherto, in the least degree approached your merit, and we feel the most heartfelt joy at your success." The prince of the Nagäis had no light task to perform in thanking all those who pressed round him to congratulate him. At length, the six mandarins who had conducted him to the council-chamber, led him back to the same palace whence they had brought him, whilst the others, together with the learned doctors retired, not without anxiety about the answer which the daughter of Altoun-Khan would return to the question.

The princess Tourandocte regained her palace, followed by the two young slaves who enjoyed her confidence. No sooner had she entered into her apartment, than she tore off her veil, and throwing herself upon a couch, gave free vent to the grief and rage which agitated her; shame and sorrow were depicted on her countenance; her eyes already bedimmed with tears, overflowed afresh; she tore off the flowers that adorned her head, and allowed her hair to fall about her in confusion. Her two favourite slaves attempted to console her, but she only said bitterly, "Leave me, both of you, cease your useless attentions. I will listen to nothing but my despair; leave me alone to pour forth my tears and lamentations. Ah! how great will be my confusion to-morrow, when I shall be forced to acknowledge before the whole council, and the wisest doctors of China, that I cannot solve the question. Is that, they will say, the transcendent princess who prides herself upon knowing every thing, and to whom the solution of the most difficult enigma presented no difficulty?"

"Alas!" continued she, "they all take an interest in this young prince. I noticed them grow pale with anxiety when he appeared embarrassed. I saw their faces beaming with joy when he penetrated the meaning of my questions. I shall have the bitter mortification of seeing them again rejoice at my confusion, when I shall have to confess myself conquered. How great will be their delight when I make the degrading avowal, and what agony must I endure in making it."

"My princess," said one of her slaves, "instead of afflicting yourself beforehand, instead of picturing to yourself the shame you fear to suffer to-morrow, would it not be better to think of some means of preventing it? Is the question the prince has proposed so difficult, that you cannot answer it? with the genius and penetration you possess, can you not accomplish it?"

"No," said Tourandocte, "it is impossible. He asks me to name the prince who, after suffering a thousand hardships, and being reduced to beg his bread, is, at this moment, overwhelmed with joy and glory? I feel assured that he is himself that prince, but not knowing him, I cannot tell his name."

"Still, madam," rejoined the same slave, "you have promised to name that prince to-morrow; when you made that promise, you hoped, doubtless, to be able to fulfil it."

"I had no hope," replied the princess, "and I only demanded time to die of grief, rather than be obliged to acknowledge my shame, and marry the prince."

"The resolution is a violent one," said the other favourite slave. "I know well that no man is worthy of you, but you must allow that this prince possesses singular merits; his beauty, his noble bearing, and his ready wit ought to plead in his favour."

"I grant it all," interrupted the princess. "If there is any prince in the world who is worthy of my regards, it is he. Indeed, I will not deny it, that I grieved for him, before I put my questions to him; I sighed when I beheld him, and--what has never happened till to-day--I almost hoped he would reply to my questions correctly. It is true that, at the same moment, I blushed at my weakness, but my pride got the better of me, and the apt answers he made excited my abhorrence towards him; all the commendations which the doctors bestowed on him so deeply mortified me, that I then felt, and still feel, the most bitter hatred against him. O unhappy Tourandocte, lay thee down and die of vexation and grief, at having found a man, and he a youth, who has been able to load thee with disgrace, and compel thee to become his wife."

At these words she redoubled her tears, and in the transport of her rage spared neither her hair nor her clothes. She raised her hands more than once towards her cheeks to tear them, and punish them as the prime authors of the disgrace she had endured; but her slaves, who were watching her frenzy, prevented her. They tried, however, in vain to console her; they could not calm the fury of her agitation. Whilst she was in this fearful state of excitement, the prince of the Nagäis, charmed with the result, and overwhelmed with joy, delivered himself up to the hope of bearing off his bride the next day.

The king, having returned from the council-chamber, sent for Khalaf to talk over in private the events which had taken place at the divan. The prince of the Nagäis hastened to obey the orders of the monarch, who, after embracing him with great tenderness, said, "Ah! my son, release me from the anxiety I am suffering. I fear lest my daughter should be able to answer the question you have proposed. Why have you risked the danger of losing the object of your love?"

"Let not your majesty be under the least apprehension," replied Khalaf; "it is impossible that the princess can tell me who the prince is whose name I have asked, for I am that prince, and no one in your court knows me."

