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Acota, muffled up to the eyes, and dressed in the garments of Mezrimbi, stepped forth, and the chief Brahmin, and all present, in pursuance to his order, prostrated themselves before Acota, with their foreheads in the dust. Acota took that opportunity of removing the shawl, and, when they rose up, stood by the throne, resplendent in his beauty and his pride.
The beauteous princess, as the minstrel finished, rose slowly and tremulously from her cushions, and taking the blossom of a nettle from her bosom, placed it in the hands of the happy Acota, saying, with a great deal of piety, "It is the will of Heaven." "But how was it possible for Acota to find out that the princess had a nettle blossom in her bosom?" interrupted the pacha.
Acota then stepped forward, and after a prelude, the beauty of which astonished all those around the queen's person, for they had no idea that he could play in tune, sang in a clear melodious voice the following stanzas: "Sweet, blushing cheek! the rose is there, Thy breath, the fragrance of its bowers; Lilies are on thy bosom fair, And e'en thy very words seem flowers.
Shortly after Acota had quitted the wood, the mutes returned, lifted the miserable Mezrimbi on their shoulders and carried him to the house of the chief Brahmin, who having ordered him to be guarded in an outhouse, said his prayers and went to bed.
Let us call these mutes, explain to them what we wish, and by to-morrow's sun the throne of Souffraria will fall to the race of Mezrimbi. Are we not of the purest blood of the plains, and is not Acota but a rayah of the mountains?"
The beauteous eyes of the princess first lighted upon the form of Mezrimbi, and she trembled, but the proud bearing of Acota reassured her, and waving her hand as she sat, she addressed the assembled youths as follows: "Faithful and gentle rayahs, impute it to no want of modesty that, for once, I sink the graceful bashfulness of the virgin, and assume the more forward deportment of the queen.
And when he had finished, the whole assembly hailed him as their king; and the population, whose heads paved, as it were, a space of ten square miles, cried out, "Long life to the king Acota, and his beautiful princess Babe-bi-bobu, the cream tart of delight!"
Acota," said the princess, opening upon him all the tenderness of her large and beaming eyes, "how weary am I of sitting on my cushion, and seeing fop after fop, fool after fool, dawdle down upon their faces before me; and, moreover, I am suffocated with perfumes. Strike your mandolin again louder, beloved of my soul still louder, that I may be further relieved of this unwished-for crowd."
"Amidst the cries of 'Long live Acota, Souffraria's legitimate king." "Legitimate. Pray, good Menouni, what may that word mean?" "Legitimate, your sublime highness, implies that a king and his descendants are chosen by Allah to reign over a people." "Well, but I don't see that Allah had much to do with the choice of Acota."
Next to Acota stood Mezrimbi, the son of the chief brahmin, and he, only, could be compared to Acota in personal beauty; but his character was known he was proud, overbearing, and cruel.
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