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"Devout adorers of fire," said he to them, "this is a happy day for us; where is Gazban? call him." He spake these words aloud, when a negro who waited at the lower end of the hall immediately came up to him. This black was Gazban, who, as soon as he saw the disconsolate Assad, imagined for what purpose he was called.
He trembled at the sight of this unmerciful wretch, and at the very thoughts of the sufferings he was to endure for another year, at the conclusion of which he was to die the most horrible death. Bostama treated prince Assad as inhumanly as she had done during his first confinement.
"Since you are clerk to the captain," said she, "no doubt you can write well; let me see your hand." Behram had furnished Assad with pen, ink, and paper, as a token of his office, that the queen might take him for what he designed she should.
She was walking in her garden, and gave him to understand that she waited for him. Behram, who knew he would be sent for, landed with prince Assad, whom he required to confirm what he had said of his being a slave, and his clerk. So he went to the palace garden, and was introduced to the queen.
The old man looked on prince Assad, smiling: Child, said he, it is plain you are a stranger, or you would not have asked that question. Yes, my lord, I am a stranger, replied Assad. The old man answered, you are welcome then; our country will be honoured by the presence of so handsome a young man as you are: Tell me what business you have at the market-place?
I can assure you some of them are very wicked. Come, you shall see the difference between a real honest man, as I am, and such as boast of being so, and are not." "I am infinitely obliged to you," replied Assad, "for your kindness; I put myself entirely into your hands, and am ready to go with you where you please."
He loaded it with proper merchandize; and when it was ready to sail, put Assad in a chest, which was half full of goods, a few crevices being left between the boards to give him air.
At length they arrived at the residence of the old man, who introduced Assad into a hall, where there were forty such old fellows as himself, who made a circle round a flaming fire, which they were adoring.
He was neatly dressed, and the prince took him for a man of note in the place, who would not put a trick upon him, so he accosted him thus: "Pray, my lord, which is the way to the market-place?" The old man looked at prince Assad smiling; "Child," said he, "it is plain you are a stranger, or you would not have asked that question." "Yes, my lord, I am a stranger," replied Assad.
He ran immediately to the apartment of his mother queen Haiatalnefous, with the letter in his hand: he would have shewn it to her, but she did not give him time, crying out, "I know what you mean; you are as impertinent as your brother Amgiad: be gone, and never come into my presence again." Assad stood as one thunder-struck at these words, so little expected.
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