r right
hand, and the three calenders, with the porter, on her left.

After Zobeide had taken her seat, the whole company remained
silent for some time; at last, Safie, sitting on a chair in the
middle of the room, spoke to her sister Amene, "Dear sister, I
conjure you to rise; you know what I would say." Amene rose, and
went into another closet, near to that where the bitches were,
and brought out a case covered with yellow satin, richly
embroidered with gold and green silk. She went towards Safie and
opened the case, from whence she took a lute, and presented it to
her: and after some time spent in tuning it, Safie began to play,
and accompanying the instrument with her voice, sung a song about
the torments that absence creates to lovers, with so much
sweetness, that it charmed the caliph and all the company. Having
sung with much passion and action, she said to Amene, "Pray take
it, sister, for my voice fails me; oblige the company with a
tune, and a song in my stead." "Very willingly," replied Amene,
who, taking the lute from her sister Safie, sat down in her
place.

Amene played and sung almost as long upon the same subject, but
with so much vehemence, and was so much affected, or rather
transported, by the words of the song, that her strength failed
her as she finished.

Zobeide, desirous of testifying her satisfaction, said, "Sister,
you have done wonders, and we may easily see that you feel the
grief you have expressed in so lively a manner." Amene was
prevented from answering this civility, her heart being so
sensibly touched at the moment, that she was obliged, for air, to
uncover her neck and bosom, which did not appear so fair as might
have been expected; but, on the contrary, were black and full of
scars, which surprised and affected all the spectators. However,
this gave her no ease, for she fell into a fit.

When Zobeide and Safie had run to help their sister, one of the
calenders could not forbear saying, "We had better have slept in
the streets than have come hither to behold such spectacles." The
caliph, who heard this, came to him and the other calenders, and
asked them what might be the meaning of all this? They answered,
"We know no more than you do." "What," said the caliph, "are you
not of the family? Can you not resolve us concerning the two
black bitches and the lady that fainted away, who appears to have
been so basely abused?" "Sir," said the calenders, "this is the
first time of our b