Rustem awoke and called his steed, but no answering neigh rang out the glad reply. Long he searched, but searched in vain. He knew that Rakush had not willingly strayed away, and indignantly he traced his steps to Samenegān, the capital of Tūrān, for the broad track of his horse led that way. As he approached the shining turrets of the city he met the king with all his court, anxious to do honor to the distinguished guest. But Rustem haughtily refused the proffered friendship until his horse should be restored. “Ive traced his footsteps to your royal town. Here must he be, protected by your crown. But if retained—if not from fetters freed, My vengeance shall o’ertake the felon deed.” “My honored guest,” the wondering king replied, “Shall Rustem’s wants or wishes be denied? If still within the limits of my reign, The well-known courser shall be thine again. For Rakush never can remain concealed No more than Rustem on the battle-field.” Then again he urged his royal hospitality upon the Persian hero, as he sent out men to look for the horse. Pacified with the royal promise of restoration, Rustem accepted the hospitality of the king. Soon “The ready herald by the king’s command, Convened the chiefs and warriors of the land, And soon the banquet social glee restored, And china wine cups glittered on the board; And cheerful song, and music’s matchless power, And sparkling wine beguiled the festive hour.” When the royal banquet was over a magnificent couch was prepared for the great chieftain, and in the perfumed bed the weary traveler slept soundly. One watch of the night had already passed when Rustem was awakened by a light in his room, and there before his astonished eyes stood the peerless daughter of the Tartar king in all her wondrous beauty. She stood with frightened look, the rich color flushing her olive cheeks, her dark eyes beaming beneath the splendid lashes, and her mouth, flower-soft and sensitive, seemed moulded for an expectant kiss. Her black ringlets were snares[256] for a warrior’s heart. Her graceful hands were perfectly formed and stained with henna upon the dainty palms. But she was fully robed, and she, the daughter of the king, had not come alone into the room of this stranger guest—her faithful maid stood beside her, and bore the taper from which a soft radiance filled all the room. The astonished warrior asked what stranger this, and why she had broken upon his rest. “What is thy name?” he said. “Fair vision, speak!” Then from the mouth of rose and pearl there fell the accents of sweetest music: