‘I approached her in a transport of pleasure and joy, and, throwing myself at her feet, I remained with face to the ground, unable to say a word, so beside myself was I.
‘“Rise, Hassan,” she said, “I wish to know whether you love me: to persuade me of it, I want other proofs than this tender and passionate silence. Speak to me without restraint; is it possible that you think me more beautiful than all my companions —than the Princess Zelica even? Can I really believe that your eyes are more favourable to me than to her?”
‘“Do not doubt it,” I replied, “too amiable Calé-Cairi. When the princess and her women forced me to decide between you and them, my heart had already long declared itself for you. Since that happy night, I have not been able to turn from your image, and you would always have been present in my mind had you never shown kindness to me.”
‘“I am enchanted,” she replied, “at having inspired so much love in you, for, on my part, I admit I have not been able to prevent myself having a friendly feeling for you. Your youth, your goodly appearance, your quick and brilliant intelligence; and more than all that, perhaps, the preference you have shown for me over very pretty people, made you very pleasing in my eyes: the step I have taken sufficiently proves it; but, alas! my dear Hassan,” she added sighing, “I do not know whether I ought to be pleased at my conquest, or whether I ought not rather to look upon it as the cause of the future unhappiness of my life.”
‘“Ah, madam,” I said, “why, in the midst of the delight which your presence causes me, do you give way to such a gloomy presentiment?”
‘“It is not,” she replied, “a foolish fear which troubles our pleasure at this moment; my fears are but too well justified, and you do not know what causes my trouble: the Princess Zelica loves you, and freeing herself soon from the superb yoke under which she is bowed, she will announce your good fortune to you. When she announces to you that you are pleasing to her, how will you receive so glorious an avowal? Will the love you have for me withstand the honour of having as your mistress the first princess in the world?”
‘“Yes, charming Calé-Cairi,” I interrupted at that moment, “you will triumph over Zelica. Did it please Heaven you should have a still more redoubtable rival, you would see that nothing could shake the constancy of a heart which is devoted to you. If Shah Tahmasp should have no son to succeed him, and he should despoil himself of the kingdom of Persia to give it to his son-in-law, whom it depended on me to become, I would sacrifice for you so great a fortune.”
‘“Ah! unhappy Hassan,” cried the lady, “to what lengths does your love carry you? What dire assurance do you give me of your fidelity. You forget that I am the slave of the Princess of Persia. If you repay her kindness with ingratitude, you will draw down her anger upon us and we shall both perish. It were better I should yield you to such a powerful rival; it is the only way to save ourselves.”
‘“No, no,” I replied abruptly, “there is another which I in my despair would rather choose, and that is to banish myself from the court. My flight will protect you from the vengeance of Zelica, will restore your tranquillity to you; and whilst little by little you will forget the unfortunate Hassan, he will seek in the desert the end of his misfortunes.”
‘I was so overcome with what I was saying that the lady, sympathising with my grief, said, “Cease, Hassan, to abandon yourself to a superfluous distress; you are in error, and you seem to deserve to be undeceived. I am not a slave of the Princess Zelica—I am Zelica herself. The night that you came to my apartment I passed as Calé-Cairi and you took Calé-Cairi for me.”
‘At these words she called one of her women, who, issuing from behind some cypresses where she had remained hidden, came forward quickly, and I recognised the slave whom I had taken for the Princess of Persia.
‘“You see, Hassan,” said Zelica, “there is the real Calé-Cairi. I give her back her name and resume mine. I do not wish to disguise myself any longer, nor conceal from you the importance of the conquest you have made; realise, therefore, all the glory of your triumph. Although you have more love than ambition, I am sure you will not hear without experiencing fresh pleasure that it is a princess who loves you.”
‘I did not fail to tell Zelica that I could not realise the extent of my good fortune, nor how I had deserved that she should descend from the grandeur in which she had been brought up, and seek me out in my nothingness, in order to confer on me a fate worthy of the envoy of the greatest king in the world.
‘Surprised, enchanted, by the kindness of the princess, I began to indulge in expressions of gratitude; but she interrupted me. “Hassan,” she said, “do not be astonished any longer at what I have done for you. Pride has little empire over women who lead enclosed lives. We follow without resistance the movements of our hearts; you are lovable, you have pleased me; that is sufficient to merit my kindness.”
‘We spent all the night walking about and talking, and daylight would have doubtless surprised us in the gardens, if Calé-Cairi, who was with us, had not taken care to warn us that it was time to separate; but before I quitted Zelica, she said: “Farewell, Hassan, always think of me; we shall see each other again, and I promise to show you soon how dear you are to me.” I threw myself at her feet to thank her for so flattering a promise, after which Calé-Cairi made me make the same round that I had made the first time, and then led me beyond the precincts of the seraglio.
‘Loved by the august princess whom I idolised, and indulging my imagination with the charming promise she had made me, I gave myself up the next and following days to the pleasantest ideas imaginable. It might be truly said that there was a happy man upon earth, if the impatience to see Zelica again permitted me to be happy.
‘I was in the position which gives most pleasure to lovers, that is to say, the moment was approaching when my love was to be returned, when an unforeseen event suddenly dispelled my proud hopes. I heard that the Princess Zelica had fallen ill, and, two days after, the rumour of her death spread through the palace, and to confirm it I saw preparations begun for the funeral. My eyes, alas! were the sad witnesses of it, and it was in this order:
‘All the pages of the twelve chambers walked first, naked from head to waist; some scarred their arms to testify to their grief, others marked characters on them, and I, profiting by the occasion to mark the sincere regret, or rather the despair, I felt, tore my body, and covered myself with blood. Our officers followed us with a slow step and a grave air. They had behind them long rolls of Chinese paper, unrolled and attached to their turbans, on which were written various passages of the Alcoran, with some verses in praise of Zelica, which they sang sadly and respectfully. After them appeared the body in a coffin of sandal wood, raised on an ivory bier borne by twelve men of quality; and twenty princes related to Shah-Tahmasp held each the end of a silken cord attached to the coffin. All the women of the palace followed, uttering cries of lament, and when the body had arrived at the place of burial everyone commenced to cry, “There is no God but God!”
‘I did not see the rest of the ceremony, because the excess of my grief and the blood I had lost produced a prolonged swoon. One of our officers had me carried into our room, where great care was taken of me. My body was rubbed with an excellent balm, so that at the end of two days I felt my strength returning; but the remembrance of the princess almost drove me mad. “Oh! Zelica,” I said to myself every moment, is it thus that you keep the promise you made on leaving me? Is this the mark of affection you wished to give me?” I could not console myself, and sojourn in Shiraz becoming insupportable to me, I left the court of Persia secretly three days after the obsequies of the Princess Zelica.
‘Possessed with grief I walked all night without knowing where I was going or where I should go. The following morning, having stopped to rest, a young man passed near me who was extraordinarily attired. He came to me, saluted me, and presented to me a green palm which he held in his hand, and, having obliged me to accept it, he began to recite Persian verses to persuade me to give him alms. As I had nothing I could give him nothing. He thought I did not understand the Persian language; he recited some Arabic verses; but seeing that he did not succeed better one way than another, and that I did not do as he wished, he said to me: “Brother, I cannot believe that you are wanting in charity. I believe rather that you have not the means of exercising it.”