The Twenty-sixth Night. As soon as Dinarzade thought it was time to call the sultaness, she says to her, How much should I be obliged to you, dear sister, if you would tell us what passed in the Palace of Tears. Schahriar having signified that he was as curious to know it as Dinarzade, the sultaness resumed the story of the young enchanted prince as follows: Sir, after the enchantress had given the king her husband an hundred blows with bull pizzles, she put on again his covering of goat hair, and his brocade gown over all; she went afterwards to the Palace of Tears, and, as she entered the same, she renewed her tears and lamentations; then approaching the bed, where she thought her gallant was, What cruelty, cries she, was it to disturb the contentment of so tender and passionate a lover as I am! O thou who reproachest me that I am too inhuman, when I make thee feel the effects of my resentment! cruel prince! does not thy barbarity surpass my vengeance? Ah, traitor! in attempting the life of the object whom I adore, hast thou not robbed me of mine? Alas! says she, addressing herself to the sultan, while she thought she spoke to the black, my soul, my life, will you always be silent? Are you resolved to let me die, without giving me so much comfort as to tell me that you love me? My soul! speak one word to me at least, I conjure you. The sultan, making as if he had awakened out of a deep sleep, and counterfeiting the language of the blacks, answers the queen with a grave tone, 'There is no force nor power but in God alone, who is almighty.' At these words, the enchantress, who did not expect them, gave a great shout, to signify her excessive joy. My dear lord, says she, do not I deceive myself? is it certain that I hear you, and that you speak to me? Unhappy wretch, said the sultan, art thou worthy that I should answer thy discourse? Alas! replies the queen, why do you reproach me thus? The cries, replied he, the groans and tears of thy husband, whom thou treatest every day with so much indignity and barbarity, hinder me to sleep night and day. I should have been cured long ago, and have recovered the use of my speech, hadst thou disenchanted him. This is the cause of my silence, which you complain of. Very well, says the enchantress, to pacify you, I am ready to do what you will command me; would you that I restore him as he was? Yes, replies the sultan, make haste to set him at liberty, that I be no more disturbed with his cries.