The following day, when the bride of the sky arose from the mohaffa of the east, the artful lady conducted the bramin to the well, and related to her companions the wonderful adventure; on which they applauded, and allowed her superiority in the mysteries of the Tirrea Bede over themselves. The five ladies, who might be reckoned the five senses of cunning, now dismissed the bra­min, and said, “Thou hast now attained a full knowledge of the Tirrea Bede, its depths and difficulties; also, how well instructed thy chaste wife is in the science, and for what she has made thee a wanderer in the road of pilgrimage.”

The bramin, full of obligation for their kindness, hastened homewards in all anger and rage, twisting his whiskers in passion. In a short time he finished his journey; but on his arrival, not shewing the least attention to his wife, the guileful dame, from her penetrating judgment, guessed what was the cause of his looking so furiously. For the present, at the instigation of policy, she lengthened the string of her newly-taught bird, and submitted her neck to whatever he ordered, like an humble slave.

When the sun as a bridegroom retired to the chamber of the west, the wife’s gallant, having heard of her hus­band’s return, sent her the following message.

“The sincerity of regard, and truth of thy affection and attachment to me, can only be proved by this, viz. that to-night thou gladden the sorrowful cell of thy ardent lover by thy presence, and give light to the eyes of the expectant with the rays of thy beauty. Come soon, and be the life-consoler of my mournful heart.”

The wife replied, “Although my heart, like a miser eager for the trea­sures of Karoon,* is anxious for the felicity of thy soul-delighting enjoy­ment; yet, as the unfavourable volu­tions of the sky are never in the same position, to-night, the attainment of the happiness of the glorious presence is impossible. Vexed as I am at my involuntary fault, yet I trust in thy kindness to cover it with the mantle of forgiveness, and for this one night to submit to the disappoint­ment.”

The gallant would on no account accept of this excuse; but, fastening the hand of importunity on her skirts, said, “The case is, that without thee I value not life, and the bird of my soul is tortured on the fire of love; so that shouldst thou to-night disappoint me of thy company, I will plunge a dagger into my breast, tear out that heart over which I have no power, for it is thine, and at once obtain an eternal separation.”

The wife, as she dearly valued the repose of her lover, remediless, consented; and when her husband was asleep, leaving her confidant to supply her place by his side, after putting out the lamp, went to her paramour. The bramin, after some time waking, felt an inclina­tion to make it up with his wife; and getting the better of his resentment, having with kindness and softness spoke some soothing words, expected that she would return his fondness by suitable expressions. This, however, did not happen, as the confidant, fearing the disclosure of the stratagem, and the breaking of the stitches of her work, spoke not a word. The bramin again, out of endearment, said, “Thou hast always hitherto been lavish of smiles and inviting blandishments, and wert wont to behave with unreserve, and to fascinate me by thy soul-delighting speeches. How is it that to-night thou utterest not a word, and wilt not make harmonious the nightingale of thy melodious voice? Where are thy graces fled, and where thy wit?”

The woman, as it was not politic for her to speak, continued silent; upon which the bramin, whose heart had been already scored like the tulip, with anger at the unbecoming behaviour of his wife, and was tormented now afresh at her supposed sullenness, lost all patience. Rising up in great fury, he snatched a sharp knife, and without delay cleared the page of the face of his wife’s deputy of the character of her nose. The unfortunate confidant became thus distin­guished in reward of her fidelity, and, in return for such life-resignation and ser­vices to her principal, found exaltation and such high honour. True it is, that every good action has a recompense, and every evil deed a punishment. However, as she felt that she had fully performed her duty, and clearly evinced her genius and fortitude, she courageously held her peace, and bound her face up in her veil.

The bramin again went to sleep, and towards the close of night, his wife returning from her lover, asked her repre­sentative what had passed; who replied, “Alas! my nose has been sacrificed to thy friendship.” The artful woman having dismissed her hastily, and deferred apologies for the accident to another time, retired into a corner, and began thus, in a whining tone, to pray. “O thou, to whom all secrets are known, and to whom in the darkness of night the actions of every one are clear as in the light of day; if thou knowest that the skirt of my condition is clear of the filth of error, and that my foot hath never strayed into the path of sin, then favour me with com­passion, and deliver me from this dis­graceful injury. O thou beholder of all things, restore my nose.” After some pause, raising her head from the ground of lamentation, she rendered melodious the nightingale of her voice with the following strains.

The bramin now awoke; and when he heard the prayers and thanksgiving-effusions of his wife at the throne of the dispenser of events, instantly arose, and brought a lamp that he might behold her face, and see whether her nose proved the truth of her words, or not. He found it on examination unhurt, became overwhelmed in the mazes of astonish­ment, and ashamed of his evil action. He now bent his neck under the load of regret, began to beg pardon, falling down at the feet of his chaste wife, whose miraculous purity he adored with reverence; so that now regarding her as worthy of confidence, the model of vir­tue, and pattern of good actions, he in future freed her from the reins of his controul.*