"This gives me fresh hope," cried the king in a transport of joy; "I confess I was most anxious about you. Tourandocte is very shrewd; the subtlety of her wit made me tremble for you; but, thank Heaven, you dispel my doubts. However great her facility of penetrating the sense of enigmas, she cannot guess your name. I can no longer accuse you of temerity; and I see what appeared to me a lack of prudence, is an ingenious device you have formed to remove every pretext for my daughter's refusal."

Altoun-Khan, after laughing with Khalaf at the question proposed to the princess, prepared to enjoy the diversion of the chase. He dressed himself in a light and close-fitting caftan, and enclosed his beard in a bag of black satin. He ordered the mandarins to hold themselves in readiness to accompany him, and commanded a hunting-dress to be given to the prince of the Nagäis. They partook of a slight repast, and then quitted the palace. The mandarins, in open palanquins of ivory inlaid with gold, headed the procession, each carried by six men; two men armed with whips of cord marched before each palanquin, and two others followed with tablets of silver, upon which were written in large characters all the mandarin's titles. The king and Khalaf, in an open litter of red sandalwood, carried by twenty military officers, on whose dresses were embroidered in silver the monarch's monogram and badges,--the latter consisting of several figures of animals,--appeared next. After the mandarins, two generals of Altoun-Khan's army marched on either side of the litter, carrying large fans or umbrellas to ward off the heat, and three thousand eunuchs on foot completed the cortége.

When they arrived at the place where the hunters awaited the king with the falcons, the sport began by flying hawks at quails; this diversion lasted till sunset, when the king and the prince, and the persons of their suites, returned to the palace in the same order in which they had left. They found in the court several pavilions of silk of different colours, a great number of small tables, beautifully polished and covered with all sorts of viands ready cut up. As soon as the king had taken his seat, Khalaf and the mandarins sat down, each at a little separate table, near which stood another, which served as a buffet. They all began by drinking several bumpers of rice wine before touching the viands; they then proceeded to eat without drinking any more. The banquet ended, the king, Altoun-Khan, led the prince of the Nagäis into a large hall, brilliantly illuminated, and fitted up with seats arranged for seeing some spectacle, and they were followed by all the mandarins. The king appointed each his place, and made Khalaf sit near him, upon a large ebony throne, inlaid with gold tracery.

As soon as the company had taken their places, singers and musicians entered, who commenced an agreeable concert. Altoun-Khan was delighted with it. Infatuated with the Chinese music, he asked the son of Timurtasch, from time to time, what he thought of it, and the young prince, out of politeness, gave it the highest rank of all the music in the world. The concert finished, the singers and musicians retired, to make room for an artificial elephant, which having advanced by secret springs into the middle of the hall, vomited forth six vaulters, who began by making some perilous leaps. They were attired in very thin dresses; they had on only drawers of Indian cloth, caps of brocade, and light shoes. After they had exhibited their agility and suppleness by a thousand extraordinary performances, they re-entered the elephant, which went away as it came. Next, there appeared players, who performed, impromptu, a piece, the subject of which the king chose. When all these diversions were finished, and the night was far advanced, Altoun-Khan and Khalaf rose, to retire to their apartments, and the mandarins followed their example.

The young prince of the Nagäis, conducted by eunuchs bearing wax candles in gold candelabra, was preparing to taste the sweets of repose as well as his impatience to return to the divan would permit him, when on entering his chamber, he found a young lady, dressed in a robe of red brocade with silver flowers, and adorned with rubies and emeralds; she wore a head-dress of rose-coloured silk, ornamented with pearls and bound by a very light silver border, which only covered the top of her head, and allowed her beautiful hair to escape, which hung down in ringlets, adorned with a few artificial flowers; as to her figure and face it was impossible to see any more beautiful and perfect except that of the princess of China.

The son of Timurtasch was much surprised at meeting a lady alone, and so beautiful, at midnight in his room. He could not have looked upon her with indifference, had he not seen Tourandocte; but as the lover of that princess he had no eyes for any other.

As soon as the lady perceived Khalaf, she rose from the sofa where she was seated, and upon which she had laid her veil, and after making a low inclination of her head, "Prince," said she, "I doubt not that you are surprised to find a woman here; for you cannot be ignorant that it is rigorously forbidden for men and women who inhabit the harem, to have any communication together; but the importance of the matter that I have to communicate to you, has made me disregard all danger. I have had dexterity and good fortune enough to overcome all the obstacles which opposed my design. I have gained the eunuchs who wait upon you. It now only remains for me to tell you what brought me here."

