here lived once on a time, in the province of Khorassan, a rich merchant, to whom, in his sixtieth year, a son was born, and he called his name Alischar. Fifteen years afterwards the father died, but not without giving his son, in the hour of death, many excellent advices and moral instructions as to his conduct through life. Alischar buried his father, and not long afterwards his mother also, and began to exercise diligently the trade which his parents had bequeathed to him. In this way a whole year was spent, without the least departure from the wise course of behaviour which his father had prescribed for him in his last moments. But, unfortunately, ere many weeks more were gone, he fell into the company of certain vicious people, who seduced him into a life of such luxury and extravagance, that in a short time the money the old man had left him was entirely spent. Proceeding in the same follies, he by-and-bye was obliged to part with the shop itself,—the household furniture followed,—and, in a word, Alischar was left without anything he could call his own, except the bare roof over his head and the clothes upon his back.

Having nothing wherewithal to still the cravings of hunger, the youth might now be seen daily roaming about the streets, idle and listless. One day in this sad condition he was loitering about in the great square of the city, when his attention was attracted by a crowd of people, who seemed to be gathered around one who sold some merchandise by auction. He drew near, and, mixing among the assemblage, saw that the business was the selling of a beautiful young slave, who stood in the midst with a form of the most fascinating elegance, cheeks that outshone the rose, and beauty more dazzling than the reflection of the full moon in a fountain of dissolved pearls. Scarcely had he looked upon her ere love seized him and mastered him; he knew not what to do or to say, but remained like a stone in the midst of the crowd, gazing. The bystanders, who were ignorant that Alischar had so soon dissipated his patrimony, never doubted that he had come in order to be a bidder for the beautiful slave. The crier moved his situation so as to stand right opposite to him, with the girl in his hand, and began to call out the usual words more loudly than before, "Ye rich merchants, ye honourable wholesale dealers, gentlemen all of worth and condition, what say ye for this brunette slave, who is the mistress of the moon of heaven, whose name is called Smaragdine, and whose fame is purer than the pearl in the depths of the Red Sea? Say your bidding, great and small."

At first five hundred and twenty-five ducats were offered; but immediately there came forward an old man, by name Beschadeddin, shapeless in his form and shuffling in his gait,—the aversion of every eye that rested on him. This old man came forward across the market-place, and offered without hesitation a thousand ducats.

The crier cast his eyes around, but the former bidders remained silent, and then asked the master of the slave if he was satisfied with this offer.

"I am," said the merchant, "but upon condition that the girl herself is so also; for I have sworn to her, that she shall be sold to no one for whose service she does not herself feel an inclination."

Upon this the crier turned to the girl, and asked her what she had to say to the matter. She cast her bright eyes upon the hateful old man, and replied, "Know ye not the verse of the old poet, how he says:

"You are right," said the auctioneer, laughing (and the master of the slave re-echoed his laugh and his answer); "let us see whether we cannot light upon a younger bidder."

With that there drew near a man whose years were not few, but he had dyed his beard and moved trippingly. He also offered a thousand ducats; but at that moment Smaragdine began to recite as from the book of some poet, but the verses were in truth her own:

A third now came forward, but unfortunately he was one-eyed. The slave regarded him, and quoted, or seemed to quote, without hesitation,

"Look round you," said the crier; "is there none here that pleases you better?" And with this he pointed to a short stout man whose beard was of unusual dimensions.

"Fie!" said the slave, "this is he whom the poet had in his eye when he sang,

"Choose for yourself, girl," said the auctioneer, laughing more heartily than before; "I pray you look round upon all the circle of the bystanders."

The slave cast her eyes slowly around the company, and at last rested them upon Alischar, whose appearance had charmed her from the first moment.

