scovered a village.

"Sit down here," said Abosaber to his wife; "I will go to seek a
lodging and some clothes to cover us."

Saying this, he went away, taking the road to the village, from which
they were not far distant.

Scarcely was Abosaber out of sight when a gentleman passing near her
stopped in astonishment at seeing a most beautiful woman plundered and
abandoned thus in a solitary road. He put several questions to her,
which this singular adventure might seem to authorize, and she
answered them with sufficient spirit. These replies increased the
fancy of the young man.

"Madam," said he to her, "you seem formed to enjoy a happier lot, and
if you will accept of that which I will prepare for you, follow me,
and, together with my heart and hand, I offer you a situation that
deserves to be envied."

"I have a husband," replied the lady, "to whom, unfortunate as he is,
I am bound for life."

"I have no time," replied the gentleman, "to convince you of the
folly of a refusal in your situation. I love you. Mount my horse
without reply, or with one stroke of my scimitar I will terminate both
your misfortunes and your life."

The wife of Abosaber, forced to yield, before she departed wrote these
words upon the sand: "Abosaber, your patience hath cost you your
fortune, your children, and your wife, who is carried off from you.
Heaven grant that it may not prove still more fatal to you!"

While she traced these words, the gentleman quitted his horse's
bridle, and when everything was ready, he seized his prey and
disappeared.

Abosaber, on his return, sought for his spouse, and called upon her in
vain. He demanded her of all nature, but nature was silent. He cast
his eyes upon the ground, and there learned his misfortune. He could
not restrain the first accents of grief: he tore his hair, rent his
breast, and bruised himself with strokes. But soon becoming quiet,
after all this agitation,

"Have patience, Abosaber!" said he to himself; "thou lovest thy wife,
and art beloved by her. Allah hath undoubtedly suffered her to fall
into the situation in which she is in order to snatch her from more
dreadful evils. Does it become thee to search into the secrets of
Providence? It is thy part to submit, and also to cease from fatiguing
and offending Heaven by thy cries and thy complaints."

These reflections completely restored his tranquillity, and abandoning
the design he had of returning to the village from which h