One Monday, as I was sitting in a merchant ‘s shop, whose name was Buddir ad Deen, a lady of quality, as might easily be perceived by her air, her apparel, and by a well-dressed slave attending her, came into the shop, and sat down by me.  Her external appearance, joined to a natural grace that shone in all her actions, prepossessed me in her favour, and inspired me with a desire to be better acquainted with her.  I know not whether she observed that I took pleasure in gazing on her, and whether this attention on my part was not agreeable to her; but she let down the crepe that hung over the muslin which covered her face, and gave me the opportunity of seeing her large black eyes; which perfectly charmed me.  In fine, she inflamed my love to the height by the agreeable sound of her voice, her graceful carriage in saluting the merchant, and asking him how he did since she had seen him last.

After conversing with him some time upon indifferent subjects, she gave him to understand that she wanted a particular kind of stuff with a gold ground; that she came to his shop, as affording the best choice of any in all the bazaar; and that if he had any such as she asked for, he would oblige her in showing them.  Buddir ad Deen produced several pieces, one of which she pitched upon, and he asked for it eleven hundred dirhems of silver.  “I will,” said she, “give you your price for it, but I have not money enough about me; so I hope you will give me credit till to-morrow, and in the mean time allow me to carry home the stuff.  I shall not fail,” added she, “to send you tomorrow the eleven hundred dirhems.”  “Madam,” said Buddir ad Deen, “I would give you credit with all my heart if the stuff were mine; but it belongs to the young man you see here, and this is the day on which we settle our accounts.”  “Why,” said the lady in surprise, “do you use me so?  Am not I a customer to your shop And when I have bought of you, and carried home the things without paying ready money for them, did I in any instance fail to send you your money next morning?” “Madam,” said the merchant, “all this is true, but this very day I have occasion for the money.”  “There,” said she, throwing the stuff to him, “take your stuff, I care not for you nor any of the merchants.  You are all alike; you respect no one.”  As she spoke, she rose up in anger, and walked out.

When I saw that the lady walked away, I felt interested on her behalf, and called her back, saying, “Madam, do me the favour to return, perhaps I can find a way to satisfy you both.”  She returned, saying, it was on my account that she complied.  “Buddir ad Deen,” said I to the merchant, “what is the price you must have for this stuff that belongs to me?” “I must have,” replied he, “eleven hundred dirhems, I cannot take less.”  “Give it to the lady then,” said I, “let her take it home with her; I allow a hundred dirhems profit to yourself, and shall now write you a note, empowering you to deduct that sum upon the produce