everything else was waste of time, a kind of
malady of existence. The arts of government
and the duties of power he exercised only in
obedience to the will of God; and perhaps
he was a good King because nothing that his
station could give him he considered to be
worth having. "They say, my friends,"
quoth the philosophical narrator, "that
Ibrahim the Cruel, when he came to decide
on the differences between poor peasants, was
the best judge that ever existed, because he
had no interest to serve on one side or the
other." However this may be, it seemed
certain that King Zakariah was naturally
endowed with all good qualities save one—
the wisdom of the bee which settles on the
flowers it finds on its flight, and is content
with the honey it finds.

The King used often to sit at his mother's
feet and talk to her of his sad case. She was
a wise woman and understood what he meant.
Her advice was, that after the hour of sunset,
when the King was supposed to have retired
to rest, he should disguise himself and go
forth, like the famous Haroun-el-Rashed, and
seek adventures in the city. For fear,
however, that danger should befall him, she
required that he should conceal the true
purpose of his wanderings, and pretend simply to
be anxious to see that justice was duly
administered, and that he should take as
companions Mansour, the chief eunuch of the
palace, and Kaad, a faithful servant. It is
true that in conniving at these nocturnal
strolls, the Queen Zibeydeh did not expect
that her son would find what he desired;
for, being old, whilst she understood the
longings of youth, she disbelieved in their
accomplishment.

It became, accordingly, a common thing
for Mansour, who pretended to be a merchant
from Abyssinia, with two attendants, to
visit the various quarters of the city, and
encounter all manner of adventures. One
night, the King, walking a little in advance
of his companions down a dark narrow street,
in the northern part of the city, where the
Christians inhabited, was arrested in his
progress by hearing the voice of lamentation.
He paused to listen, and made out the following
words:—"Oh! my master, Naomi, when
wilt thou return? What have I done that I
should be left alone with my own heart full of
wild fancies and desires? My life is incomplete.
I am like a lake which has no heaven to
reflect, like a bird singing after its nest has been
spoiled, like a mother rocking an empty
cradle, like a saint praying in a world where
there is no God! I rise in the morning, and
daylight seems horrid to me; the night
approaches, and darkness becomes full of terrors.
There is nothing delightful to my mind in
thy absence—silence is no longer sweet, and
the murmuring of nature wearies me. Come
back, Naomi, from the far country whither
thou hast gone, or thou wilt come back only
to weep over my tomb."

When King Zakariah heard this song, he
said to himself, "Evidently the case of this
maiden is as mine own. Her Naomi is an
unreal personage, for it is impossible that the
love she describes can really exist in the
world." He listened some time longer, but
the house from which the sound had come
had returned to silence; so he proceeded, and
having wandered some hours through the
city, went back to his palace more sad in
heart than he had ever been in his life.

Mansour had noticed the attention which
the King had paid to the song of the unknown
maiden, and thinking that he might wish to
exercise his power in order to behold her, had
marked the wall of the house with a piece of
chalk. When day came, therefore, he sent Kaad
to ascertain who the maiden might be, what
were her parents, and what was her story.
The faithful servant diligently performed his
task, and brought a full report to the eunuch.
The maiden's name, he said, was Salameh,
and she was the daughter of a Copt, one of
the principal accountants of the King's
treasury. Of Naomi, however, no news could be
learned from the neighbours, who said that
Salameh had reached the marriageable age,
but that her father had not yet thought of
choosing a husband for her from among the
people of his race. "Verily," thought
Mansour, "this is a piece of great good fortune.
Our master will love this maiden, and will
seize her and indemnify her father, and make
her his companion, and dismiss his melancholy,
and gladden the hearts of his people."
The worthy man rubbed his hands, believing
that he had found a great combination.

Next night, the King went out again with
his usual companions, and proceeded straight
towards the quarter where he had heard the
song of Salameh. He did not know that the
interest the maiden had aroused in him had
been noticed by any one; so that he amused
Mansour with various shallow reasons which
he gave why on two succeeding nights he
wandered in the same direction. The house
this time was silent, and a certain feeling of
jealousy visited the King, because he thought
that Naomi might have returned. In his
excitement he exclaimed aloud, "Woe be to
him who treadeth on the path I have chosen!"
This was the first time that he understood
what had taken place within him. He had
believed until then that the sentiment which
this invisible maiden had aroused was simply
one of compassion or curiosity. He now
found that she had taken possession of his
soul, that without having seen he had
invested her with all manner of beauty, of
loveliness, and grace, that he had set her apart
for himself, and that the first enemy that had
ever crossed his life was that mysterious
Naomi. Mansour, noticing his trouble,
thought this was a good opportunity to speak,
and said, "The maiden of the song is called
Salameh, and she is the daughter of thy
accountant, Gerges, who happens now to be