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Rh his piece of poetry, did not raise his eyes and so saw nothing of the transformation that had been going on. When he reached the end he had only before him the Princess Ayesha, who looked at him with an ironical smile upon her lips.

Like all poets, who are too much wrapped up in their own creations, Mahmoud-Ben-Ahmed had forgotten that the finest lines are of no worth as compared with a sincere word or a look that is illumined by the light of love. Peris are like women, it behooves one to read them and grasp them just at the very moment when they are about to wing their way back to heaven, to descend to earth no more. Opportunity, is to be seized by the forelock, and the spirits of air by their wings; it is by such methods alone that they are to be subjugated.

"Of a truth, Mahmoud-Ben-Ahmed, you possess a poetic talent of the rarest, and your verses are worthy of being displayed upon the doors of the mosques, written in letters of gold, beside the most celebrated productions of Ferdusi, Saadi and Ibnn-Ben-Omaz. It is a pity that you were so absorbed but now in the perfection of your alliterative rhymes that you did not look at me; you might have seen—something that perhaps you will never see again. The dearest wish of your heart was fulfilled right before your eyes without your being aware of it. Adieu, Mahmoud-Ben-Ahmed, who would marry none but a peri."

Thereupon Ayesha arose with an extremely majestic air, raised a portière of gold brocade and disappeared.

The mute came to seek Mahmoud-Ben-Ahmed and conducted him by the same road back to the same place whence he had taken him.