"Mr. Crier," said she, "I will belong to no one but this handsome young man. It is of him that the poet was thinking when he wrote those verses:

When she ceased from her recitation, her master drew near to Alischar, and said, "Friend, you see what a wonder of beauty, education, and eloquence this slave is; and, if you got such a treasure for a thousand ducats, be assured you were a most fortunate man. I swear to you that she can read the Koran in seven different methods—that she excels equally in seven different styles of penmanship—that she embroiders to admiration in silk, in silver, and in gold—and that you will soon get your money out of her, if it were but by the sale of her works in the market-place."

The crier also put in his word. "O sir," quoth he to Alischar, "it is obvious that Providence has an especial kindness for you: she is a pearl and a jewel. You are about to be the happiest of men."

Alischar could not help smiling when he heard all this.

"How!" said he to himself, "last night I went supperless to bed, and yet these people all fancy I am in a condition to pay a thousand ducats for a dark-eyed slave!"

He shook his head, for he would fain escape the pain of saying openly that he was too poor to think of such a purchase.

"Quick," said the beautiful slave, "let me speak to the young man myself: I must talk to him a little in private, for I am determined that he, and he only, shall buy me."

The crier took her by the hand, and, leading her to Alischar, retired a few paces to allow them opportunity of conversation.

"Amiable young man!" whispered she to the youth, "will you not buy me?"

Alischar shook his head sorrowfully.

"Aha!" said she, "I have it. Perhaps you think I am too dear? Will you give nine hundred ducats for me?"

"No."

"Eight hundred?"

"No."

"Seven hundred?"

"No, no."

And in this way she came down to one hundred ducats, receiving always the same melancholy monosyllable in reply.

"I have not a hundred ducats in the world," said Alischar, and a deep sigh came from his breast.

"Perhaps you could give ninety—eighty—seventy?"

At last he could not help himself, and whispered in her ear,—"Angel of light!" said he, "I have neither gold nor silver, not to talk of ducats; I have not a penny in the world: you must find another purchaser."

"Do what I bid you," answers she. "Take hold of my hand, and kiss me on the side of the cheek, for that is the signal of the bargain being completed."

Alischar, scarcely conscious of his proceedings, obeyed the girl. The instant afterwards she drew a purse from her bosom, and said, "Take that, my love; you will find a thousand ducats in it: pay nine hundred to my master for me, and lead your new slave home with all speed."

When they came to the house there was neither bed, sofa, table, nor dish in it. The slave instantly sent Alischar to the market to get a few necessary moveables and provisions. He did what she bade him. Smaragdine forthwith put the house in the nicest order, and set about dressing a little supper with the most exquisite skill. In short, the next day Alischar married the beautiful slave. Then Smaragdine set herself busily to work in embroidering a carpet. She represented on it all sorts of quadrupeds so skilfully that one expected to see them move; and birds, so that it was a wonder one did not hear them singing. In the whole of this work she occupied only eight days, and when these were over she sent her man to the market to sell the carpet, cautioning him, however, with great strictness, to avoid falling into any adventure that might terminate in their separation. Alischar followed scrupulously the instructions of his wife, and in this manner, supported by Smaragdine's needlework, they spent a whole year of undisturbed felicity.

One day, as Alischar was going to market with one of Smaragdine's coverlets, as usual, to sell, he happened to meet with a certain Infidel who at once offered him sixty ducats for it. He had a secret disinclination to have any dealings with a Giaour, and asked first sixty-five, and then seventy ducats, and so up at last to a hundred. The man, to his astonishment, said, "Well, there is your money;" and not having the face to play the extortioner further, Alischar pursed the gold, and returned homewards. He was close to the door of his house ere he observed that the Giaour had been following him, and was just behind him.

"I see you are now at home," said the Infidel, "and I beg you will have the kindness to give me a cup of water, for I have been broiling in the streets all day, and am ready to expire with thirst."

Alischar, who would never have forgiven himself for refusing so trivial a civility, went immediately into the house for a jug of water.

"Where have you been lingering so long to-day?" said Smaragdine. "I know not how or why, but a certain painful anticipation of some misfortune has been hanging over my mind ever since you went out. It rejoices my very heart to see you come home sound and well again; but what is it you want with the water-jug?"

