‘Farewell, my good mother,’ he said to the widow. ‘I am sorry you gave yourself so much trouble for me yesterday; you might have spared yourself, for I assured you that I should not be of a different mind to-day.’

At these words he quitted the old woman, who, overcome by the keenest grief, covered her face with her veil, and remained with her head on her knees, inexpressibly overwhelmed.

The young Prince of the Nogaïs, perfumed with essences and more beautiful than the moon, betook himself to the palace. He saw at the gate five elephants joined together, and on both sides was a hedge of two thousand soldiers with helmets on their heads, armed with bucklers and covered with iron plates. One of the commanding officers, judging by Calaf’s appearance that he was a stranger, stopped him and asked him his business at the palace.

‘I am a foreign prince,’ replied the son of Timurtasch, ‘and I come to present myself to the king to pray him to accord me permission to answer the questions of the princess his daughter.’

The officer at these words, looking at him with astonishment, said to him: ‘Prince, do you know that you come here to seek death? You would have done better to remain in your own country than to form the design which brings you here. Retrace your steps and do not flatter your­self with the false hope that you will obtain the barbarous Tourandot. Were you more learned than a mandarin of science you would never dis­cover the meaning of her ambiguous words.’

‘I thank you for your advice,’ replied Calaf; ‘but I have not come so far to recoil.’

‘Go then to death,’ replied the officer, with a chagrined air, since it is impossible to prevent you.’ At the same time he let him enter the palace, and then turning towards several other officers who had heard their conversation: ‘How beautiful and well made that prince is,’ he said to them. ‘It is a pity he should die so soon.’

Calaf, however, traversed several halls, and at last found himself in the one in which the king was accustomed to give audience to his people. There was in it a throne of steel, made in the form of a dragon about six feet high. Four lofty columns of the same material upheld a vast daïs of yellow satin ornamented with precious stones. Altoun-Khan, dressed in a caftan of gold brocade on a red ground, was seated on the throne with an air of gravity which was marvellously enhanced by a tuft of very long black hair divided into three curls which he had in the middle of his beard.

This monarch after having listened to some of his subjects, cast his eyes by chance on Prince Calaf who was in the crowd. As he seemed to him a stranger, and as he saw by his noble appearance as well as by his magnificent clothes that he was no ordinary person, he called one of his mandarins, and pointing out Calaf, ordered him in a low voice to inform himself as to his station and the object which had brought him to his court.

The mandarin approached the son of Timur­tasch and told him that the king wished to know who he was, and whether he had anything to ask him.

‘You may tell the king your master,’ replied the young prince, ‘that I am the only son of a sovereign, and that I have come to endeavour to merit the honour of being his son-in-law.’

Altoun-Khan no sooner heard the answer of the Prince of the Nogaïs than he changed colour: his august countenance became pale as death; he ceased giving audience; he dismissed everybody; then he descended his throne and approached Calaf.

‘Bold young man,’ he said to him, ‘do you know the rigour of my edict, and the unhappy fate of all those who up till now have persisted in wishing to obtain the princess my daughter?’

‘Yes, my lord,’ replied the son of Timurtasch, ‘I know all the danger I run: my eyes have even been the witness of the final and just punishment which your majesty has made the Prince of Samar­cand suffer; but the deplorable end of these audacious men who have vainly flattered them­selves with the sweet hope of possessing the Princess Tourandot, only stimulates the desire that I have to deserve her.’

‘What madness!’ replied the king; ‘hardly has one prince lost his life than another offers himself for the same fate. It would seem they take pleasure in immolating themselves. What blindness! Con­sider, prince, and be less prodigal with your blood. You inspire more pity in me than all those who have already come here to seek death, and I feel an inclination for you growing in me, and I wish to do all in my power to prevent your perishing. Return to your father’s states and do not cause him the unhappiness of hearing the report that he will not see his only son again.’

‘My lord,’ replied Calaf, ‘it is very pleasant to me to hear from the lips of your majesty himself that I have the good fortune to please you. It presages well for me. Perhaps, touched by the misfortunes which the beauty of the princess causes, Heaven wishes to make use of me to put a stop to them, and at the same time assure the repose of your life which is troubled by the neces­sity of authorising such cruel actions. Do you indeed know that I shall reply badly to the questions which will be put to me? What certainty have you that I shall perish? If others have not been able to unravel the meaning of the obscure words of Tourandot, does it follow that I shall not be able to do so? No, my lord, their example cannot make me renounce the dazzling honour of having you for a father-in-law.’

‘Ah! unfortunate prince,’ replied the king, sorrowfully, ‘you wish to end your life; the lovers who presented themselves before you to reply to my daughter’s fatal questions employed the same language. They all hoped they would discover her meaning, and they could not succeed. Once more, my son,’ he continued, ‘let yourself be per­suaded. I like you, and wish to save you: do not make my good intention futile by your obstinacy. Place no trust in the intelligence you feel yourself possessed of. You mistake if you think you can answer immediately what the princess will put to you. However, you will not have many minutes to reply; it is the rule. If you do not immediately give an accurate answer, and one approved by all the doctors who will be the judges, you will be immediately declared worthy of death, and will be led to punishment the following night. So, prince, retire. Pass the rest of the day in thinking what you have to do: consult wise people: reflect and come to-morrow and tell me what you have resolved upon.’

Thus saying, he left Calaf, who went from the palace very mortified at what the king had said to him, and returned to his hostess without paying the least attention to the terrible danger to which he wished to expose himself. As soon as he returned to the old woman and had related to her all that had passed at the palace, she began again to harangue him and do all she could to deter him from the undertaking; but she gained nothing by her fresh efforts, except that she irritated her young guest and made him still more determined in his resolution. He returned the following day to the palace and had himself announced to the king, who received him in his cabinet, not wishing anyone to be present at their conversation.

‘Well, prince,’ said Altoun-Khan, ‘am I to rejoice or be afflicted at the sight of you? What are your feelings?’

‘My lord,’ replied Calaf, ‘I am still in the same disposition. When I had the honour yesterday of presenting myself before your majesty, I had already reflected. I am determined to suffer the same punishment as my rivals, if Heaven has not otherwise ordained.’

At this speech, the king smote his breast, tore his necklace and some hairs from his beard.

‘How unhappy I am,’ he cried, ‘to have con­ceived so much friendship for this man! The death of the others has not caused me such pain as this. Ah! my son,’ he continued, embracing the young prince with an emotion which affected him much, ‘yield to my grief, if my arguments are not enough to shake you. I feel that the stroke which takes your life will inflict a mortal blow on me. Renounce, I beg, the pos­session of my cruel daughter; you will find in the world other princesses enough whom you can possess. Why persist in the pursuit of an inhuman woman whom you cannot obtain? Live, if you wish, at my court. You shall hold the first place in it after me, you shall have beautiful slaves, pleasure shall pursue you everywhere, in a word, I shall look upon you as my own son. Desist, then, from the pursuit of Tourandot, that I may at least have the satisfaction of snatching one victim from this sanguinary princess.’

The son of Timurtasch was very sensible of the friendship which the King of China displayed towards him, but he replied, ‘My lord, let me, I beg, expose myself to the danger from which you wish to turn me. The greater it is the more it tempts me. I will even admit to you that the cruelty of the princess secretly flatters my love. It is a delightful pleasure to me to think that I am perhaps the happy mortal who is to triumph over this proud woman. In God’s name,’ he continued, ‘let your majesty cease to combat a design which my glory, my repose, and my life require me to execute, for I cannot live if I do not obtain Tourandot.’