Page:Fairy tales from the Arabian nights.djvu/387

 to execute his design, he hid in a corner his upper garment, which would have encumbered him, and went to the Palace of Tears. He found it lit up with an infinite number of tapers of white wax, and a delicious scent issued from several boxes of fine gold, of admirable workmanship, all ranged in excellent order. As soon as he saw the bed where the Indian lay, he drew his scimitar, killed the wretch without resistance, dragged his corpse into the court of the castle, and threw it into a well. After this, he went and lay down in the wretch's bed, took his scimitar with him under the counterpane, and waited there to execute his plan.

The magician arrived after a little time. She first went into the chamber where her husband the King of the Black Islands was, stripped him, and beat him with the ox-goad in a most barbarous manner. The poor prince filled the palace with his lamentations to no purpose, and implored her in the most touching manner to have pity on him; but the cruel woman would not give over till she had given him an hundred blows.

'You had no compassion,' cried she, 'and you are to expect none from me.'

After the enchantress had given the king, her husband, an hundred blows with the ox-goad, she put on again his covering of goat's-hair. and his brocade gown over all; then she went to the Palace of Tears, and, as she entered, she renewed her tears and lamentations; then approaching the bed, where she thought the Indian was: 'Alas!' cried she, addressing herself unawares to the sultan; 'my sun, my life, will you always be silent? Are you resolved to let me die, without giving me one word of comfort. My soul, speak one word to me at least, I implore you.'

The sultan, as if he had waked out of a deep sleep, and counterfeiting the language of the Indians, answered the queen in a grave tone, 'There is no strength or power but in God alone, who is almighty.'

At these words the enchantress, who did not expect them, gave a great shout, to signify her excessive joy. 'My dear lord,' cried she, 'do I deceive myself? Is it certain that I hear you, and that you speak to me?'