"Only to refresh a person who seems about to die of thirst," answered Alischar; "but I shall be back again in a moment, my dear Smaragdine." With this he ran downstairs, and was surprised to find the Infidel, whom he had left without on the street, seated within the porch.

"Dog of a Giaour!" says he, "what do you here?"

"Pardon me, good sir," replies the Giaour; "I was so wearied that my legs refused to support me any longer, and it was a matter of mere necessity that I should sit down somewhere."

Alischar gave him a cup of water, and waited to see him arise and take his departure; but, behold, nothing was less in the man's mind.

"Out with you," at last cries Alischar; "out this moment, I say."

"Blessed," says the Giaour, "be they that refuse not a drink of water to him who standeth athirst before the door, and who grudge not a bit of bread to him that is a-hungered. Now my thirst is quenched, but my hunger is even greater than that was. Give me a bit of bread and a couple of onions, and for more I will not trouble you."

"Pack off!" said Alischar; "there is nothing in the house."

"With your leave, sir," says the other, producing his purse, "here are one hundred ducats: have the kindness to seek some bread and onions here in your neighbourhood, and I shall feel myself eternally obliged by your condescension."

"The man is mad," thinks Alischar to himself; "but that is no reason why I should suffer a hundred ducats to go a-begging for quarters."

"Haste, sir, haste!" continued the Giaour. "I am near to death, so great is my hunger, and no one knows what sort of a misery that is until he has experienced it himself. If it be but a crust, a crumb—a morsel of dry meal even; but something I must have, else I want strength to move myself from this seat."

"Wait a moment, then," said Alischar. And with that he went out, taking care to lock the door behind him. He soon returned with roast meat, pastry, honey, a water-melon, and some bread, upon a tray.

"Oh!" cried the Giaour, when he saw him returning so, "this is too much. Ten men might dine on this, and here am I alone before it all, unless you would do me the honour to sit with me."

"Eat alone," said Alischar harshly.

But by-and-bye the guest takes the water-melon, and divides it very neatly into two parts, contriving by dexterous management of the knife to besmear the one of these with a strong tincture of nepenthe of Crete and opium, enough to have put an elephant to sleep.

"Pray," said the Infidel, holding the medicated half towards Alischar, "accept this beautiful slice of melon at the hands of your servant."

Alischar could not be so rude as to refuse this: he ate the fruit, and in a moment the fatal effects of it were apparent, for he sank into utter oblivion, losing all his senses at once.

The Giaour rises softly the moment he perceives this, locks the door, and putting the key of the house in his pocket, runs with all speed to inform his brother of the success of his treachery. This was the old Beschadeddin, our acquaintance, who, though he pretended to be a Mussulman, had always remained an Infidel. It was he who had excited his brother to all this knavery, in order that he himself might if possible gain possession of Smaragdine. He now took his people with him, provided himself with gold, mounted his mule, and repaired directly to Alischar's habitation. His slaves seized Smaragdine by force, threatening her with instant death if she dared to utter a single cry, and so conveyed her in safety to the house of their master.

"Ah, wretch!" says the old reprobate, "have I got you at last into my hands? I swear to you, that if you do not consent to renounce Mahomet I will make minced meat of you forthwith."

"Hack me and hew me into a thousand shreds, if such be your pleasure," answers she; "but know, wretch of wretches! that a Moslem I am, and a Moslem I will die. Allah chastises those He best loves with difficulties and dangers, and upon Him alone I set all my trust."

Upon this the wretched ancient gave orders to his female slaves to prick Smaragdine's flesh with pins, and then to tie her up in the corner of the kitchen, but on no account to give her a morsel to eat. But even this last blow had no effect on Smaragdine, who merely exclaimed as she had been doing before,

"God is God, and Mahomet is His Prophet!"

