Shortly after Amina entered carrying a seat, which she put down in the middle of the empty space.  She next went over to the door of a closet and signed to the porter to follow her.  He did so, and soon reappeared leading two black dogs by a chain, which he brought into the centre of the hall.  Zobeida then got up from her seat between the Calenders and the Caliph and walked slowly across to where the porter stood with the dogs.  “We must do our duty,” she said with a deep sigh, pushing back her sleeves, and, taking a whip from Sadie, she said to the man, “Take one of those dogs to my sister Amina and give me the other.”

The porter did as he was bid, but as he led the dog to Zobeida it uttered piercing howls, and gazed up at her with looks of entreaty.  But Zobeida took no notice, and whipped the dog till she was out of breath.  She then took the chain from the porter, and, raising the dog on its hind legs, they looked into each other’s eyes sorrowfully till tears began to fall from both.  Then Zobeida took her handkerchief and wiped the dog’s eyes tenderly, after which she kissed it, then, putting the chain into the porter’s hand she said, “Take it back to the closet and bring me the other.”

The same ceremony was gone through with the second dog, and all the while the whole company looked on with astonishment.  The Caliph in particular could hardly contain himself, and made signs to the vizir to ask what it all meant.  But the vizir pretended not to see, and turned his head away.

Zobeida remained for some time in the middle of the room, till at last Sadie went up to her and begged her to sit down, as she also had her part to play.  At these words Amina fetched a lute from a case of yellow satin and gave it to Sadie, who sang several songs to its accompaniment.  When she was tired she said to Amina, “My sister, I can do no more; come, I pray you, and take my place.”

Amina struck a few chords and then broke into a song, which she sang with so much ardour that she was quite overcome, and sank gasping on a pile of cushions, tearing open her dress as she did so to give herself some air.  To the amazement of all present, her neck, instead of being as smooth and white as her face, was a mass of scars.

The Calenders and the Caliph looked at each other, and whispered together, unheard by Zobeida and Sadie, who were tending their fainting sister.

“What does it all mean?’ asked the Caliph.

“We know no more than you,” said the Calender to whom he had spoken.

“What!  You do not belong to the house?”

“My lord,” answered all the Calenders together, “we came here for the first time an hour before you.”