Khalaf felt interested; he could not doubt but that the lady who had taken so perilous a step, had something to communicate worthy his attention; he begged her to resume her seat on the sofa; they both sat down; and the lady then continued in these terms:

"My lord, I believe I ought to begin by informing you that I am the daughter of a khan, one of the tributaries of Altoun-Khan. Some years ago, my father was bold enough to refuse to pay the usual tribute, and, relying too much upon his experience in the art of war, as well as upon the valour of his troops, prepared to defend himself in case he were attacked. What he expected happened. The king of China irritated by his audacity, sent the most experienced of his generals with a powerful army against him. My father, though considerably weaker in numbers, went out to meet him. After a sanguinary battle, which was fought on the banks of a river, the Chinese general remained victorious. My father, pierced with a thousand wounds, died during the battle, but before his death, he ordered all his wives and children to be thrown into the river, to preserve them from slavery. Those who were charged with the generous, though inhuman order, executed it; they threw me, together with my mother, sisters, and two brothers, whose tender age had kept them with us, into the river. The Chinese general arrived at the spot at the very moment when they had cast us in, and when we were about to finish our miserable existence. This mournful and horrible sight excited his compassion; he promised a reward to any of the soldiers who should save any of the vanquished khan's family. Several Chinese horsemen, in spite of the rapidity of the stream, dashed in, and urged their horses wherever they saw our dying bodies floating. They recovered a few, but their assistance was only of use to me. I still breathed when they brought me to shore. The general took great pains for my recovery, as though the glory acquired by my captivity would bestow a fresh lustre on his victory; he brought me to this city, and presented me to the king, after giving an account of his mission. Altoun-Khan placed me with his daughter the princess, who is two or three years younger than I am.

"Although still a child, I could not help reflecting that I had become a slave, and that I ought to have sentiments conformable to my situation. I therefore studied the disposition of Tourandocte, and strove to please her, and I succeeded so well by my compliance with her wishes and my attentions, that I gained her friendship. From that time I have shared her confidence with a young person of illustrious birth, whom the misfortunes of her family have reduced to slavery.

"Pardon, my lord," she continued, "this narrative which does not bear any relation to the subject that has brought me here. I thought it but right to apprize you that I am of noble blood, that you might place more reliance in me; for the important communication I have to make is such, that an ordinary slave might induce you to give but little credence to what she had to say; and I know not, that even I, though the daughter of a khan, shall be able to influence you: would a prince enamoured of Tourandocte give credit to what I am about to say of her?"

"Princess," replied the son of Timurtasch, interrupting her, "keep me no longer in suspense, tell me, I pray you, at once what you have to say concerning the princess of China."

"My lord," replied the lady, "Tourandocte, the barbarous Tourandocte has formed a plot to assassinate you!"

At these words Khalaf, falling back on the sofa, lay for a moment in a state of horror and amazement.

The slave-princess, who had foreseen the astonishment of the young prince, said,

"I am not surprised that you should thus receive this frightful announcement, and I was right when I doubted that you would believe it."

"Merciful Heaven," cried Khalaf, when he recovered from his stupefaction, "did I hear aright? Is it possible that the princess of China could be guilty of such an atrocious attempt? How could she conceive so base a project?"

"Prince," replied the lady, "I will explain to you how she came to take this horrible resolution. When she left the divan this morning, where I had been stationed behind her throne, I saw that she was mortally enraged at what had taken place; she returned into her apartments writhing under the most bitter feelings of mortification and fury; she pondered over the question you asked her for a long time, and not being able to find a suitable answer, she abandoned herself to despair. While she was in the bath, I spared no means, in which I was seconded by the other favourite slave, to calm the violence of her transports; we tried all in our power to inspire her with sentiments favourable to you; we extolled your person and your talents; we represented to her, that she ought to determine to bestow her hand upon you; we pointed out the unseemliness of such immoderate grief; but she imposed silence upon us, with a torrent of injurious words. The most agreeable and handsome make no more impression upon her than the ugliest and most deformed. 'They are all,' said she, 'objects of my contempt, and for whom I shall always entertain the deepest aversion. As regards him who has presented himself last, I entertain a greater hatred towards him than towards the others, and if I cannot rid myself of him by any other means I will have him assassinated.'