When poor Alischar, on his part, awoke from his sleep, and found himself alone in his bed, fear unutterable came into his mind, and he began to cry out for his Smaragdine like one possessed. But his cries were as useless as his searches: he could find his love nowhere, and concluded that the vile Giaour had deceived him for the sake of abstracting her. At first he sat in a corner shedding hot tears, hour after hour, by himself; but perceiving that his tears were of no avail, he tore his garments, took a stone in each hand, and walked through the town beating his breast alternately with these stones, and crying out all the time in a loud voice of distress, "O Smaragdine! Smaragdine!"

The children collected about him, and first one and then another of them entreated him to tell his story. He did so, and whoever heard him pitied him. After he had in this way gone through the whole town, he happened to see an old woman of his acquaintance sitting at her door, and saluted her respectfully. The old lady, being knowing in such matters, perceived at once the symptoms of a desolate lover, and asked him the reason of his distress. He told her all, and she said to him,

"I am very much grieved for your case, my son; but take courage. I certainly think my assistance will be of much advantage to you. Go hence immediately, buy one of the bread-baskets in which the hawkers carry their loaves about, and put a few articles of female attire in it. I undertake to go about with the wares, and I flatter myself you will ere long hear some tidings of Smaragdine."

Alischar was out of himself with joy even at this small glimpse of hope; he covered the hand of the old dame with tears and kisses, and forthwith fetched her what she had asked for. She made herself ready without delay to commence her operations, and in the course of her wanderings came, after no long space of time, to the very house of Beschadeddin.

She happened to enter at a moment when the female slaves of the house were misusing poor Smaragdine.

"And what," says she, "has the poor child done to you that you should treat her so roughly?"

"In truth," they answered, "we do what we do against our own inclination, but we must obey our master's orders."

"Not when he is from home, surely," says the old woman again; "do have a little pity. Oblige me so far as to unbind this unfortunate, and refresh her a little with some food."

The slave-girls, whose hearts were by no means destitute of sensibility, loosed her bands, and left her for a moment alone with the old woman. She made good use of the happy occasion, told her in whose name she had come, and said that if she would take care to be at the window exactly at midnight, Alischar would be there at that moment, when she might easily drop upon his shoulders and regain her freedom. With this she hies away to Alischar to make him acquainted with her success. She assured him that Beschadeddin being from home, the slaves had promised to leave Smaragdine unbound for that one night, and he needed not many words to make him undertake the adventure.

He was at the appointed spot the moment darkness closed, determined to stand there and wait patiently for the time when his love should appear. But alas! his sorrow had cost him many slumberless nights, and now that he thought himself secure of his happiness again, long-absent sleep came, and overpowered him suddenly where he stood on the street.

It happened that just about this time a thief was passing down the same street. Perceiving that Alischar was fast asleep, this fellow eased him of his turban, and setting that on his head, was about to proceed on his way. Smaragdine, at this moment standing in the window, saw the gleam of her lover's turban, and never doubting that it was worn by Alischar himself, opened the lattice, and said to the thief in an audible whisper,

"Come, come, love, I am ready to come down."

"Here is a fine adventure," quoth the thief to himself; "let us make the best of it."

With this he placed himself below Smaragdine's window, received her on his shoulders, and darted off with her like lightning.

"Oh," says she to him, "you are so strong, you trot as nimbly as if you were a horse under me; and the good old woman had persuaded me that grief had weakened you so that you could scarcely drag your own limbs along."

The gentleman, on his part, made no answer to these observations, and Smaragdine at last began to feel his face, which being very rough and half covered with hair, her error was apparent, and she began to cry out with all her might,

"Who art thou? who art thou?"

"Silence!" answered the thief: "I am Hirvan the Kurd, and I belong to the band of Ahmed-ed-deyf. We are forty of us, all jolly brothers of the trade, and a happy life shall you lead with us."

Smaragdine perceived into what horrors her error had plunged her: she committed her soul to God and her body to the Prophet, and allowed Hirvan to proceed with her in silence.

