burst into tears.  The gardener replied, “There was no possibility of his going thither by land, the ways were so difficult, and the journey so long; besides, there was no accommodation for his subsistence; or, if there were, he must necessarily pass through the countries of so many barbarous nations, that he would never reach his father’s.  It was a year’s journey from the city where he then was to any country inhabited only by Moosulmauns; that the quickest passage for him would be to go to the isle of Ebene, whence he might easily transport himself to the isles of the children of Khaledan; that a ship sailed from the port every year to Ebene, and he might take that opportunity of returning to those islands.  “The ship departed,” said he, “but a few days ago; if you had come a little sooner, you might have taken your passage in it.  You must wait till it makes the voyage again, and if you will stay with me and accept of my house, such as it is, you shall be as welcome to it as to your own.”

The prince was glad he had met with such an asylum, in a place where he had no acquaintance.  He accepted the offer, and lived with the gardener till the time arrived that the ship was to sail to the isle of Ebene.  He spent the interval in working by day in the garden, and passing the night in sighs, tears, and complaints, thinking of his dear princess Badoura.  We must leave him in this place, to return to the princess, whom we left asleep in her tent.

The princess slept a long time, and when she awoke, wondered that the prince was not with her; she called her women, and asked if they knew where he was.  They told her they saw him enter the tent, but did not see him go out.  While they were talking to her, she took up her girdle, found her little purse open, and that the talisman was gone.  She did not doubt but that the prince had taken it to see what it was, and that he would bring it back with him.  She waited for him impatiently till night, and could not imagine what made him stay away from her so long.

When it was quite dark, and she could hear no tidings of him, she fell into violent grief:  she cursed the talisman, and him that made it; and, had not she been restrained by duty, would have cursed the queen her mother, who had given her such a fatal present.  She was the more troubled, because she could not imagine how her talisman should have caused the prince’s separation from her; she did not however lose her judgment, and came to a courageous resolution, not common with persons of her sex.

Only herself and her women knew of the prince’s absence; for his men were reposing or asleep in their tents.  The princess, fearing they would betray her, if they had any knowledge of this circumstance, moderated her grief, and forbade her women to say or do any thing that might create the least suspicion.  She then laid aside her own habit, and put on one of Kummir al Zummaun’s.  She was so much like him, that the next day, when she came abroad, the male attendants took her for the prince.