" Then she
tucked up her sleeves from her wrists and struck the floor thrice with
her hand, crying, "Come ye quickly!" And lo! a closet door opened
and out of it came seven Negro slaves with drawn swords in hand, to
whom she said, "Pinion me those praters' elbows and bind them each
to each." They did her bidding and asked her: "O veiled and
virtuous! Is it thy high command that we strike off their heads?"
But she answered, "Leave them awhile that I question them of their
condition before their necks feel the sword." "By Allah, O my lady!"
cried the porter, "slay me not for other's sin. All these men offended
and deserve the penalty of crime save myself. Now, by Allah, our night
had been charming had we escaped the mortification of those
monocular Kalandars whose entrance into a populous city would
convert it into a howling wilderness." Then he repeated these verses:
"How fair is ruth the strong man deigns not smother!
And fairest fair when shown to weakest brother.
By Love's own holy tie between us twain,
Let one not suffer for the sin of other."
When the porter ended his verse, the lady laughed despite her wrath,
and came up to the party and spake thus: "Tell me who ye be, for ye
have but an hour of life.
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