She was very pleased to hear Couloufe say that she was more beautiful than the king’s slave. That made her vainer and gayer. She said a thousand delightful things during supper, and by her wit ended by inspiring in her guest all the love of which he was capable. He did not fail in his turn to shine during the repast. Excited by the sight and animation of the young lady, from time to time very pleasing sallies escaped him. When it was time to retire he prostrated himself before Dilara and said to her:

‘Were I to live here a hundred years, I should always feel I had been with you only a moment, but great as is the pleasure I take in your society, I must retire and leave you to rest. To-morrow, if you will permit me, I will return.’

‘I consent,’ replied the lady; ‘you have only to be in the evening at the door of the mosque whence you were fetched to-day, and you will be brought back to this house.’

As she said these words, a slave brought to her a purse of gold and silken threads which was the work of her hands, and in which were jewels of considerable value.

‘Here, Couloufe,’ she said, ‘do not refuse this little present, or you will see me no more.’

The son of Abdallah took the purse, thanked the lady, and left the room. He met the good old woman in the courtyard, she opened the street door and showed him the road to the palace.

As soon as he had arrived thither, he retired to his apartment and went to bed. He passed the rest of the night in recalling to his memory all that he had seen during the day. He was so occupied with Dilara that he could not close his eyes. He rose early and betook himself to the king. This prince, who had not seen him the preceding day, and who had several times asked for him, was much pained.

‘Where do you come from, Couloufe?’ said he as soon as he saw him. ‘What were you doing yesterday? Why did you not appear?’

‘My lord,’ replied the favourite, ‘when your majesty knows the adventure that has befallen me, you will not be surprised at not having seen me.’

At the same time he related all that had passed. When he had finished his story:

‘Is it possible?’ said Mirgehan, ‘that this young lady of whom you tell me, is as beautiful as you say? You speak of her with such animation that I am doubtful about the portrait you draw of her.’

‘My lord,’ replied the son of Abdallah, ‘so far from being a flattering painter, I can assure you that she is still far above what I have said. Yes, if the most famous Chinese painter undertook to paint her, he would fear, with reason, not to be able to equal nature.’

‘That is too much,’ said the king; ‘you make me anxious to see this lady, and I wish absolutely to accompany you presently, since you are to return to her.’

The curiosity of the young king gravely afflicted Couloufe. He was apprehensive of the consequences to his love.

‘What shall I do, my lord?’ he said, ‘to intro­duce you into this lady’s house? Who shall I tell her you are?’

‘I will disguise myself,’ replied Mirgehan, ‘and I will pass as your slave. I will enter with you and will hide myself in a corner, where I shall observe everything.’

The son of Abdallah did not dare reply to his master, who dressed himself as a slave, and at fall of night they both betook themselves to the gate of the mosque. They were not long there before seeing the old woman appear, she said to Couloufe:

‘There was no need to bring this slave with you. You have only to send him back.’

The king was mortified to hear the old woman speak thus, but Couloufe said:

‘My good mother, permit, I beg you, this slave to follow us. He is an intelligent fellow and has agreeable talents. He makes impromptu verses and sings delightfully. Your mistress will not be angry at my showing him to her.’

The old woman said nothing further. They set forth all three, Couloufe clothed in a woman’s over-garment as on the preceding day, and Mirge­han in a slave’s dress. They entered the courtyard, and from there into the room, which they found lit with an infinity of perfumed candles, which gave out agreeable odours.

Dilara asked the son of Abdallah why he had a slave accompanying him.

‘Madam,’ he said, ‘I thought to bring him for your amusement. He is a buffoon, poet, and musician.’

‘That being so,’ she said, ‘he is welcome. But, my friend,’ she added, addressing the king, ‘don’t show lack of respect to my women, for you might repent it.’

The prince, seeing himself obliged to play the buffoon, began to joke, and acquitted himself so well that the lady said to the favourite:

‘Truly, Couloufe, you have in him a very agreeable and witty fellow. I even notice in his manners something noble and gallant. He must act as cup-bearer to us this evening. I feel well-inclined towards him.’

‘Since he has the happiness to please you,’ replied the favourite, ‘he is mine no longer; he is yours, madam.’

‘Catalpan,’ he said to the king, ‘I am no longer your master; this is your mistress.’

At these words the prince approached the lady, kissed her hand and said to her:

‘Madam, I am now your slave, and I feel myself already disposed to serve you with much zeal.’

She accepted Mirgehan as a slave.

‘My lord,’ she said to Couloufe, ‘I look upon that fellow as a creature of mine; but have the goodness to keep him for me. He will live with you, and you will bring him to me each time you come here. I cannot keep him in my house, because it is known that he is your slave. Every­one knows him as that. If he were seen to pass from your service to mine, people might gossip, and I have to take great precautions.’

After conversing for some time, Couloufe and Dilara sat down to table to sup and the king stood before them. As this prince diverted the lady by a thousand pleasantries, she said to the favourite:

‘My lord, permit this fellow to eat and drink with us.’

‘Madam,’ replied Couloufe, ‘he does not generally eat with me.’

‘Do not be so severe,’ replied the lady; ‘let us drink together, that he may love us the more.’

‘Sit down there, Catalpan,’ said the son of Abdallah, ‘since the lady insists.’

The sham slave did not require to be told twice. He sat between Couloufe and the amiable daughter of Boyruc. He ate, and when wine had been brought, the lady filled a cup to the brim and presenting it to him said: ‘Here, Catalpan, drink this to my health.’

He took the cup, after having kissed the hand which gave it him, and he drank. After that wine was poured out all round and the beautiful Dilara, by her example, incited her guests to enjoy themselves. She stretched out a golden cup quite full, and addressing the son of Abdallah:

‘Couloufe,’ she said, ‘I drink to your infatu­ation, to the charming Ghulendam, the king’s favourite.’

‘Madam,’ replied the favourite blushing, ‘please God I may never have the audacity to lift my thoughts to the beloved of my prince. I have too much respect for him.’

‘Ah! you wish to play at discretion,’ inter­rupted the lady laughing. ‘I remember you were speaking to me yesterday of Ghulendam in such an animated manner that you seemed to me to be charmed with her. I am sure you love her. Admit to us frankly that you are not displeasing to her, and that sometimes you give utterance to your love.’

Couloufe was very much alarmed at these words, of which he foresaw the consequences.

‘Pray, madam,’ he said, ‘cease joking on this subject. I have never had a secret meeting with this lady.’

The trouble he evinced redoubled Dilara’s cries. Instead of looking serious, she said: ‘You ought to relate your adventures to us. Catalpan,’ she said, looking at the would-be slave, ‘tell your master to have more confidence in me.’

‘Come, my lord Couloufe,’ said the king, ‘give madam the satisfaction she asks. She asks you so graciously. Relate to her the birth and growth of your love. Tell her how far you have got with Ghulendam, and how you both deceive the king. Madam,’ he added, turning towards Dilara, ‘I am not less curious than yourself to know that, for although I pique myself on being a rather discreet confidant, I assure you that the lord Couloufe has made a mystery to me of his passion for the favourite.’

Mirgehan by this speech succeeded in discon­certing his friend, who perceived that Dilara’s pleasantries had not failed to make a bad impression on the mind of the prince. However, they all three drank, and insensibly the king, heated by the wine, forgot the part he had resolved to play.