she and her lover came to the
end of the walk, turned to enter another, and passed before me. I
had already drawn my cimeter, and her lover being next me, I
struck him on the neck, and brought him to the ground. I
concluded I had killed him, and therefore retired speedily
without making myself known to the queen, whom I chose to spare,
because she was my kinswoman.

The wound I had given her lover was mortal; but by her
enchantments she preserved him in an existence in which he could
not be said to be either dead or alive. As I crossed the garden
to return to the palace, I heard the queen loudly lamenting, and
judging by her cries how much she was grieved, I was pleased that
I had spared her life.

As soon as I had reached my apartment, I went to bed, and being
satisfied with having punished the villain who had injured me,
fell asleep; and when I awoke next morning, found the queen
lying. I cannot tell you whether she slept or not; but I arose,
went to my closet, and dressed myself. I afterwards held my
council. At my return, the queen, clad in mourning, her hair
dishevelled, and part of it torn off, presented herself before
me, and said; "I come to beg your majesty not to be surprised to
see me in this condition. My heavy affliction is occasioned by
intelligence of three distressing events which I have just
received." "Alas! what are they, madam?" said I. "The death of
the queen my dear mother," she replied, "that of the king my
father killed in battle, and of one of my brothers, who has
fallen down a precipice."

I was not displeased that she used this pretext to conceal the
true cause of her grief, and I concluded she had not suspected me
of being the author of her lover's death. "Madam," said I, "so
far from blaming, I assure you I heartily commiserate your
sorrow. I should feel surprise if you were insensible to such
heavy calamities: weep on; your tears are so many proofs of your
tenderness; but I hope that time and reflection will moderate
your grief."

She retired into her apartment, where, giving herself wholly up
to sorrow, she spent a whole year in mourning and lamentation. At
the end of that period, she begged permission to erect a burying
place for herself, within the bounds of the palace, where she
would continue, she told me, to the end of her days: I consented,
and she built a stately edifice, crowned by a cupola, which may
be seen from hence, and called it the Palace of Tears. When it
was fini