"I opposed this detestable design," continued the slave-princess, "and laid before her the terrible consequences of such a deed. I represented to her the injury she would inflict upon herself, the despair she would occasion the king, and the just horror that future ages would entertain for her memory.

"The other favourite slave supported with all her eloquence the arguments I adduced, but all our persuasions were of no avail; we could not turn her from her purpose. She has entrusted her faithful eunuchs with orders to take your life to-morrow morning as you leave your palace to repair to the divan."

"O inhuman princess, perfidious Tourandocte," cried the prince of the Nagäis, "is it thus you prepare to crown the affection of the unhappy son of Timurtasch? Has Khalaf indeed appeared so hateful to you, that you would rather rid yourself of him by a crime that will dishonour you, than unite your destiny with his? Great Heaven! how chequered with strange events is my life! At one moment I seem to enjoy happiness that the greatest might envy, at another I am plunged into a whirlpool of misery."

"My lord," said the slave-princess, "if Heaven ordains that you should suffer misfortunes, it does not will that you should sink beneath their weight, since it warns you of the dangers that threaten you. Yes, prince, it is Heaven that has doubtless inspired me with the thought of saving you, for I come not only to point out the snare laid for your life, I come also to furnish you with means to escape. By the assistance of some eunuchs who are devoted to me, I have gained over the soldiers of the guard, who will facilitate your flight from the serail. As they will not fail to make a searching investigation, when they know of your departure, and discover that I am the author of it, I am resolved to fly with you, and escape from this court, where I have more than one cause for discontent; my state of bondage makes me hate it, and you make it still more odious to me.

"Let us waste no time; come, and let to-morrow's sun, when he begins his course, find us far, far from Pekin.

"In a certain spot in the town," continued she, "horses await us; let us fly, and reach if possible the territory of the tribe of Berlas."

Khalaf replied, "Beautiful princess, I render you a thousand thanks for your wish to save me from the danger with which I am encompassed. Oh! that I could, to prove my gratitude, deliver you from your slavery, and conduct you in safety to the horde of the khan of Berlas your relation. With what pleasure would I place you in his hands! I should thereby repay some of the obligations I lie under to him. But I ask you, princess, ought I thus to steal away from Altoun-Khan? What would he think of me? He would believe that I came to his court for the sole purpose of carrying you off, and at the very time when I should be flying, only that I might save his daughter from perpetrating a fearful crime, he would be accusing me of violating the laws of hospitality. Ah! must I confess it, cruel though the princess of China be, I could never find in my foolish heart to hate her? Whatever misfortune may be in store for me, I cannot consent to so ignominious a flight. I acknowledge that charms like yours would amply repay your liberator, and that my days with you might pass in the greatest bliss, but I am not born to be happy, my destiny is to love Tourandocte; despite the aversion she feels towards me, I should wear out my days in endless sorrow, were they spent away from her."

"Well then, ingrate, remain," cried the lady passionately, interrupting him, "and let the spot in which thy happiness is concentrated be sprinkled with thy blood." Saying these words, she replaced her veil, and quitted the apartment.

The young prince, after the lady had retired, remained upon the sofa in a state of bewilderment. "Must I believe," said he, "what I have just heard? Can she carry her cruelty thus far? Alas! I dare not doubt it, for the slave-princess's expressions of horror at Tourandocte's plot were so natural--the risks she ran in coming herself to warn me of it so great, and the feelings she displayed so unquestionable,--that all are pledges of the truthfulness of her words. Ah! cruel daughter of the best of kings, is it thus that you abuse the gifts with which Heaven has endowed you? O Heaven! how couldst thou confer on this barbarous princess so much beauty, or why adorn so inhuman a soul with so many charms?"

Instead of seeking a few hours' sleep, he passed the night, distracted with the most painful reflections. At length day appeared, the ringing of the bells and beating of drums was again heard, and shortly after six mandarins arrived to conduct him to the council-chamber, as on the preceding day. He traversed the court where the soldiers were arranged in two files: he expected to meet his death at this spot, and that it was here the persons who had been appointed to assassinate him were posted, in order to despatch him as he passed. Far from thinking of defending himself or putting himself upon his guard, he walked on like a man prepared to die; he even appeared to chide the delay of his assassins. He passed through the court, however, without any attack being made upon him, and reached the first hall of the divan. "Ah! doubtless it is here," thought he, "that the sanguinary order of the princess is to be put in execution." He looked around him on all sides, and thought he saw in every one he surveyed a murderer. He nevertheless advanced and entered the hall where the council was sitting, without receiving the deadly stroke which he thought awaited him.

