As soon as the judge saw Couloufe: ‘Well, friend!’ he said, ‘what disposition are you in to-day? Are you not more prudent than yesterday? Must you have fresh blows to make you repudiate your wife? I do not think so; you have doubtless made salutary reflections and thought that a nobody, like you, ought not to persist in wishing to preserve a wife who cannot be his.’

‘My lord,’ said Couloufe, ‘may the life of such a judge as yourself endure several centuries, but I am not a nobody. My birth is not at all obscure, as you imagine, and since I must at last make myself known, know that my name is Rukneddin, and that I am the only son of a merchant of Khokand, named Massaoud. My father is richer than Mouzaffer, and did he know the state that I am in, he would soon send me so many camels laden with gold that all the women of Samarcand would envy the happiness of her whom I have married. What! because robbers have despoiled me near this town, and I retired to a mosque to subsist, you conclude from that that I am a nobody! I will show you that you are mistaken. I am going to write to my father this moment, and he will no sooner have received news of me, than he will make me the possessor of infinite riches in this town.’

As soon as Couloufe had said these words, the cadi said to him: ‘You are the only son of a rich merchant of Khokand, and it is only owing to the accident you have just related that you are in want?’

‘Assuredly,’ replied the son of Abdallah. ‘You see, my lord, that I am not a wretch brought up in the gutter.’

‘Why, young man,’ replied the judge, ‘did you not declare that yesterday? I should not have had you ill-treated. My lord,’ he added, turning to Mouzaffer, ‘what the stranger says changes the aspect of affairs. Being the only son of a great merchant, the laws do not permit of forcing him to repudiate his wife.’

‘Good my lord cadi,’ interrupted Taher, ‘do you put faith in this impostor? He calls himself the son of Massaoud, to avoid the blows and gain time.’

‘I do not know what to do,’ said the judge. ‘Whether he lies, or whether he tells the truth, I am forbidden to take further steps. All that I can do most favourable for you is to enjoin the stranger to prove what he advances.’

‘We do not ask better,’ then said Mouzaffer. ‘I wish even that an envoy be sent at my expense to Khokand; I know Massaoud from having seen him here sometimes; I know that he is a very rich merchant; if the stranger is really his son we will give Dilara up to him.’

‘Yes,’ said Taher, ‘but whilst waiting the return of the courier, it would be well, it seems to me, to make the couple live apart.’

‘That is against the law,’ replied the cadi. ‘The wife ought to live with her husband; she cannot be taken from him without doing violence which the law condemns. Send therefore a man to Khokand, which is only seven days from here. In a fortnight we shall know what to think of the stranger. If he is the son of Massaoud, he shall not repudiate the lady; but I swear by the black stone of the sacred temple of Mecca and by the holy thicket of Medina, in which is the tomb of the Prophet, that if he deceives us a cruel and ignominious torture shall be the punish­ment of the impostor and shall terminate his life.’

This affair decided thus by the cadi, the parties retired. Mouzaffer and his son sent one of their servants to Khokand with the order to get the information they required, and to make all possible haste.

As for Couloufe, he went promptly to give an account to the lady of all that had passed at the judge’s. She was greatly rejoiced.

‘Ah! dear husband,’ she said, ‘all goes well. We need apprehend nothing further. Before the courier has returned from Khokand, even before he has arrived there, we will both take flight. We will leave Samarcand one night, we will betake ourselves to Bokhara as soon as pos­sible, and we will live there on my dowry in peace which our enemies will not be able to disturb.’

Couloufe approved of Dilara’s idea. They resolved to take flight; but they were too closely observed in the house where they lived to be able to carry out their plan with impunity. They thought they had better go and lodge elsewhere, that they must tell this to Mouzaffer, and that if he offered any opposition they would ask permis­sion of the cadi. That being decided between them, the son of Abdallah went immediately to find Mouzaffer and his son. He told them he wished that very day to change his abode; that since the laws made him the master of his wife he proposed to do with her and take her where he wished. Mouzaffer and his son did not fail to oppose this plan; Taher especially protested that he would not allow Dilara to leave his house. Couloufe on his side did not give way, so that it was necessary to have recourse to the cadi.

