eenth year, they still detained him in the
harem; his dancing was light as the gossamer waved by the zephyrs of
spring, but his arms, which twined so gracefully with those of the young
girls in the dance, could neither dart the lance in the chase, nor curb
the steeds that pastured his uncle's domains. The bow, however, he drew
with a certain aim, and would have excelled his competitors in the race,
could he have broken the ties that bound him to Nouronihar.

The two brothers had mutually engaged their children to each other, and
Nouronihar loved her cousin more than her eyes; both had the same tastes
and amusements, the same long, languishing looks, the same tresses, the
same fair complexions, and when Gulchenrouz appeared in the dress of his
cousin he seemed to be more feminine than even herself. If at any time
he left the harem to visit Fakreddin, it was with all the bashfulness of
a fawn, that consciously ventures from the lair of its dam; he was
however, wanton enough to mock the solemn old grey-beards to whom he was
subject, though sure to be rated without mercy in return; whenever this
happened he would plunge into the recesses of the harem, and sobbing,
take refuge in the arms of Nouronihar, who loved even his faults beyond
the virtues of others.

It fell out this evening that, after leaving the Caliph in the meadow,
she ran with Gulchenrouz over the green sward of the mountain that
sheltered the vale where Fakreddin had chosen to reside. The sun was
dilated on the edge of the horizon; and the young people, whose fancies
were lively and inventive, imagined they beheld in the gorgeous clouds of
the west the domes of Shadukiam and Amberabad, where the Peris have fixed
their abode. Nouronihar, sitting on the slope of the hill, supported on
her knees the perfumed head of Gulchenrouz; the air was calm, and no
sound stirred but the voices of other young girls, who were drawing cool
water from the streams below. The unexpected arrival of the Caliph, and
the splendour that marked his appearance, had already filled with emotion
the ardent soul of Nouronihar; her vanity irresistibly prompted her to
pique the prince's attention, and this she before took good care to
effect whilst he picked up the jasmine she had thrown upon him. But when
Gulchenrouz asked after the flowers he had culled for her bosom,
Nouronihar was all in confusion; she hastily kissed his forehead, arose
in a flutter, and walked with unequal steps on