Yoo-ti-hu, the handsomest and sprightliest Page in the suite of Pokatoka, King of Gazaret, imprudently fell in love with Omanea, the flower of the king’s harem. Pokatoka, though sadly afflicted with rheumatism, was partial to the amusements of the harem. It happened that he had a slight suspicion of Yoo-ti-hu’s integrity, and this rendered him perfectly miserable. Tally-yang-sang, Great Nazir, or Chamberlain of the Harem, was sent for.

“Mirror of Vigilance,—Quintessence of Piety,—and Disciple of Wisdom,”—such were the Grand Nazir’s titles, and so the king addressed him.—“Well we know thy skill in affairs of the heart. Well we know thy penetration is never at fault. We have required thy presence to demand if thou hast noticed anything peculiar in the conduct of our peerless Omanea, since the addition of Yoo-ti-hu to our suite?”

“There is a lone dove,” replied the Grand Nazir, in his own mysterious way, “whose nest is in the grove of love. Even as this emblem of tenderness awaits the coming of a prisoned mate, so pines in secret my lady Omanea.”

“And by whom think you, wondrous Tally-yang-sang, is this change effected?”

“Your mightiness would scarcely thank me if I made known my suspicions, since they implicate your greatest favorite.”

“Ha! ’tis Yoo-ti-hu! I thought so! I knew it!—he shall die.”

“God is great,” muttered Tally-yang-sang.

“Let the page’s head be brought to me,” said the king, “as a token of my displeasure.”

“With all my heart, sire. I dislike the youth, and your highness shall be obeyed.” The Grand Nazir bowed very low, and left the audience chamber.