The King Nasiraddoleh, great prince that he was, was obliged to admit that he had not more charming women in his seraglio. He began to scrutinise them one after another. He began with the lute-players, who appeared very beautiful to him. He did not find the tambourine-players less agreeable; and when he came to examine the singers, he saw one whose beauty dazzled him. ‘Is that,’ he said to the merchant, ‘the Circassian you have spoken to me about?’

‘Yes, my lord,’ replied Abderrahman, ‘it is she; am I a flatterer? Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?’

The merchant awaited the reply of the King of Moussul, which he did not doubt would be very flattering to Zeineb; but he was very much astonished when he saw that the prince, instead of praising the beauty of this slave, assumed a serious and grieved manner, without saying what he thought of her, from which he gathered that the monarch found Zeineb more beautiful than all the women of his seraglio, and was secretly annoyed at it. ‘My lord,’ he said a moment after, on re-conducting him to his apartment, ‘I see that I have presumed too far upon the charms of Zeineb; I have doubtless over-praised them to you.’

Nasiraddoleh replied not to this speech, and when he reached his bedchamber, he begged his host to leave him alone there, because he wished, he said, to rest. Abderrahman retired imme­diately.

The next morning the young merchant went to the king. He hoped to find the monarch in a pleasanter frame of mind, but he found him so sad and downcast that he was much touched. ‘What is the matter, my lord?’ he said to him. ‘What dark cloud veils your eyes? What is the cause of the profound melancholy in which you are plunged?’

‘Abderrahman,’ replied the king, ‘I depart to-day for Moussul. I carry with me a grief which time will perhaps only augment; let me go with­out asking me the reason of it.’

‘No, my lord,’ replied the merchant, ‘you must tell it me; do not hide it from me, I beg of you. I have perhaps been imprudent enough to fail in the respect due to you? I have abused the kindness of a great prince towards me? I have doubtless offended you?’

‘God forbid,’ replied Nasiraddoleh, ‘that I should complain of you! I only lament my evil fate Again,’ he continued, ‘do not ask what troubles me.’

The more the King of Moussul persisted in concealing the cause of his affection, the more the merchant pressed him to reveal it to him. The prince prepared to depart, with the intention of keeping his secret. But at last his host com­pelled him by his persistence to reveal it to him.

‘Well, Abderrahman,’ said Nasiraddoleh on parting from him, ‘you wish me to speak; I will satisfy you. I love, or rather I adore, Zeineb. I was not able to see her without being inspired with the fatal love which troubles my rest. I wished to depart without making this sad admission to you; you have dragged it from me; do not be so unfriendly as to reproach me with it. Alas! I shall expiate it only too well by all the pain I shall suffer. Farewell!’

At these words he left his friend and took the road to Moussul.

The speech of Nasiraddoleh strangely surprised Abderrahman, who was a long time recovering himself after the prince’s departure. ‘Ah! unhappy man that I am,’ he cried; ‘why did I let the king see Zeineb? Ought I not to have fore­seen that he could not look upon her with impunity? He will languish at his court. The women of his seraglio, beautiful as they are, will not be able to make him forget the fatal Circassian who occupies his thoughts. I judge by myself; a heart charmed by her cannot burn with any other love. It will be a reproach to me all my days that I have caused the unhappiness of a king greater by reason of his virtues than by his crown. It is I who have interrupted the course of his life’s happi­ness. As a price of all the marks of friendship which I have received from him, is it right that I should plunge a dagger in his heart? No! my dear prince, no! Abderrahman will not leave you in the cruel condition he has reduced you to! I am ready to sacrifice myself for you. I will yield Zeineb to you, I am resolved upon it.’

As soon as he had taken this resolution, he called some of his officers and ordered them to prepare a litter. Then he sent for Zeineb and said to her: ‘You are no longer mine, you belong to the King of Moussul; it is he whom you saw last night. He has a violent passion for you; he is amiable. You must submit without reluctance to the gift I make him of your beauty.’

At this speech the slave began to cry: ‘Is it possible,’ she said, ‘that Abderrahman abandons me after having so often sworn immortal love for me? Ah! you love me no longer; a new beauty triumphs doubtless over the power of my eyes, and you send me away only to avoid the secret reproaches which my presence would be to you.’

‘No, beautiful Zeineb,’ replied Abderrahman, quite distressed; ‘you have no rival, and I have never loved you more; I swear it by the tomb of the Great Prophet which is at Medina.’

‘And if that is so,’ interrupted Zeineb, ‘why must we separate?’

‘It makes me very sad,’ he replied; ‘but I cannot allow a prince for whom I have the tenderest friendship, and who has given me so many evidences of his for me, to lead a languishing existence. From the moment that it is a question of his peace of mind, I no longer think of my own. When I measure the distance which Nature has put between this rival and myself, there is no sacrifice that I do not think I ought to make; and, moreover, when I think that it is to make you the favourite of a sovereign, this thought, I admit, softens the blow caused me in giving you up. Go, then, and fulfil the happy destiny which awaits you at Moussul; hasten to join Nasiraddoleh, and let joy succeed grief in his heart.’

At these words, during which he shed tears, he ordered the officers he had selected to conduct Zeineb to Moussul to take her away promptly and remove her from his sight, for she was in tears, and appeared so grieved that it was almost more than he could bear. The officers put her in the litter with an old slave who waited on her, and they took the road which the King of Moussul had taken.

It was in vain that they made haste, the litter went too slowly for it to be possible to overtake Nasiraddoleh, who was mounted on the most vigor­ous Arab horse. He arrived in his capital several days before Zeineb, who had no sooner arrived there than one of her escort ran to the palace to inform the king that Abderrahman their master had sent him this slave.

It is impossible to describe the surprise and joy of the monarch when he heard this news. ‘O, generous friend!’ he cried, ‘were I not already per­suaded that you are the most perfect friend in the world, I could not now doubt it, since you prefer my happiness to your own.’

He sent the chief of his eunuchs to receive her, and had a separate apartment given her, the most comfortable and the most magnificent in the palace. It was not long before she saw the prince appear there. He approached her, and remarking that the expression of her face was sad, ‘Beautifu Zeineb,’ he said, ‘it is not difficult to perceive that your heart does not smile upon the sacrifice which the generous Abderrahman makes me. I see that you come to Moussul rather as a victim who is led to death than as a proud beauty who sees a sovereign at her feet; you think more of the loss of a man whom you love than of the conquest of a king who adores you.’

‘My lord,’ replied Zeineb, ‘I ought to be con­tent with the new lot which has befallen me here. I ought to rejoice at being able to give happiness to a prince such as you. I will say more. I should wish to forget the ungrateful man who abandons me, and give you his place in my heart. Why can I not, in order to revenge myself for his treachery, feel from this moment all the love for you that his deceptive ardour has inspired in me for him. But, alas! unfortunately for me, I think too much of the traitor! As long as I live he will always be present in my mind, and will unceasingly disturb the peace of my life.’ The beautiful slave, saying these words, burst into tears and sobbed so that Nasiraddoleh was deeply touched.

‘Ah, charming Zeineb!’ he cried, ‘moderate your grief, I beg of you, and let me flatter myself at least that time and my solicitude will triumph over it. Do not take from me that hope with which alone I can support life.’

The King of Moussul was not content with saying this to the beautiful slave; he threw himself at her feet, and adding to what he had just said a thousand other tender and passionate things, he made every effort to console her, but could not succeed. He saw, moreover, that the more he com­bated her grief the more it seemed to increase, so that he retired. He preferred to leave Zeineb to adding to her grief by his presence.