Then Zobeide, rising from her seat between the calenders and the
caliph, marched very gravely towards the porter, Come on, says
she, with a great sigh, let us perform our duty; then tucking up
her sleeves above her elbows, and receiving a rod from Safie,
Porter, said she, deliver one of the bitches to my sister Amine,
and come to me with the other.
The porter did as he was commanded; the bitch that he held in his
hand began to cry, and, turning towards Zobeide, held her head up
in a begging posture; but Zobeide, having no regard to the sad
countenance of the bitch, which would have moved pity, nor her
cries that sounded through ail the house, whipped her with the
rod till she was out of breath; and having spent her strength
that she could strike no more, she threw down the rod, and,
taking the chain from the porter, lifted up the bitch by her
paws, and looking upon her with a sad and pitiful countenance,
they both wept; after which Zobeide, with her handkerchief, wiped
the tears from the bitch's eyes, kissed her, returned the chain
to the porter, bid him carry her to the place whence he took her,
and bring her the other. The porter led back the whipped bitch to
the closet, and receiving the other from Amine, presented her to
Zobeide, who, bidding the porter hold her as he had done the
first, took up the rod, and treated her after the same manner;
and when she had wept over her, dried her eyes, and, kissing her,
returned her to the porter; but lovely Amine spared him the
trouble of leading her back into the closet, and did it herself.
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