‘No,’ he replied, ‘she was a wife of the great Prophet.’

I was very mortified to hear that I loved some one whose life was long over. ‘Oh! madman that I am!’ I cried, ‘why did I not ask the sultan, my father, whose portrait it was I found in his treasury? He would have told me what I have just heard. What trouble and anxiety I should have spared myself! I should have nipped my love in the bud. It would perhaps not have gained such control over me. I should not have left Cairo; Saed would be still living. Must his death be then the sole outcome of my chimerical senti­ments? All that consoles me, beautiful princess,’ I continued, turning to Malika, ‘is having been able to be useful to you: thanks to my ring, I am in the position to give you back to the king your father.’ At the same time I addressed the genie: ‘Since I am happy enough,’ I said, ‘to be the pos­sessor of the seal of Solomon, since I have the right to command genii, obey me. I order you to trans­port me immediately with the princess Malika, to the kingdom of Serendib, to the gates of the capital.’

‘I am going to obey you, my lord,’ replied the genie, ‘however unhappy the loss of the princess may make me.’

‘It is very fortunate for you,’ I replied, ‘that I content myself with only exacting from you that you should bear us both to the island of Serendib; you deserve, for having carried off Malika, that I should punish you to the full extent of the power which the seal of the Prophet gives me over rebel genii.’

The genie replied nothing; he prepared immediately to do what I had ordered him: he took us in his arms, the princess and myself, and bore us to the gates of Serendib. ‘Is that all,’ then said the genie to me, ‘that you wish me to do? Have you nothing further to command me?’ I replied in the negative, and he immediately disappeared.

We went to lodge at the first caravanserai on entering the town, and there we deliberated whether we would write to the court or whether I should go myself to inform the king of the arrival of the princess. We decided on the latter course. I betook myself to the palace, which seemed to me a singular structure. It was built on a thousand columns of marble, and the ascent to it was by a staircase of three hundred steps of beautiful stone. I passed a guard in the first hall; an officer approached me, asked me whether I had any busi­ness at the court, or whether curiosity alone brought me thither. I replied that I wished to speak to the king on an important matter. The officer led me to the grand vizir, who presented me to the king, his master.

‘Young man,’ said the monarch to me, ‘of what country are you, and what do you come to Serendib for?’

‘Sire,’ I replied, ‘Egypt was my birth-place. I have been long absent from my father, and I have experienced all sorts of misfortunes.’ Hardly had I said these words than the king, who was a kind old man, began to weep.

‘Alas!’ he said to me, ‘I am no happier than you. I have lost my only daughter, in a manner which increases my grief at not seeing her again.’

‘My lord,’ I replied, ‘I have come to this palace only to give you news of this princess.’

‘Ah! what news,’ he cried, ‘can you give me of her? You have come to announce her death to me? You have doubtless been the witness of her sad end?’

‘No, no,’ I replied, ‘she still lives, and you will see her to-day.’

‘Ah! where have you found her?’ said the king; ‘where was she hidden?’

Then I related all my adventures to him. I dilated particularly on that of the castle and the genie, which he listened to with all the more atten­tion that he was himself interested in it. As soon as I had finished he embraced me.

‘Prince,’ he said to me, for I had discovered my birth to him in relating my history, ‘what do I not owe to you? I love my daughter dearly: I did not hope to see her again. You have been the cause of my finding her. How can I acquit myself towards you? Let us go together,’ he con­tinued; ‘let us go to the caravanserai where you have left her, I am burning with impatience to embrace my dear Malika.’

Saying these words, he gave the order to his vizir to have a litter prepared, which was promptly executed.

The king then made me enter the litter with him, and followed by several officers on horseback we went to the caravanserai where Malika awaited me impatiently. No words can express the mutual joy which the King of Serendib and the princess his daughter felt on seeing each other again. After their first transport the monarch wished Malika herself to give a detailed account of her being carried off and her rescue, which she did in a way that gave him much satisfaction. He thought how happily she had preserved her life from the power of the genie, and declared that he could not carry his gratitude to her liberator too far. He seemed charmed with my bearing and my courage.