All the doctors and mandarins were already seated under their canopies, and Altoun-Khan was momentarily expected. "What can be the design of the princess?" thought he. "Can she wish to be an eye-witness of my death, and does she desire to have me assassinated before the eyes of her father? Can the king be an accomplice in the deed? What am I to think? Can he have changed his mind, and issued the order for my death?"

Whilst his thoughts were occupied with these doubts, the door of the inner palace opened, and the king, accompanied by Tourandocte, entered the hall. They took their seats upon their thrones, and the prince of the Nagäis stood before them, at the same distance as on the day before.

When the calao saw the king seated, he rose, and demanded of the young prince whether he remembered having promised to renounce the hand of the princess if she answered the question which he had proposed. Khalaf replied that he did, and again declared that in that event, he would renounce all claim to the honour of being the king's son-in-law. The calao then addressed Tourandocte, and said, "And you, great princess, you are aware of the oath that binds you, and of the penalty to which you are subjected if you do not this day declare the name of the prince, which you are required to give."

The king, persuaded that she could not reply to the question of Khalaf, said to her, "My daughter, you have had ample time to consider the question which was proposed to you; but if you had a whole year to think of it, I believe that in spite of your sagacity you would be obliged, at the end of it, to acknowledge that it is something which even you could not reveal. So, as you cannot guess, yield with good grace to the love of this young prince, and satisfy the wish I feel that he should be your husband. He is worthy of being so, and of reigning with you, after my death, over the people of this mighty empire."

"My lord," replied Tourandocte, "why do you think that I shall not be able to reply to the question of this prince? It is not so difficult as you imagine. I suffered the shame of a defeat yesterday, but to-day I look forward to the honour of a victory. I will confound this rash young man who has entertained so mean an opinion of my talents. Let him put the question, and I will answer it."

"Madam," thereupon said the prince of the Nagäis, "I ask, what is the name of that prince who, after suffering a thousand hardships, and being reduced to beg his bread, finds himself at this moment covered with glory, and overwhelmed with joy?"

"This prince," replied Tourandocte, "is named Khalaf, and he is the son of Timurtasch."

When Khalaf heard his name he changed colour, a dark mist seemed to cover his eyes, and he fell senseless to the ground. The king and all the mandarins, judging from this that Tourandocte had answered correctly, and had given the prince's real name, grew pale, and sat in great consternation.

After Khalaf had recovered from his swoon, through the attentions of the mandarins and the king himself, who had quitted his throne to come to his assistance, he thus addressed Tourandocte:

"Beautiful princess, you are mistaken if you think you have given a fitting answer to my question; the son of Timurtasch is not covered with glory, and overwhelmed with joy; he is rather covered with shame, and overwhelmed with grief."

"I agree with you," replied the princess, "that at this moment you are not overwhelmed with glory and joy, but you were so when you proposed this question; so, prince, instead of having recourse to vain quibbles, confess honestly that you have lost your right to Tourandocte. I therefore can, if I choose, refuse you my hand, and abandon you to the regret of having lost your prize; nevertheless, I will acknowledge to you, and declare here publicly, that I entertain different feelings towards you to what I did. The friendship my father has conceived for you, and your own merit, have determined me to take you for my husband."

At these words all etiquette was for a moment forgotten; the council-chamber resounded with shouts of joy. The mandarins and doctors applauded the words of Tourandocte. The king approached her, and kissing her, said, "My child, you could not have formed a decision more agreeable to me; by this act you will efface the bad impression you have made upon the minds of my people, and you confer upon your father a joy to which he has long been a stranger, and which hitherto he had hoped for in vain. Yes, that aversion you entertained for marriage, that aversion so contrary to nature, robbed me of the sweet hope of seeing princes of my own blood spring from you. Happily, that aversion has ceased, and what crowns my wishes is, that you have extinguished it in favour of a young hero who is dear to me. But tell us," added he, "how you have been able to guess the name of a prince who was unknown to you."

"My lord," replied Tourandocte, "it was not by enchantment that I learned it; it was by perfectly natural means. One of my slaves sought the prince Khalaf, and had subtlety enough to rob him of his secret, and I hope he will forgive me for taking advantage of this treachery, since I have made no worse use of it."

