rised at these horrors that I hardly knew what I did.
However, in the bath I had time to recollect myself; but recollection
was of little service, for reflection rather increased than cleared my
confusion. One moment I resolved to apply to the Cadi, and declare
every circumstance of the terrible adventure. The next I was awed by
the thoughts of my rash and imprudent vows of secrecy.

"Bennaskar," said I, "has for a month appeared as an angel before me;
but one base action has deformed all his former purity. How can I
reconcile these inconsistencies? Can he, who is the tenderest, the
best of friends, be also the vilest and most cruel of mankind? I have
been accessory to the torture of a most beautiful female--one, too,
who called on the perfect Allah to deliver her. I have been the
instrument of a mean revenge on a helpless woman, and now I yet delay
to inform the Cadi of the villanies of this house of enchantment."

I resolved immediately to repair to the Cadi, and give him full
information of the sorceries of Bennaskar. I hastened out of the bath,
threw my vestments over me, and advanced to the door.

"But," said I, as I went along, "what am I about to do? I shall
forfeit my faith without serving the distressed. Bennaskar expects me
in the saloon, and when he finds that I am gone forth, he will, by the
power of his art, secrete the beautiful female from the eyes of the
Cadi. I have been the guest of Bennaskar a month, and never, till this
day, did I perceive the rooms through which I was led to that
detestable act of cruelty: nay, Bennaskar himself was obliged to wait:
he was impatient till the full of the moon, and oppressed with sorrow
and care when it arose. I will, therefore, for the present, return to
Bennaskar, and will put on the face of cheerfulness, and make my
countenance to shine before him."

Bennaskar met me on my return. "Whence cometh Mahoud?" said he.

"I am," answered I, "just risen from the bath, and I come to meet my
friend Bennaskar."

"Mahoud," answered Bennaskar, "art thou faithful, and wilt thou ever
remain faithful to thy friend?"

These words embarrassed me, and, not daring to answer otherwise, I
said, "Why doth my lord doubt the sincerity of my heart?"

"Mahoud, then," returned he, "is faithful?"

"He is," answered I, but with an unwilling heart.

"I doubt not," continued Bennaskar, "that my friend is amazed at the
scene he lately beheld. But ask no explanations: let thy mouth be ev