We all returned to the palace, where the king gave me a magnificent apartment. He ordered public prayers to return thanks to Heaven for the return of the princess. The inhabitants celebrated it with endless rejoicing. There was a magnificent feast at the court; all the nobility of the island were invited.

The King of Serendib showed me every atten­tion; he took me hunting with him: I joined in all his pleasure parties. He evinced such friend­ship for me that he said to me one day: ‘O my son, it is time to reveal to you a plan I have formed. You have brought me back my daughter. You have consoled an afflicted father. I wish to acquit myself towards you. Be my son-in-law and the inheritor of my crown.’

I thanked the king for his kindness, and begged him not to take it ill if I refused the honour he wished to do me. I told him the reasons which had compelled me to leave Cairo. I confessed to him that I could not detach myself from the image of Bedy-Aljemal, nor cease to nourish a futile passion. ‘Would you,’ I added, ‘give your daughter to a man whose heart she cannot possess? Ah! my lord, the Princess Malika deserves a happier fate.’

‘How can I,’ replied the king, ‘recognise the service you have done me?’

‘Sire,’ I replied, ‘I am sufficiently rewarded for it. The reception your majesty has given me—the pleasure alone of having delivered the Princess of Serendib from the hands of the genie who had carried her off, is a sufficient reward for me. All that I ask of your gratitude is a vessel to take me to Bassora.’

The king did as I wished; he ordered a vessel to be filled with provisions and to be held ready to depart when I thought convenient. He kept me, however, some time at his court, and he told me every day that he was sorry that I did not wish to remain at Serendib. Finally the day of my departure arrived. I took leave of the king and the princess, who overwhelmed me with civilities, and I embarked.

We experienced several storms on the way, severe enough to have caused our shipwreck, but the virtue of my ring prevented our being sub­merged. So, after a long voyage, I arrived happily at Bassora, whence I went to grand Cairo with a caravan of Egyptian merchants.

I found many changes had taken place at the court: my father lived no more, and my brother was on the throne. The new sultan received me at first as a man sensible to the bonds which united us; he assured me he was glad to see me again; he told me that a few days after my departure, my father, being in his treasury, had opened by chance the little coffer which contained the seal of Solomon and the portrait of Bedy-Aljemal; that not seeing them he had suspected me of having taken them. I confessed everything to my brother, and placed the ring in his hands.

He seemed touched at my misfortune, and marvelled at the strangeness of my adventures; he pitied me, and I felt that his sympathy relieved my trouble. All the sensibility that he evinced was, however, only perfidy. The very day of my arrival he had me enclosed in a tower, where he sent at night an officer who had orders to take my life; but this officer had pity on me, and said: ‘Prince, the sultan, your brother, has ordered me to assassinate you; he fears lest a desire to reign may possess you and incite you to make trouble in the state; he thinks your death necessary to his safety. Happily for you he has addressed himself to me, he imagines that I shall execute his barbarous order and he expects to see me return covered with your blood. Ah! rather may my hand shed my own! Escape, prince; the door of your prison is open to you, profit by the darkness of the night; leave Cairo, fly, and do not stop till you are in safety.’

After having thanked this generous officer as he deserved, I took flight, and abandoning myself to Providence, I hastened to leave my brother’s states. I had the good fortune to arrive in yours, my lord, and to find a safe refuge at your court.

The Prince Seyf el Mulouk having finished the story of his adventures, said to the King of Damas­cus: ‘That, my lord, is what your majesty has wished to know; judge now whether I am perfectly happy. I am more than ever absorbed in Bedy-Aljemal. It is in vain that I constantly represent to myself that it is extravagant on my part to be enamoured of a lady who is no longer alive; it is impossible to rid myself of her image, it reigns always in my heart.’