addressed herself to do as I charged her. Then I returned to my house; and as I went along musing sadly upon the fair gifts of his youth, behold, a woman caught hold of my hand;"--And Shahrazad perceived the dawn of day and ceased to say her permitted say.
When it was the One Hundred and Sixty-ninth Night,
She said, It hath reached me, O auspicious King, that the jeweller thus continued:--"A woman caught hold of my hand; and I looked at her and lo! it was the slave-girl who used to come from Shams al-Nahar, and she seemed broken by grief. When we knew each other we both wept and ceased not weeping till we reached my house, and I said to her, 'Knowest thou the news of the youth, Ali bin Bakkar?' She replied, 'No, by Allah!'; so I told her the manner of his death and all that had passed, whilst we both wept; after which quoth I to her, 'How is it with thy mistress?' Quoth she, 'The Commander of the Faithful would not hear a single word against her; but, for the great love he bore her, saw all her actions in a favourable light, and said to her, 'O Shams al-Nahar, thou art dear to me and I will bear with thee and bring the noses of thy foes to the grindstone. Then he bade them furnish her an apartment decorated with gold and a handsome sleeping-chamber, and she abode with him in all ease of life and high favour. Now it came to pass that one day, as he sat at wine according to his custom, with his favourite concubines in presence, he bade them be seated in their several ranks and made Shams al-Nahar sit by his side. But her patience had failed and her disorder had redoubled upon her. Then he bade one of the damsels sing: so she took a lute and tuning it struck the chords, and began to sing these verses,
'One craved my love and I gave all he craved of me, * And tears on cheek betray how 'twas I came to yield: Tear-drops, meseemeth, are familiar with our case, * Revealing what I hide, hiding what I revealed: How can I hope in secret to conceal my love, * Which stress of passion ever showeth unconcealed: Death, since I lost my lover, is grown sweet to me; * Would I knew what their joys when I shall quit the field!
Now when Shams al-Nahar heard these verses sung by the slave-girl,
