nown, and so public, that thou canst be no stranger
to it. By thy art and skill canst thou tell me what is become of
him? If he be alive, where he is? what he is doing? and if I may
hope ever to see him again?" To this the sorceress replied, "It
is impossible, sir, for me, however skilful in my profession, to
answer immediately the questions your majesty asks; but if you
allow me till to-morrow, I will endeavour to satisfy you." The
sultan granted her the time, and permitted her to retire, with a
promise to recompense her munificently, if her answer proved
agreeable to his hopes.

The sorceress returned the next day, and the grand vizier
presented her a second time to the sultan. "Sir," said she,
"notwithstanding all the diligence I have used in applying the
rules of my art to obey your majesty in what you desire to know,
I have not been able to discover any thing more than that prince
Ahmed is alive. This is certain, and you may depend upon it; but
as to where he is I cannot discover."

The sultan of the Indies was obliged to remain satisfied with
this answer; which left him in the same uneasiness as before as
to the prince's situation.

To return to prince Ahmed. He so often entertained the fairy
Perie Banou with talking about his father, though without
speaking any more of his desire to visit him, that she fully
comprehended what he meant; and perceiving the restraint he put
upon himself, and his fear of displeasing her after her first
refusal, she inferred, from the repeated proofs he had given her,
that his love for her was sincere; and judging by herself of the
injustice she committed in opposing a son's tenderness for his
father, and endeavouring to make him renounce that natural
affection, she resolved to grant him the permission which she knew
he so ardently desired. One day she said to him, "Prince, the
request you made to be allowed to go and see the sultan your
father gave me apprehension that it was only a pretext to conceal
inconstancy, and that was the sole motive of my refusal; but now,
as I am fully convinced by your actions and words that I can
depend on your honour and the fidelity of your love, I change my
resolution, and grant you the permission you seek, on condition
that you will first swear to me that your absence shall not be
long. You ought not to be uneasy at this condition, as if I asked
it out of distrust. I impose it only because I know that it will
give you no concern, convinced, as