"Ah! charming Tourandocte," hereupon cried the prince of the Nagäis, "is it possible that you entertain such favourable sentiments towards me? From what a frightful abyss do you draw me, to raise me to the height of bliss! Alas, how unjust was I! whilst you were preparing such a glorious fate for me I thought you guilty of the blackest of all treachery. Deceived by a horrible fable which darkened my reason, I repaid your good intentions with injurious doubts. Oh! what impatience do I feel to expiate my unjust suspicions at your feet."

Altoun-Khan ordered the preparations for the marriage of Khalaf and Tourandocte to be set on foot, and whilst they were engaged about them he sent ambassadors to the tribe of Berlas, to inform the khan of the Nagäis of all that had taken place in China, and to beg him to come with the princess his wife.

The preparations being concluded, the marriage was celebrated with all the pomp and magnificence which belonged to the high birth of the happy pair. Khalaf was raised to the rank of the highest subject, and the king himself made a public declaration that, to mark his sense of the esteem and consideration he entertained for his son-in-law, he should allow him to dispense with the customary obeisances to his bride. During a whole month nothing was seen at the court but feasting and pageants, and in the city nothing but gaiety and rejoicings.

The possession of Tourandocte did not diminish the love Khalaf entertained for her, and the princess, who had hitherto regarded men with so much contempt, could not but love so perfect a prince. Some time after their marriage the ambassadors whom Altoun-Khan had sent to the country of Berlas returned, bringing with them not only the father and mother of the king's son-in-law, but also prince Almguer, who, to pay honour to Elmaze and Timurtasch, insisted on accompanying them, with the most distinguished of his nobles, and conducting them to Pekin.

The young prince of the Nagäis, apprized of their arrival, immediately rode out to meet them. He found them nearly at the gate of the palace. The joy he felt on seeing his father and mother, and their transports on seeing him, can be scarcely conceived, much less described. They all three embraced each other over and over again, and the tears they shed drew forth corresponding signs of emotion from the Chinese and Tartars who were present.

After these tender embraces, Khalaf saluted the khan of Berlas; he expressed to him how deeply he felt his kindness, and more especially his condescension in himself accompanying his parents to the court of China; the prince Almguer replied that, being ignorant of the rank of Timurtasch and Elmaze, he had not shown towards them the respect that was due to them, and thus to atone for any neglect they might have experienced, he thought it his duty to pay them this mark of honour; the khan of the Nagäis and his wife the princess, however, paid a high tribute to the attentive kindness of the khan of Berlas; they then all entered the palace of the king, to be presented to Altoun-Khan. They found this monarch awaiting them in the first hall. He embraced them all, one after the other, and received them very graciously; he then conducted them into his cabinet, where, after expressing the pleasure he felt at seeing Timurtasch, and his sympathy in his misfortunes, he assured him that he would employ all his power to avenge him on the sultan of Carisma. This was no empty offer, for that very day he despatched orders to the governors of the provinces to march with all speed with the soldiers who were in the towns within their jurisdiction, and to take the route to lake Baljouta, which was chosen for the rendezvous of the formidable army he proposed to assemble there.

For his part, the khan of Berlas, who had foreseen this war, and who wished to assist in the re-establishment of Timurtasch in his dominions, had, previous to his departure from his tribe, ordered the general of his army to be in readiness to take the field at the first summons. He now commanded him also to repair to lake Baljouta with all possible speed.

During the time the officers and soldiers who were to compose the army of Altoun-Khan, and who were dispersed throughout the kingdom, were marching to assemble at the spot indicated, this king spared no pains to express his high consideration for his new guests; he appointed a separate palace to each, with a great number of eunuchs, and a guard of two thousand men. Every day some new fête was contrived for their entertainment, and the king's whole attention seemed turned towards affording them pleasure. Khalaf, although he had now every day a thousand matters to occupy his attention, did not forget his kind hostess; he remembered with gratitude the solicitude she expressed for him; he sent for her to the palace, and begged Tourandocte to receive her amongst her attendants.

The hope that Timurtasch and Elmaze entertained of reascending the throne of the Nagäi-Tartars, by the assistance of the king of China, insensibly made them forget their past troubles; and when Tourandocte gave birth to a beautiful prince, they were quite overwhelmed with joy. The birth of this child, who was named the prince of China, was celebrated in all the cities of this vast empire by public rejoicings.

