"Why give way," said Chuang-tsze, "to all this passionate outcry? Be candid--you are young, and extremely beautiful--should I die, this day--do you pretend, that, with your attractions, you would suffer much time to be lost, before you accepted the services of another husband?" "Good God," cried the lady, "how you talk! Who ever heard of a truly faithful wuzzeer, that, after the death of his master, served another prince? A widow _indeed_ never accepts a second partner. Did you ever know a case, in which such a wife as I have been--a woman of my qualities and station, after having lost her tenderly beloved, forsook his memory, and gave herself to the embraces of a second husband! Such an act, in my opinion, would be infamous. Should you be taken from me, today, be assured, that I should follow you, with my imperishable love, and die, at last, your disconsolate widow." "It is easy to promise, but not always so easy to perform," replied the philosopher. At this speech, the lady was exasperated--"I would have you to know," said she, "that women are to be found, without much inquiry, quite as noble-hearted and constant, as _you_ have ever been. What a pattern of constancy you have been! Dear me! Only think of it! When your first wife died, you soon repaired your loss: and, becoming weary of your second, you obtained a divorce from her, and then married me! What a constant creature you have been! No wonder you think so lightly of women!" Saying this, she snatched the fan out of her husband's hand, and tore it into innumerable pieces; by which act she appeared to have obtained very considerable relief; and, in a somewhat gentler tone, she told her husband, that he was in excellent health, and likely to live, for very many years; and that she could not, for the soul of her, see what could induce him to torment her to death, by talking in this manner. "Compose yourself, my dear," said Chuang-tsze, "I confess that your indignation delights me. I rejoice to see you exhibit so much feeling and fire, upon such a theme." The wife of the philosopher recovered her composure; and their conversation turned upon ordinary affairs. Before many days, Chuang-tsze became suddenly and severely attacked, by some unaccountable disease. The symptoms No. CXX. Let us continue the story of Chuang-tsze, the great master of magic. Before many days, as I have stated, Chuang-tsze became suddenly and severely attacked, by some unaccountable disease. The symptoms were full of evil. His devoted wife was ever near her sick husband, sobbing bitterly, and bathing him in tears. "It is but too plain," said the philosopher, "that I cannot survive--I am upon the bed of death--this very night, perhaps--at farthest, tomorrow--we shall part forever--what a pity, that you should have destroyed that fan--it would have answered so well, for the purpose of drying the earth upon my tomb!"