He conveyed her straight to a cavern without the city, which was the hiding-place of the band. At that moment there was no one in it but the mother of the captain, who had been left to arrange the plunder of the preceding night, and in particular the wardrobe of a young cavalier whom they had murdered, and whose horse and portmanteau were observed just within the entrance of the cavern. The young robber handed over Smaragdine to the old lady's protection, and went out again in quest of more adventures; and no sooner were they alone than the old one began to praise Smaragdine's beauty, and to felicitate her upon the prospect of being bride to her own son, the captain, whose manifold accomplishments she most vigorously extolled. Smaragdine, after a little while, began to dry her tears, and by degrees affected to be quite comforted. She even went so far as to say that she regretted one thing more than all the rest, and this was that she could not take a bath, and be ready to give the captain a reception more worthy of his rank and character.

"Ah, the bath! the bath!" cries the old woman, "you are quite in the right; there is no comfort in this world like the bath; but it is a luxury I never enjoy, for I have nobody about me to shampoo me."

"Here am I," says Smaragdine; "allow me to attend on you the first, and then you will do the like good office to me."

The bargain was soon struck. The bath was got into order, and the old woman, the first time for many years, entered it. Smaragdine kept the water very hot, and rubbed and scrubbed the old dame so, that she was quite in transports, and at length fell fast asleep under the pleasing influence. While she slept Smaragdine took possession of the clothes and arms of the murdered cavalier, mounted his horse, and galloped from the cavern, without having the least notion whither.

When morning broke she found herself in an uncultivated country, destitute of any marks of human habitation. She ate some roots and fruits, allowed her horse to graze under the trees, and so proceeded all the day.

On the eleventh morning she descried, in the valley before her, a noble and beautifully situated town; and behold, as she drew nearer to the gates, there came from thence a multitude of horsemen, who surrounded her upon the highway, threw themselves on the ground before the hoofs of her horse, kissed her garment, and hailed her as the Sultan sent to them by the especial care of Heaven. Each man clapped his hands, and exclaimed, Allah jausur es Sultaun![18] that is to say, God give victory to the Sultan, King of the world—blessed be thy coming!

What may all this mean? thinks the bewildered girl to herself. She asked the question aloud, and the Lord High Chamberlain hastened to answer it. "Know, sire," said he, "that when the Sovereign of this city dies without children, all the inhabitants are, according to the constitution, assembled together in the great street, there ready to come out and salute as their Prince the first traveller who happens to emerge from the wilderness; and in this manner it is impossible for us not to acknowledge the finger of Providence, who gives the crown to the person He judges most fit to wear it. Heaven be praised for having sent us, on this occasion, a King such as you seem to be; for had it been never such a ragamuffin, or even scoundrel, it must have been equally our duty to welcome him as our lord."

"Believe not," answered Smaragdine, recollecting herself, "believe not that in me you hail any low-born Prince. No, my lords, I am the son of a noble house, who happened to take into my head the fancy of riding through the world in quest of adventures; and here, as you perceive, gentlemen, here is one that appears to be by no means of a despicable description to begin with."

Without delay Smaragdine held her triumphant entry into the city, opened the treasury chambers of the dead King, and distributed a large proportion of the gold that was found there to propitiate the goodwill of the inhabitants, above all of the army. In this way all hearts were won, and every class of the people remained full of affection and devotion to the sovereign authority. The Sultan alone was unhappy. Her thoughts rested afar off upon her Alischar. In the harem she constrained herself so far as to appear well pleased with the songs, dances, and banquets prepared for her; but when night approached, she retired to a solitary chamber, and spent the silent hours in fasting and praying and melancholy reflection.

