The sultan, being affected with these pitiful complaints, rose up, and made toward the place where he heard the voice; and when he came to the gate of a great hall, he opened it, and saw a handsome young man, richly habited, set upon a throne raised a little above the ground. Melancholy was painted on his looks. The sultan drew near and saluted him; the young man returned him his salute, by a low bow with his head; but not being able to rise up, he said to the sultan, My lord, I am very well satisfied that you deserve I should rise up to receive you, and do you all possible honour; but I am hindered from doing so, by a very sad reason, and therefore hope you will not take it ill. My lord, replies the sultan, I am very much obliged to you for having so good an opinion of me; as to the reason of your not rising, whatever your apology be, I heartily accept it. Being drawn hither by your complaints, and afflicted by your grief, I come to offer you my help; would to God that it lay in my power to ease you of your trouble; I would do my utmost to effect it. I flatter myself that you would willingly tell me the history of your misfortunes; but pray tell me first the meaning of the pond near the palace, where the fishes are of four colours? what this castle is? how you came to be here? and why you are alone? Instead of answering these questions, the young man began to weep bitterly. How inconstant is fortune! cried he: she takes pleasure to pull down those she had raised up. Where are they who enjoy quietly the happiness which they hold of her, and whose day is always clear and serene? The sultan, moved with compassion to see him in that condition, prayed him forthwith to tell him the cause of his excessive grief. Alas! my lord, replies the young man, how is it possible but I should grieve, and my eyes be inexhaustible fountains of tears? At these words, lifting up his gown, he shewed the sultan that he was a man only from the head to the girdle, and that the other half of his body was black marble. Here Scheherazade broke off and told the sultan that day appeared. Schahriar was so much charmed with the story, and became so much in love with Scheherazade, that he resolved to let her live a month. He rose, however, as usual, without acquainting her with his resolution. TWENTY-SECOND NIGHT. Dinarzade was so impatient to hear out the story, that she called her sister next morning sooner than usual, and said to her, sister, pray continue the wonderful story you began, but could not make an end of yesterday morning. I agree to it, replies the sultaness; hearken, then: