and did it herself. The three calenders and the caliph, with his companions, were extremely surprised at this execution, and could not comprehend why Zobeide, after having so furiously whipped those two bitches, that, by the Mussulman religion, are reckoned unclean animals, should cry with them, wipe off their tears, and kiss them. They muttered among themselves; and the caliph, being more impatient than the rest, longed exceedingly to be informed of the cause of so strange an action, and could not forbear making signs to the vizier to ask the question; the vizier turned his head another way; but, being pressed by repeated signs, he answered by others that it was not yet time for the caliph to satisfy his curiosity.
Zobeide sat still some time in the middle of the room, where she had whipped the two bitches, to recover from the fatigue; and fair Safie called to her, Dear sister, will you be pleased now to return to your place, that I may also act my part? Yes, sister, replies Zobeide, and then went and sat down upon the sofa, having the caliph, Giafar, and Mesrour, on her right hand, and the three calenders, with the porter, on her left.
After Zobeide sat down, the whole company was silent for a while; at last Safie, sitting on a chair in the middle of the room, spoke to her sister Amine; Dear sister, I conjure you to rise up; you know well enough what I would say, Amine rose up, and went into another closet near to that where the bitches were, and brought out a case covered with yellow satin, richly embroidered with gold and green silk; she came near Safie, and opened the case, from whence she took a lute, and presented her, and, after some time spent in tuning it, Safie began to play, and, accompanying it with her voice, she sung a song about the torments that absence creates to lovers, with so much sweetness as to charm the caliph and all the company. Having sung with a great deal of passion and action, she said to lovely Amine, Pray take it, sister, for I can do no more; my voice fails me; oblige the company with a tune and song in my room. Very willingly, replied Amine, who, taking the lute from her sister Safie, sat down in her place.
Amine, after a small trial to see whether the instrument was in tune, played and sung almost as long upon the same subject, but with so much vehemency, and was so much affected, or rather transported, by the words of the song, that her strength failed her as she made an end of it.
Zobeide, willing to testify her satisfaction, said, Sister, you have done wonders, and we may easily see that you have a feeling of the grief you have expressed so much to the life. Amine was prevented from answering this civility, her heart being so sensibly touched at the same moment, that she was obliged, for air, to uncover her neck and breast, which did not appear so fair as might have been expected from such a lady; but, on the contrary, black and full of scars, which frightened all the spectators. This, however, gave her no ease, but she fell into a fit.
While Zobeide and Safie ran to help their sister, one of the calenders could not forbear to say, We had better have slept in the streets than have come hither, had we thought to have seen such spectacles. The caliph, who heard this, came up to him and the other calenders, and asked them what might be the meaning of all this? They answered, Sir, we know no more than you do. What, says the caliph, are you not of the family? nor can you resolve us concerning the two black bitches and the lady that fainted away, and has been so basely abused? Sir, said the calenders, this is the first time that ever we were in the house, having come in but a few minutes before you.
This increased the caliph's astonishment. It may be, says he, this other man that is with you may know something of it. One of the calenders made a sign for the porter to come near, and asked him whether he knew why those two black bitches had been whipped, and why Amine's bosom was so scarred? Sir, said the porter, I can swear by Heaven, that if you know nothing of all this, I know as little as you do. It is true I live in this city, but I never was in the house till now, and if you are suprised to see me here, I am as much to find myself in your company; and that which increases my wonder is, that I have not seen one man with these ladies.
The caliph and his company, as well as the calenders, supposed the porter had been one of the family, and hoped he could inform them of what they desired to know; but finding he could not, and resolving to satisfy his curiosity, cost what it would, he says to the rest, Look ye, we are here seven men, and have but three women to deal with; let us try if we can oblige them to satisfy us, and, if they refuse by fair means, we are in a condition to force them to it.
The grand vizier Giafar was against this method, and showed the caliph what might be the consequence of it; but, without discovering the prince to the calenders, he addressed him, as if he had been, a merchant, thus: Sir, consider, I pray you, that our reputation lies at stake; you know very well upon what conditions these ladies were ready to receive us, and we also agreed to them. What will they say of us if we break them? We shall be still more to blame if any mischief befal us; for it is not likely that they would demand such a promise of us, if they did not know themselves in a condition to make us repent the breaking of it.
Here the vizier took the caliph aside, and whispered to him thus: Sir, the night will soon be at an end, and if your majesty will only be pleased to have so much patience, I will take these ladies to-morrow morning, and bring them before your throne, where you may be informed of all you desire to know. Though this advice was very judicious, the caliph rejected it, bid the vizier hold his tongue, and said he would not stay till then, but would have satisfaction in the matter presently.
The next business was to know who should carry the message. The caliph endeavoured to prevail with the calenders to speak first; but they excused themselves, and at last they agreed that the porter should be the man. And as they were consulting how to word this fatal question, Zobeide returned from her sister Amine, who was recovered of her fit, drew near them, and having overheard them speaking pretty loud, and with some passion, says, Gentlemen, what is the subject of your discourse? what are you disputing about?
The porter answered immediately, Madam, these gentlemen pray you to let them understand wherefore you wept over your two bitches, after you whipped them so severely, and how the bosom of the lady, who lately fainted away, comes to be so full of scars? This is what I am ordered to ask in their name.
At these words, Zobeide looked with a stern countenance, and, turning towards the caliph and the rest of the company, Is it true, gentlemen, says she, that you have given him orders to ask me this question? All of them, except Giafar, who spoke not a word, answered, Yes. On which she told them, in a tone which sufficiently expressed her resentment, Before we granted you the favour of being received into our house, and to prevent all occasion of trouble from you, because we are alone, we did it upon condition that you should not speak of any thing that did not concern you, lest you might come to hear that which would not please you; and yet, after having received and entertained you as well as possibly we could, you make no scruple to break your promise. It is true that our easy temper has occasioned this, but that shall not excuse you, for your proceedings are very unhandsome. As she spoke these words, she gave three hard knocks with her foot, and, clapping her hands as often together, cried, Come quick! Upon this a door flew open, and seven strong sturdy black slaves, with scimitars in their hands, rushed in; every one seized a man, threw him on the ground, and dragged him into the middle of the room in order to cut off his head.
We may easily conceive what a fright the caliph was in; he then repented, but too late, that he had not taken his vizier's advice. In the mean time this unhappy prince, Giafar, Mesrour, the porter, and the calenders, were upon the point of losing their lives by their indiscreet curiosity. But, before they would strike the fatal blow, one of the slaves says to Zobeide and her sisters, High, mighty, and adorable mistresses, do you command us to cut their throats? Stay, says Zobeide, I must examine them first. The frightened porter interrupted her thus: In the name of Heaven, do not make me die for another man's crime. I am innocent, they are to blame. Alas! says he, crying, how pleasantly did we pass our time! those blind calenders are the cause of this misfortune; there is no town in the world but goes to ruin, wherever these inauspicious fellows come. Madam, I beg you not to destroy the innocent with the guilty, and consider that it is more glorious to pardon such a wretch as I, who have no way to help myself, than to sacrifice me to your resentment.
Zobeide, notwithstanding her anger, could not but laugh within herself at the porters lamentation; but, without answering him, she spoke a second time to the rest: Answer me, says she, and tell me who you are, otherwise you shall not live one moment longer. I cannot believe you to be honest men, nor persons