off his state robe and put on his sword, and when he
saw all was quiet in the camp he set forth alone.

He climbed one of the hills, and then crossed the great plain, till,
just as the sun rose, he beheld far in front of him a large building.
When he came near to it he saw it was a splendid palace of beautiful
black polished marble, covered with steel as smooth as a mirror.

He went to the gate, which stood half open, and went in, as nobody came
when he knocked. He passed through a magnificent courtyard and still
saw no one, though he called aloud several times.

He entered large halls where the carpets were of silk, the lounges and
sofas covered with tapestry from Mecca, and the hangings of the most
beautiful Indian stuffs of gold and silver. Then he found himself in a
splendid room, with a fountain supported by golden lions. The water
out of the lions' mouths turned into diamonds and pearls, and the
leaping water almost touched a most beautifully-painted dome. The
palace was surrounded on three sides by magnificent gardens, little
lakes, and woods. Birds sang in the trees, which were netted over to
keep them always there.

Still the Sultan saw no one, till he heard a plaintive cry, and a voice
which said, "Oh that I could die, for I am too unhappy to wish to live
any longer!"

The Sultan looked round to discover who it was who thus bemoaned his
fate, and at last saw a handsome young man, richly clothed, who was
sitting on a throne raised slightly from the ground. His face was very
sad.

The sultan approached him and bowed to him. The young man bent his
head very low, but did not rise.

"Sire," he said to the Sultan, "I cannot rise and do you the reverence
that I am sure should be paid to your rank."

"Sir," answered the Sultan, "I am sure you have a good reason for not
doing so, and having heard your cry of distress, I am come to offer you
my help. Whose is this palace, and why is it thus empty?"

Instead of answering the young man lifted up his robe, and showed the
Sultan that, from the waist downwards, he was a block of black marble.

The Sultan was horrified, and begged the young man to tell him his
story.

"Willingly I will tell you my sad history," said the young man.

The Story of the Young King of the Black Isles

You must know, sire, that my father was Mahmoud, the king of this
country, the Black Isles, so called from the four little mountains
which were once islands, while the ca