She replied, ’’Tis even so, eyes of mine, my betrothed! but thou know’st not Shagpat, and that he is.  Lo! the King, and all of this city save we three, are held in enchantment by him, and made foolish by one hair that’s in his head.’

Shibli Bagarag started in his seat like one that shineth with a discovery, and cried, ‘The Identical!’

Then she, sighing, ’’Tis that indeed! but the Identical of Identicals, the chief and head of them, and I, woe’s me!  I, the planter of it.’

So he said, ‘How so?’

But she cried, ’I’ll tell thee not here, nor aught of myself and him, and the Genie held in bondage by me, till thou art proved by adventure, and we float peacefully on the sea of the Bright Lily:  there shalt thou see me as I am, and hear my story, and marvel at it; for ’tis wondrous, and a manifestation of the Power that dwelleth unseen.’

So Shibli Bagarag pondered awhile on the strange nature of the things she hinted, and laughter seized him as he reflected on Shagpat, and the whole city enchanted by one hair in his head; and he exclaimed, ’O Noorna, knoweth he, Shagpat, of the might in him?’

She answered, ’Enough for his vain soul that homage is paid to him, and he careth not for the wherefore!’

Shibli Bagarag fixed his eyes on the deep-flowered carpets of the floor, as if reading there a matter quaintly written, and smiled, saying, ’What boldness was mine—­the making offer to shear Shagpat, the lion in his lair, he that holdeth a whole city in enchantment!  Wah! ’twas an instance of daring!’

And Noorna said, ’Not only an entire city, but other cities affected by him, as witness Oolb, whither thou wilt go; and there be governments and states, and conditions of men remote, that hang upon him, Shagpat.  ’Tis even so; I swell not his size.  When thou hast mastered the Event, and sent him forth shivering from thy blade like the shorn lamb, ’twill be known how great a thing has been achieved, and a record for the generations to come; choice is that historian destined to record it!’

Quoth he, looking eagerly at her, ’O Noorna, what is it in thy speech affecteth me?  Surely it infuseth the vigour of wine, old wine; and I shiver with desire to shave Shagpat, and spin threads for the historian to weave in order.  I, wullahy! had but dry visions of the greatness destined for me till now, my betrothed!  Shall I master an Event in shaving him, and be told of to future ages?  By Allah and his Prophet (praise be to that name!), this is greatness!  Say, Noorna, hadst thou foreknowledge of me and my coming to this city?’