After a full twelve months had been passed in this manner, without any tidings of the lost Alischar, she assembled on the feast of the New Year the Viziers and lords of the chamber, and gave command that a vast amphitheatre should be erected in the centre of the city. In the midst a lofty dome was placed, below which seats were arranged for the nobles of the realm. Here, when all was finished, Smaragdine entertained them with a stately feast; and her heralds made proclamation, that henceforth, on the first day of every new moon, a season naturally devoted to festivities, the Sultan would give a banquet to all his subjects in the amphitheatre: on that day, under pain of death, no shop should be opened, nor merchandise cared for. On the day of the first new moon, accordingly, the whole of the people were assembled in the presence of their Prince. Each ate, drank, and enjoyed himself as much as he could, well satisfied that in so doing he fulfilled the decree of his Sovereign.

Glad at heart was Smaragdine, for she flattered herself that this assembling of the people might one day or other furnish the means of getting some intelligence concerning her dear Alischar. Just while this thought passed through her mind, behold, a man rose up, and stretching out his hand, drew to himself from some distance a dish of milk, in which rice, sugar, and cinnamon were mingled, and there arose a cry of "Shame! shame! shame on the glutton, who is unsatisfied with that which the King's bounty had placed before his own seat."

"The reason," said the man, "is only this, that they have placed a fricassee before me, and I eat no fricassees."

"I am convinced," cries another, "that this is some dog of an Infidel, and that this happens to be one of their fast-days."

Smaragdine, whom this disturbance had not escaped, gave orders forthwith that the man should be brought before her throne. The people ceased from eating and drinking, and every eye and ear were fixed upon the footstool of the Sultan.

"What is your name?" said Smaragdine, "and for what purpose have you come into my states?"

The wretch, who had clothed himself in a white turban, which of right belongs only to the Moslems, made answer, "My name is Ali; I am a weaver by trade, and I have come hither in the hope to gain my bread honestly by the labour of my hands."

"Well, well," says Smaragdine, "bring quickly hither my necromantic tablet Romla, and the steel pen that belongs to it, and soon shall the truth be made manifest."

With that she began, apparently, her calculation, cast her eyes upwards, and after a pause of some moments, said, "Dog, thou liest! Thou art a Giaour, and thou hast come hither with some wicked intention. Confess the truth, or thy head flies from thy shoulders upon the spot!"

"Pardon! pardon!" cried the stranger, altogether astonished; for he never doubted that the secret virtue of the Romla had detected him: "pardon, great King! It is true I am a Giaour."

Smaragdine gave orders that he should instantly be hung, his carcass thrown into the court of offal, and his head fixed before the gate of the palace. The people witnessed the execution, and applauded equally the astrological skill and the stern justice of their Sovereign.

On the first day of the second month the same festival was repeated. It was again proclaimed that every one should eat, drink, and rejoice, but that none should on any account touch anything but what happened to be set before himself. The nobles assembled; the troops stood in order of parade; the people had taken their places in the amphitheatre. The King was on his throne, and surveyed the scene around with attentive eyes. At this moment a foreigner came, all hastily and dusty from his journey, to the door of the amphitheatre, and his loud inquiries as to the meaning of the splendid scene before him were heard distinctly even where the King sat. An old woman, near the entrance, explained to him the meaning of the feast, but forgot to inform him of the regulations as to meddling with dishes at a distance from one's own place. The man took his place, and shortly afterwards stretched out his hand to seize something a little way off. "Hold!" cried at once a thousand voices; "hold, or you will be hanged."

The man, who had no very pure conscience to sustain his nerves, took it for granted his fate was sealed; and, without a moment's delay, began leaping over the benches, in the hopes to make his escape. The King nodded; he was arrested and placed before the throne. "Who art thou?" said Smaragdine, "and wherefore hast thou come into our states?".

"My name," answered he, "is Osman. I am by profession a gardener, and have come hither to seek for certain rare trees and flowers."

"Holla, there!" cries the King, "bring hither quickly my tablet Romla and the steel pen, and speedily will the truth see daylight."

With this, Smaragdine began to study the tablet attentively: she kept her eyes for some moments fixed upon the sky, and then said, "Hateful churl, thou liest! Thy name is Hirvan the Kurd, and by profession thou art a thief. Confess the truth, wretch!"

