Pray do me the favour to tell me why you were so melancholy, and
how you came to be rid of it.
Upon this, the king of Tartary continued for some time as if he
had been in a dream, and contrived what he should answer; but at
last replied as follows: You are my sultan and master; but excuse
me, I beseech you, from answering your question. No, dear
brother, said the sultan, you must answer, I will take no denial.
Schahzenan, not being able to withstand these pressing instances,
answered, Well, then, brother, I will satisfy you, since you
command me; and, having told him the story of the queen of
Samarcande's treachery, this, says he, was the cause of my grief;
pray judge whether I had not reason enough to give myself up to
it.
Oh! my brother, says the sultan, (in a tone which showed that he
had the same sentiments of the matter with the king of Tartary,)
what a horrible story do you tell me! How impatient was I till I
heard it out! I commend you for punishing the traitors who put
such an outrage upon you. Nobody can blame you for that action:
it was just; and for my part, had the case been mine, I could
scarce have been so moderate as you, I should not have satisfied
myself with the life of one woman; I verily think I should have
sacrificed a thousand to my fury. I cease now to wonder at your
melancholy.
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