This princess appeared on a golden throne in the midst of all her slaves, who were standing divided into two files. Some had tambourines, others mellow flutes, and others harps. They did not make their instruments heard then. They all listened attentively to a girl more beautiful than the others, who sang a song whose burden was ‘Love not once, but love through life;’ and while she sang, the maiden whom Aboulcasem had given to the caliph played her lute of aloe wood, ivory, sandal wood, and ebony.

As soon as Zobeide perceived the emperor and the son of Abdelaziz, she descended from her throne to receive them.

‘Madam,’ said Haroun to her, ‘let me present to you my host at Bassora.’

The young man immediately prostrated him­self with his face to the earth before the princess. But whilst he was in this position a noise was suddenly heard among the slaves. She who had just sung, having cast her eyes on Aboulcasem, gave a great cry, and fainted.

The emperor and Zobeide turned immediately towards the slave, and the son of Abdelaziz, having risen also, looked at her; but he had no sooner seen her than he swooned. His eyes grew dark, a mortal pallor overspread his face. They thought he was going to die. The caliph, prompt to succour him, took him in his arms and restored him by degrees from his swoon.

When Aboulcasem had recovered his senses, he said to the prince: ‘Commander of the Faith­ful, you know the adventure which I had in Cairo. This slave whom you see is the person who was thrown with me into the Nile; it is Dardané.’

‘Is it possible?’ cried the emperor. ‘Let Heaven be for ever praised for such a marvellous event!’

During this time the slave, with the help of her companions, also recovered her senses. She wished to prostrate herself at the feet of the caliph, who prevented her, and asked her by what miracle she was still alive after being thrown into the Nile.

‘Commander of the Faithful,’ she said, ‘I fell into the nets of a fisher, who by chance drew them in at that moment. He was rather surprised at having made such a haul, and as he perceived that I still breathed, he carried me into his house, where, restored to life through his care, I related my sad story to him. He appeared alarmed; he was afraid lest the Sultan of Egypt should learn that he had saved me. So, fearing to lose his life for having saved mine, he hastened to sell me to a slave-merchant who was leaving for Bagdad. This merchant brought me to this town and presented me shortly afterwards to the Princess Zobeide, who bought me.’

Whilst the slave was speaking, the caliph con­sidered her attentively, and finding her charmingly beautiful, ‘Aboulcasem,’ he cried, as soon as she had finished speaking, ‘I am no longer surprised that you should have always preserved the memory of so beautiful a person. I thank Heaven for having conducted her here to enable me to acquit myself towards you. Dardané is no longer a slave, she is free. I think, madam,’ he added, turning to Zobeide, ‘you will not oppose her liberty.’

‘No, my lord,’ replied the princess, ‘I agree to it with joy, and I hope these two lovers will taste the sweetness of a long and perfect union, after the misfortunes which have separated them.’

‘This is not all,’ replied Haroun. ‘I wish their marriage to be celebrated in my palace, and that there should be public rejoicings for three days in Bagdad. I cannot treat my host of Bassora with too much honour.’

‘Ah, my lord!’ said Aboulcasem, throwing him­self at the emperor’s feet, ‘if you are above men in rank you are still more so in generosity. Permit me to discover my treasure to you and abandon the possession of it to you from this moment.’

‘No, no,’ replied the caliph; ‘remain in tranquil enjoyment of your treasure; I even renounce the right that I have over it; and may you live long enough to exhaust it.’

Zobeide begged the son of Abdelaziz and Dardané to relate their adventures to her, and she had them written in letters of gold. After that, the emperor ordered the preparations for their marriage, which was celebrated with much pomp. The public rejoicings which followed it were still continuing when the vizir Giafar returned with the troops, bringing Aboulfatah well bound. As for the King of Bassora, he had died of grief at not having been able to find Aboulcasem.

As soon as Giafar had given an account of his errand to his master, a scaffold was raised before the palace and the wicked Aboulfatah was made to mount it.

All the people, informed of the cruelty of this vizir, instead of being touched by his misfortune expressed impatience to see his execution. Already the executioner had the sabre in his hand, ready to cut off the head of the culprit, when the son of Abdelaziz, prostrating himself before the caliph, said: ‘Commander of the Faithful, grant my prayers for the life of Aboulfatah. Let him live! let him be the witness of my happiness! let him see all the kindness you have for me, will he not be punished enough?’

‘O, too generous Aboulcasem,’ cried the emperor, ‘how well you deserve to reign! How fortunate the people of Bassora will be to have you for their king.’

‘My lord,’ said the young man, ‘I have another favour to ask of you. Give to Prince Aly the throne which you destine for me. Let him reign with the lady who has had the generosity to deliver me from her father’s fury. These two lovers are worthy of this honour. As for me, cherished and protected by the Commander of the Faithful, I have no need of a crown. I am above kings.’

The caliph, to reward the Prince Aly for the service which he had rendered to the son of Abdelaziz, sent him patents and made him King of Bassora. But finding Aboulfatah too culpable to accord him liberty with his life, he ordered him to be shut up in a dark tower for the rest of his days. When the people of Bagdad knew that it was the injured man himself who had asked for the life of his enemy, great praise was given to the young Aboulcasem, who left shortly afterwards for Bassora with his dear Dardané, both escorted by troops of the caliph’s guard, and followed by a great number of officers.

Sutlumemé here finished the story of the strange adventures of Aboulcasem of Bassora. All the women of the Princess of Cashmere applauded her greatly. Some praised the magnifi­cence and generosity of the young man of Bassora, the others maintained that the Caliph Haroun-al-Raschid was not less generous than he. Others, devoted only to constancy, said that Aboulcasem had been a very faithful lover. Then Farrukhnaz said:

‘I do not agree with you: Balkis nearly made him forget Dardané. I wish a lover whom death robs of his mistress, to preserve always such tender remembrance of her as to make him incapable of a new passion, but men do not pride themselves on such great constancy.’

‘Pardon, madam,’ said Sutlumemé, ‘men have been known whose fidelity has never given way. You will be persuaded of it if you will listen to the story of Couloufe and the beautiful Dilara.’

‘Well,’ replied Farrukhnaz, ‘I permit you to relate it to us.’

The nurse immediately began it thus.