Whilst these festivities were taking place, news was brought by couriers, sent by the officers who had orders to collect the army, that all the troops of the kingdom, and those of the khan of Berlas, had assembled at lake Baljouta. Immediately Timurtasch, Khalaf, and Almguer set out for the camp, where they found every thing in readiness, and seven hundred thousand men ready to march; they immediately took the read to Kotan, from whence they marched to Raschar, and at length entered the dominions of the sultan of Carisma.

This prince, informed of their numbers, and of the invasion of his territories, by couriers whom the governors of the frontier towns had despatched, far from being alarmed at the number of his enemies, courageously prepared to meet them. Instead even of intrenching himself, he had the boldness to take the field himself, at the head of four hundred thousand men, whom he had hastily collected. The armies met near Cogendi, where they drew up in battle array. On the side of the Chinese, Timurtasch commanded the right wing, prince Almguer the left, and Khalaf the centre. On the other side, the sultan confided the command of his right wing to the ablest of his generals, opposed the prince of Carisma to the prince of the Nagäis, and reserved the left to himself, where the elite of his cavalry were stationed. The khan of Berlas began the attack with the soldiers of his tribe, who, fighting like men who knew the eyes of their master were on them, soon turned the right wing of their enemies; the officer who commanded it, however, succeeded in reforming it almost immediately. Meanwhile the right wing, commanded by Timurtasch, was not so fortunate; the sultan broke them at the first onset, and the Chinese in disorder were on the point of taking flight, in spite of every effort of the khan of the Nagäis, when Khalaf, informed of what had taken place, confided the care of the centre to an experienced Chinese general, and rushed to the assistance of his father at the head of reinforcements. In a short time things assumed a different aspect. The left wing of the Carismians was driven back, and in turn routed; the whole of the ranks fell into disorder and were easily broken--the entire wing was put to flight. The sultan determined to conquer or die, and made incredible efforts to rally his soldiers; but Timurtasch and Khalaf gave them no time, and surrounded them on all sides, whilst prince Almguer having defeated the right wing, victory declared in favour of the Chinese.

There remained but one chance of safety for the sultan of Carisma, and that was to cut his way through the ranks of his enemies, and to take refuge with some foreign prince; but he preferred not surviving his defeat to exhibiting amongst the nations his brow despoiled of the diadem; so rushing blindly into the thickest of the carnage, he fell bravely, fighting to the last, and pierced with a thousand mortal wounds, on a heap of slain. The prince of Carisma, his son, shared the same fate; two hundred thousand of their troops were killed or made prisoners, the rest seeking safety in flight. The Chinese also lost a great number of men; but if the battle had been a bloody one, it was decisive. Timurtasch, after thanking Heaven for this signal success, despatched an officer to Pekin to give an account of the battle to the king of China; he then advanced into Zagatay, and seized upon the city of Carisma.

He made a proclamation in this capital that he would not touch the property, or interfere with the liberty of the Carismians; that Heaven having made him master of the throne of his enemy, he intended to take possession of it, and that henceforth, Zagatay, and the other countries which had been under the sway of the sultan, should acknowledge for their sovereign his son Khalaf.

The Carismians, tired of the harsh rule of their late master, and persuaded that that of Khalaf would be milder, submitted readily, and proclaimed as sultan this young prince, with whose merits they were acquainted. Whilst the new sultan took all necessary measures to strengthen his position, Timurtasch departed with a body of Chinese troops with all possible speed to his own dominions. The Nagäi-Tartars received him like faithful subjects, and were overjoyed to see their legitimate sovereign; but he was not content with regaining his throne; he declared war against the Circassians, in order to punish them for their treachery to prince Khalaf at Jund. Instead of trying to appease him by submission, these warlike people speedily collected an army to oppose him. He attacked them, and cut them nearly all to pieces; after which he caused himself to be proclaimed king of Circassia, and then returned to Zagatay, where he found Elmaze and Tourandocte, whom Altoun-Khan had sent to Carisma in great state.

Such was the end of the misfortunes of prince Khalaf, who gained by his virtues the love and esteem of the Carismians. He reigned long and peacefully over them, and never abated in his love for Tourandocte; he had a second son by her, who became afterwards the sultan of Carisma. As for the prince of China, Altoun-Khan brought him up, and chose him for his successor. Timurtasch and the princess Elmaze passed the rest of their days at Astrachan, and the khan of Berlas, after having received from them and their children all the tokens of gratitude which his generosity merited, retired to his tribe with the remainder of his troops.