Couloufe blushed at this speech, and not know­ing what to reply, he took the letter, opened it, and found these words:

‘Praise be to God alone, and his benediction be upon the great Prophet, his family and his friends. My dear son, since you are no more before my eyes, I have no rest. I am on the thorns of disquietude; the poison of your absence fills my heart, and consumes my life little by little. I have heard from the courier whom the lord Mouzaffer has sent me the adventure which has befallen you. I have immediately had forty black camels with round eyes laden with several sorts of merchandise which I send you to Samarcand, under the command of Gisher, captain of my caravans. Inform me as soon as possible how you are, so that our heart may be consoled and recover joy and health.

‘MASSAOUD.’

Hardly had the son of Abdallah read this letter, than he saw enter his courtyard the forty camels which came from Khokand. Then the captain Gisher said to him: ‘My lord my master, have the kindness, I beg you, to order the camels to be unloaded and the bales to be put in some large hall.’

‘What does all this mean?’ said Couloufe to himself. ‘I have seen surprising adventures occur, but, by Allah! this surpasses them all. This Captain Gisher addressed me as if he knew me perfectly. The cadi and Mouzaffer seem to be deceived by the aspect of affairs. Well, although all this passes my comprehension, don’t let us fail to profit by it. Fortune wishes doubtless to save me by one of her capricious strokes, or Heaven has wished to work a miracle in my favour.’

However astonished Couloufe was at this mar­vellous event, he had the strength to hide his surprise. He put the bales in a room and ordered the camels to be cared for. He even had the assurance to question the camel-driver.

‘Gisher,’ he said, ‘give me news of all my family; have I neither male nor female cousin ill at Khokand?’

‘No, my lord,’ replied Gisher, ‘all your parents, thanks be to God, are in perfect health, excepting your father, who counts the moments of your absence, and who has charged me to tell you that he hopes you will return promptly to Khokand with the lady you have married.’

Whilst the conductor of the camels was speak­ing thus, the cadi, Taher, and his father took leave of the son of Abdallah and returned home, persuaded that he really was the son of Massaoud; but before going, the judge dismissed the guard he had given the newly-married pair. After they had all retired, Couloufe returned to the apartment where he had left Dilara. This lady, through the care of her slaves, had recovered from her swoon. He related to her what had passed and showed her the letter of Massaoud. She had no sooner read the letter than she cried:

‘Just Heaven! it is you to whom we must return thanks for this astonishing marvel; you have had pity on two faithful lovers whose bonds you have united.’

‘Madam,’ said the son of Abdallah, ‘it is not time yet to give way to joy. Our troubles are not finished. What do I say—finished? I am in greater peril than ever. You have made me take the name of a man who is doubtless in Samar­cand. The son of Massaoud must be in this town; his father writes to him and sends him forty camels laden with merchandise, under the conduct of Gisher. This Gisher, who has never apparently seen the son of his master, must have followed the courier of Mouzaffer; it is easy to understand the rest. This mistake, I admit, would be favourable to us if it would last long enough; nothing would prevent our taking flight, as henceforth we shall be watched no more. But the news of the arrival of the camels has perhaps already spread in Samar­cand; the real son of Massaoud will hear it and will go and seek the cadi whom he will undeceive. How do I know that this judge will not return to find me and to carry me off to punish­ment?’

It is thus that Couloufe argued, hovering between fear and hope. He found himself more to be pitied than if he had nothing to hope. He expected every moment to see Taher and the cadi return, undeceived and furious—every moment augmented his anxiety.

Whilst he was thus agitated, the king’s officer, the same man who had been to them two days before, arrived.

‘My lord,’ he said, on entering, ‘I have heard that your misfortunes are over, and that Heaven at last has cast a favourable eye on you. I come to testify my joy to you and to reproach you at the same time. You are not sincere. Why have you deceived me?’

‘My dear lord,’ replied the son of Abdallah, ‘I have told you the truth. I am not from Khokand at all; I am from Damascus, as I told you. My father has been long dead, and the wealth he left me consumed.’

‘Nevertheless,’ replied the officer, ‘they say that forty camels have arrived for you laden with various sorts of stuffs, and that Massaoud writes to you as if you were his own son.’

‘It is true,’ replied Couloufe, ‘that I have received his letter and his merchandise, but I am not his son for all that.’

The officer asked how this had occurred, and when. Couloufe had detailed it, he said: ‘I believe, like you, that it is a mistake and that the son of Massaoud is at Samarcand; therefore I think you had better both escape to-night.’

‘That is our intention,’ replied Couloufe, ‘pro­vided the cadi remains till to-morrow as mistaken as now. We ask nothing better.’

‘You need not be uneasy about that,’ replied the officer. ‘You must hope for the best. Heaven, doubtless, does not wish you to perish, since, by an adventure that savours of the miraculous, it has saved you from the punishment prepared for you.’

To these words he added others to dissipate the fear with which the couple appeared agitated. Then he said farewell to them, wishing them all sorts of prosperity.

When Couloufe and Dilara were alone, they began to talk of their flight, and to prepare for it. They awaited nightfall with much impatience; but before it came they heard a great noise and saw suddenly appear in the courtyard of the caravanserai several cavaliers.

At this sight the couple were seized with fright, and thought it was the cadi who was coming to fetch the son of Abdallah, to put him to death. They soon lost this fear: they were the king’s guards. The captain who led them got off his horse, and, laden with a packet, entered the room where Couloufe was with his wife.

He saluted them both respectfully, and addressing the husband: ‘My lord,’ he said, ‘I come here on behalf of the great Usbec Kan. He wishes to see the son of Massaoud; he knows your adventure, he wishes you to relate it to him yourself, and he sends you this robe of honour to enable you to appear fittingly before him.’

The son of Abdallah could well have dispensed with satisfying the king’s curiosity; however, he was obliged to obey. He clothed himself with the robe of honour, and went out with the captain of the guard, who, showing him a mule with a golden saddle and bridle enriched with precious stones, the stirrup of which was held by a page magnificently attired, said to him: ‘Mount this royal mule, and I will conduct you to the palace.’

Couloufe approached the mule, the page lowered the stirrup and presented it to him; at the same time Couloufe placed his foot in it, jumped lightly into the saddle, and took himself to the palace with the guard.

As soon as he had arrived at the palace, the officers of the king came to receive him, and con­ducted him to the door of the chamber where the prince was accustomed to receive ambassadors. There the grand vizir took him by the hand and introduced him into a hall, where the king, dressed in garments covered with diamonds, rubies, and emeralds, was seated on an ivory throne, around which stood all the great lords of Tartary.

Couloufe was dazzled by the splendour which surrounded Usbec Kan, and, instead of raising his eyes to the prince, he lowered them and went and prostrated himself at the foot of the throne.

The king, seeing him thus, said: ‘Son of Massaoud, I am told that singular adventures have befallen you. I wish you to relate them to me, and to speak to me without reserve.’

Couloufe, struck by the sound of the voice which thus addressed him, raised his eyes, and recognising in the king the same man who had come to see him, whom he had taken for an officer of Usbec Kan, and to whom he had confided all his secrets, he threw himself face downwards on the ground and began to weep.

The vizir raised him and said: ‘Fear nothing, young man; approach the king and kiss the hem of his robe.’

The son of Abdallah, trembling and confused, advanced to the feet of the king, and after having kissed his robe, retired several paces, and stood with his head bent on his breast.

But Usbec Kan did not leave him long in that position; he descended the throne, took him by the hand and led him into his cabinet, where he said to him: