The prince, by direction of the old lady, immediately taking leave of Mano­chere and Peri-nuzzade, without regard to provision for his journey, bound the burthen of travel on the steed of depar­ture, and hastened towards the country of his beloved on the wings of expedi­tion. Passing quickly over the distance, he soon reached the city of Hussunabad, with the old woman and his companions, and took up his lodging in a garden, dis­guised as a pilgrim. The experienced matron, as before, having set out her flower shop, displayed with fresh brilliancy the wares of artifice and goods of con­trivance on the stall of cunning. With happy skill, and profound stratagem, having reared her ladder up to the battlement of the sky, she schemed to ensnare the moon into her hands. Having one day prepared a basket of the freshest and most blooming flowers, she repaired to the gardener’s wife, with whom she had tied the knot of sisterhood, whom she requested to accompany her to the presence of Mherbanou, in order that she might offer a peshcush of nosegays and wreaths, as an introductory present to the attendants on that shrub of the gar­den of beauty.

The gardener’s wife replied, “My dear sister, your request at present cannot be complied with; for, to gain admission to Mherbanou is impossible, because, on account of the loss of her favourite khulkaul, she has entwined grief as a wreath upon her neck. Some time back, having gone to the river, from the playfulness of youth, restless as the quicksilver, she plunged into the water to swim, and committed her flowing tresses, each lock of which is worth an hundred musk-bags of Kho­ten or Tartary, to the curling of the waves; when suddenly the khulkaul dropt from her ancle, and sunk.”

The old woman, regarding what she had heard as ominous of success, hastened rejoicing to the prince, and said, “Very shortly this moon will fall like a fish into thy net, and the khulkaul prove the means of thy attaining the jewel of thy desires. Policy now demands, that thou, with thy companions, quitting this garden, shouldst retire to some secluded spot, and remain in the strictest privacy. Let the venerable sage who is with thee, assuming the habit of a devout collinder, with bent stature and contemplative aspect, from which the minds of the public may be impressed with an opinion of his sanctity of heart, ask an audience of the Sultaun; and declaring himself sent by the sacred prophet Khizzer, thus say, Khizzer, (on whom be blessing) by divine com­mand sends thee his greetings, and informs thee, that from the extreme favour of the Almighty towards Mher­banou, her jewel has been strung on the matrimonial thread of a young man, whose mind is independent of all earthly things, and the knot of marriage has been properly entwined in the upper regions. This highly distinguished personage will speedily arrive at thy heaven-resembling court, and the proof of his identity will be his having the khulkaul of Mherbanou, which hav­ing dropt into the water, was swallowed by a fish, from whose belly it was taken out by the holy Khizzer, accord­ing to divine commission, and delivered in trust to the young man. At what­ever auspicious hour he may arrive, regard it as most fortunate, and neglecting not the least point of the rites of hospitality, shew thy gratitude for such heavenly bounty to the utmost extent of human power. Without hesitation or delay, unite this pearl of the casket of royalty, with that prin­cipal gem in the crown of virtue, for the losing of the khulkaul was ordained by the Almighty, who cannot err in his designs.

“After this (continued the old woman) let him present the king with a little of the water of life, that the charmer of his declaration may have the ornaments of truth. Unless by this stratagem, there is no possibility of attaining thy desire, because the father of Mherbanou, from haughtiness, wishes not that any one should presume to aspire to his alli­ance as a son-in-law, and Mherbanou herself is also coy, and difficult to please. Many powerful princes have longed for an union with her, and wandered round the circle of desire; but, as yet, the goblet of no admirer’s hope has overflowed with the wine of acceptance; the heart of each suitor has been marked like the tulip, with the scars of disappointment.”

The prince, approving the scheme of the old lady, and following her direc­tions, prevailed upon the friendly sage to repair to court; while he, with the rest of his companions, retired to the recess of concealment. The old man being admitted to an audience, delivered the message of the blessed Khizzer in a proper manner, and presented the water in a small phial sealed up, as an offering. The sultaun upon hearing such an astonishing message, having drawn up the feet of his heart beneath the skirt of amazement, remained in doubt as to its truth or false­hood; but as the loss of the khulkaul was circumstantially mentioned, he pre­sumed not to contradict the messenger.

The courtiers who sat upon the carpet of respect, were lost in the mazes of wonder, and became dumb with sur­prize. At length, the sultaun opening the mouth of the phial, by way of experiment, poured a few drops of its con­tents over a fish which had been out of the water two whole days. Instantly it began to be agitated, like the pulse of a despairing lover upon a message from his mistress, and soon skipping about, fell into a basin of water, near which the sultaun sat, and began to swim. At sight of this miracle, a loud exclamation burst from the beholders, and all with one voice cried out, “O Lord, we believe.”*

Without asking permission of the sul­taun, they seated the old man in the place highest respect, and bowed themselves before him. When he saw that the wine of his object was sufficiently fermented, and the impression of his wishes firmly stamped, he said, “As it is not allowable for dirveshes to remain in the com­pany of kings longer than absolutely necessary, I will now lessen the trouble of the seated on the carpet of royal obedience.” Though pressed repeatedly to stay, he would not be pre­vailed upon, but stood firm on the bridge of departure; upon which the sultaun and all the courtiers, having attended him to the palace gates, took leave.

When he came into the street, the common people (of whom scripture says, “They are like a flock of sheep”) regard­ing their prince’s accompanying him as a sure proof of the dirvesh’s high sanctity, so crowded round him, that the old man was nearly stifled by the throng. When he had escaped from this calamity, from weakness and fatigue rising and falling, like straw born by an eddy of wind, he at least reached the prince, to whom he related the particulars of his embassy.