The Arabian Nights [229]
The women, who were sitting before she came resumed their places, with the permission of Schemselnihar, who ordered them by a sign; that charming favourite chose one of those women to sing, who, after she had spent some moments in tuning her lute, sung a song, the meaning whereof was, that when two lovers entirely loved one another with affection boundless, their hearts, though in two bodies, were united; and, when any thing opposed their desires, could say with tears in their eyes, "If we love because we find one another amiable, ought we to be blamed? Let destiny bear the blame."
Schemselnihar evinced so plainly by her eyes and gestures that those words were applicable to herself and the prince of Persia, that he could not contain himself. He arose, and advancing to a balustrade, which he leaned upon, beckoned to one of the companions of the woman who had just done singing, to approach. When she had got near enough, he said to her, "Do me the favour to accompany me with your lute, in a song which you shall hear me sing." He then sung with an air so tender and passionate, as perfectly expressed the violence of his love. As soon as he had done, Schemselnihar, following his example, said to one of the women, "Attend to me likewise, and accompany my song." At the same time she sung in such a manner, as more deeply to penetrate the heart of the prince of Persia, who answered her by a new air, more passionate than the former.
The two lovers having declared their mutual affection by their songs, Schemselnihar yielded to the force of hers. She arose from her throne in transport, and advanced towards the door of the hall. The prince, who perceived her design, rose up immediately, and went to meet her. They met at the door, where they took one another by the hand, and embraced with so much passion, that they fainted, and would have fallen, if the woman who followed Schemselnihar had not hindered them. They supported them to a sofa, where they were brought to themselves, by throwing odoriferous water on their faces, and applying pungent odours to their nostrils.
When they had recovered, the first thing Schemselnihar did was to look about: and not seeing Ebn Thaher, she asked, with eagerness, where he was? He had withdrawn out of respect whilst her women were engaged in recovering her, and dreaded, not without reason, that some disagreeable consequence might follow what he had seen; but as soon as he heard Schemselnihar inquire for him, he came forward.
Schemselnihar was much pleased to see Ebn Thaher, and expressed her joy in the most obliging terms: "Ebn Thaher, I know not how to make you proper returns for the great obligations you have put upon me; without you, I should never have seen the prince of Persia, nor have loved the most amiable person in the world. Assure yourself I shall not die ungrateful, and that my gratitude, if possible, shall be equal to the obligation." Ebn Thaher answered this compliment by a low obeisance, and wished the favourite the accomplishment of all her desires.
Schemselnihar, turning towards the prince of Persia, who sat by her, and looking upon him with some confusion after what had passed, said to him, "I am well assured you love me, and how great soever your love may be to me, you need not doubt but mine is as great towards you: but let us not flatter ourselves; for, notwithstanding this conformity of our sentiments, I see nothing for you and me but trouble, impatience, and tormenting grief. There is no other remedy for our evils but to love one another constantly, to refer ourselves to the disposal of Heaven, and to wait its determination of our destiny." "Madam," replied the prince of Persia, "you will do me the greatest injustice, if you doubt for a moment the continuance of my love. It is so interwoven with my soul, that I can justly say it makes the best part of it, and will continue so after death. Pains, torments, obstacles, nothing shall prevent my loving you." Speaking these words he shed tears in abundance, and Schemselnihar was not able to restrain