This judge, informed as to what brought them before him, asked Couloufe why he wished to leave the house of Mouzaffer.

‘My lord,’ replied the son of Abdallah, ‘I have often heard Massaoud, my father, say that when one lives with one’s enemies, one ought to sepa­rate from them as soon as possible; so I wish to go and live elsewhere whilst waiting for news from Khokand. My wife wishes it as much as I do.’

‘Ah! the liar!’ cried Taher at this juncture; ‘Dilara laments, Dilara is in tears because this wretch is her husband, and he has the impudence to say she is wearied in my house!’

Yes, I said it,’ replied Couloufe, ‘and I say it again; my wife loves me and desires nothing more ardently than to get away from you. If that is not true, if she has other sentiments, I am ready to repudiate her at once.’

‘Lord cadi,’ said Taher, ‘you hear him, I take him at his word; order Dilara to come here and let her explain herself.’

‘I consent,’ said the judge. ‘Go,’ he added, turning towards Danischemend, who was present; ‘go to Mouzaffer and tell Dilara that I wish to speak to her; bring her here immediately. We shall soon see in what dispo­sition she is, and I declare that if she gives the stranger the lie, she shall be repudiated instantly.’

Danischemend discharged his errand with much speed; he brought the lady to the judge, who no sooner saw her appear than he asked her if she wished to leave Mouzaffer, and if she had more inclination for her husband than for Taher. Taher did not doubt but that she would pronounce in his favour; and yielding to a joyful impulse which he could not control, he spoke before she could reply.

‘Speak, madam,’ he said; ‘you have only to declare your real sentiments and you shall be delivered this very day from what you hate.’

‘Since this assurance is given me,’ said the daughter of Boyruc, ‘I shall disguise nothing from you. My second husband, the son of Massaoud, has all my affection, and I very humbly beg the lord cadi to give us permission to lodge elsewhere than at Mouzaffer’s.’

‘Oh, oh!’ then said the judge, addressing the first husband, ‘you see the stranger has not advanced anything with temerity; he was very sure of the fact.’

‘Ah! the traitress!’ cried Taher, quite stunned by the sincere avowal of the lady; ‘how can she have let herself be won over since yesterday?’

‘I am sorry, for your sake,’ replied the cadi, ‘for I cannot help allowing them to go and lodge where they please.’

‘So you will let this stranger triumph,’ said Taher to him, ‘and without knowing whether he is really the son of Massaoud, you will allow him the tranquil possession of Dilara?’

‘No,’ replied the judge; ‘if what he says is not the case, if he is a wretch, I shall have him put to death for having deceived us.’

‘And you imagine,’ replied the son of Mouzaffer, ‘that if he has cause to fear the punishment with which you threaten him, he will be fool enough to wait in this town till we have received news from Khokand? What an error! Be rather persuaded that he has the intention to leave Samarcand, and that he will perhaps induce the lady to follow him, and they doubtless wish to change their residence in order to easily carry out their reso­lution.’

‘That is not impossible,’ replied the cadi, ‘but I shall see to that. In whatever part of the town they lodge, I undertake to have them watched by a numerous and vigilant guard who will report to me.’

Couloufe and Dilara were therefore at liberty to leave Mouzaffer’s house. They left it that very day to go and stay in a caravanserai. They bought some slaves to wait on them. They did not lack money, for the lady had a considerable portion, with a somewhat large quantity of precious stones. They only thought at first of enjoying themselves. The pleasure of being able to abandon themselves unrestrainedly to their love prevented them at first from indulging in the sad reflections which the position they were in should inspire in them. They lived as if the cadi had not placed a guard over them and they could easily escape, or as if Couloufe were really the son of Massaoud, and they expected agreeable news from Khokand.