The porter answered immediately, "Madam, these gentlemen beseech you to inform them why you wept over your two bitches after you had whipped them so severely, and how the bosom of that lady who lately fainted away came to be so full of scars? These are the questions I am ordered to ask in their name." At these words, Zobeide put on a stern countenance, and turning towards the caliph and the rest of the company, "Is it true, gentlemen," said she, "that you desired him to ask me these questions?" All of them, except the vizier Jaaffier, who spoke not a word, answered, "Yes." On which she exclaimed, in a tone that sufficiently expressed her resentment, "Before we granted you the favour of receiving you into our house, and to prevent all occasion of trouble from you, because we are alone, we imposed the condition that you should not speak of any thing that did not concern you, lest you might hear that which would not please you; and yet after having received and entertained you, you make no scruple to break your promise. It is true that our easy temper has occasioned this, but that shall not excuse your rudeness." As she spoke these words, she gave three stamps with her foot, and clapping her hands as often together, cried, "Come quickly:" upon this, a door flew open, and seven black slaves rushed in; every one seized a man, threw him on the ground, and dragged him into the middle of the room, brandishing a cimeter over his head. We may easily conceive the caliph then repented, but too late, that he had not taken the advice of his vizier, who, with Mesrour, the calenders and porter, was from his ill-timed curiosity on the point of forfeiting his life. Before they would strike the fatal blow, one of the slaves said to Zobeide, and her sisters: "High, mighty, and adorable mistresses, do you command us to strike off their heads?" "Stay," said Zobeide, "I must examine them first." The frightened porter interrupted her thus: "In the name of heaven, do not put me to death for another man's crime. I am innocent; they are to blame." "Alas!" said he, weeping, "how pleasantly did we pass our time! those blind calenders are the cause of this misfortune; there is no town in the world but suffers wherever these inauspicious fellows come. Madam, I beg you not to destroy the innocent with the guilty, and consider, that it is more glorious to pardon such a wretch as I am, who have no way to help myself, than to sacrifice me to your resentment." Zobeide, notwithstanding her anger, could not but laugh within herself at the porter's lamentation: but without replying to him, she spoke a second time to the rest; "Answer me, and say who you are, otherwise you shall not live one moment longer: I cannot believe you to be honest men, or persons of authority or distinction in your own countries; for if you were, you would have been more modest and more respectful to us."