nd at last they agreed that the
porter should be the man: as they were consulting how to word
this fatal question, Zobeide returned from her sister Amene, who
was recovered of her fit. She drew near them, and having
overheard them speaking pretty loud, said, "Gentlemen, what is
the subject of your conversation? What are you disputing about?"

The porter answered immediately, "Madam, these gentlemen beseech
you to inform them why you wept over your two bitches after you
had whipped them so severely, and how the bosom of that lady who
lately fainted away came to be so full of scars? These are the
questions I am ordered to ask in their name."

At these words, Zobeide put on a stern countenance, and turning
towards the caliph and the rest of the company, "Is it true,
gentlemen," said she, "that you desired him to ask me these
questions?" All of them, except the vizier Jaaffier, who spoke
not a word, answered, "Yes." On which she exclaimed, in a tone
that sufficiently expressed her resentment, "Before we granted
you the favour of receiving you into our house, and to prevent
all occasion of trouble from you, because we are alone, we
imposed the condition that you should not speak of any thing that
did not concern you, lest you might hear that which would not
please you; and yet after having received and entertained you,
you make no scruple to break your promise. It is true that our
easy temper has occasioned this, but that shall not excuse your
rudeness." As she spoke these words, she gave three stamps with
her foot, and clapping her hands as often together, cried, "Come
quickly:" upon this, a door flew open, and seven black slaves
rushed in; every one seized a man, threw him on the ground, and
dragged him into the middle of the room, brandishing a cimeter
over his head.

We may easily conceive the caliph then repented, but too late,
that he had not taken the advice of his vizier, who, with
Mesrour, the calenders and porter, was from his ill-timed
curiosity on the point of forfeiting his life. Before they would
strike the fatal blow, one of the slaves said to Zobeide, and her
sisters: "High, mighty, and adorable mistresses, do you command
us to strike off their heads?" "Stay," said Zobeide, "I must
examine them first." The frightened porter interrupted her thus:
"In the name of heaven, do not put me to death for another man's
crime. I am innocent; they are to blame." "Alas!" said he,
weeping, "how pleasantly did we pass