The man's colour changed; his tongue refused its office; at length he confessed the truth. The King ordered him to be hung immediately, his carcass and head to be treated as had been done with those of the Giaour. The people returned with quickened appetites to their dinner, and admired more than ever the wisdom and rectitude of their Prince.

The first day of the third moon brought with it the usual proclamation, the usual feast, and the usual consequences. A stranger appears, who, not knowing the law of the festival, transgresses it grossly, is accused, and finally conducted into the immediate presence of Smaragdine, who puts to him the usual questions.

"My name," replies the stranger, "is Resim, and I am a poor dervish."

"Bring my Romla tablet and my steel pen," cries the King.

They do as they are bid: Smaragdine casts her eyes upwards, preserves for a moment the usual silence, and exclaims, "Thou liest, dog! thy name is Beschadeddin; outwardly thou art a Moslem, but in heart an unbeliever: confess the verity, or thou diest."

It was no one but Beschadeddin. Like the robber, he had, after the loss of the beautiful slave, set out upon his travels in the hope of finding her again, and his ill fortune had conducted him to the same city. Full of dismay, he was constrained to confess the truth, and his head figured forthwith beside those of his brother adventurers. The feast proceeded with redoubled jollity, and louder than ever were the sagacity and justice of the Sultan extolled. Smaragdine alone took no part in the general merriment.

It was the first morning of the fourth moon, as the people were congregated together for the usual festival, when there appeared, at one of the doors of the amphitheatre, a young man, beautiful as the day, but having the lustre of his complexion dimmed by the cloud of long afflictions. It was Alischar, and Smaragdine had nigh swooned away with the joy of beholding him.

After he awoke in the street without his turban, and learnt from the old woman what had happened, and that his dear Smaragdine had indeed vanished, though not in his company, his spirit was yielded up as a prey to the bitterest anguish. A sore illness fell upon him, and for a whole year he had lain helpless, nursed carefully by the good old woman. But as soon as he began to recover a little strength, he set out a-wandering though the world, if perchance he might yet once again find his wife. It happened that he came on the morning of this feast-day to the city where she was King, and, being unacquainted with the regulations of the amphitheatre, he fell into a mistake similar to that which had already proved fatal to so many travellers. He was, like them, accused and summoned to the Prince's footstool. He knelt down reverently, and kissed the dust before her; and being asked what was his name and his business, made answer, without hesitation,

"My name is Alischar, and I am come hither, wandering over the whole earth, in quest of the fountain of my life, my dear Smaragdine, whom I have lost."

The King sent for the tablet Romla and the steel pen. "You have said the truth," says the King; "and I perceive that Heaven designs ere long to restore to you your lost love."

With this she commanded them to lead Alischar to the bath, to clothe him in a robe of honour, and treat him in her palace with all respect and consideration.

Smaragdine could scarcely wait until night came, so great was her impatience. When it was dark, she commanded that Alischar should be brought before her, and invited him to partake of the royal supper. The young man, who was naturally modest, was confounded with this condescension, but constrained himself, and acquitted himself as well as he could. It appeared that his behaviour gave no displeasure to the King; for, supper being ended, the chief of the black eunuchs came into the apartment, and Alischar heard him receive his Sovereign's orders to place him in one of the palace sleeping-chambers.

Presently a whisper was heard close to his pillow, and ere he could make any answer, his visitant revealed herself.

It was Smaragdine: she was out of herself with joy; she burst out into loud laughter, such as could proceed from no lips but hers, and made herself known to the enraptured Alischar.

Next morning the King called together the nobles of the city, and requested them to choose some one to act as Viceroy for a season, announcing the necessity of undertaking a journey to his own country in company with the stranger.

They immediately complied with this request, and escorted the Prince from their gates with all the splendour of royal attendance. But Smaragdine had no intention ever to reclaim their homage: she had found her Alischar, and preferred a life of love and peace in her native place, to a disagreeable disguise and the troublesome magnificence of sovereign estate.

FINIS.