Schahriar, who expected to have found him in the same condition as he left him, was overjoyed to see him so cheerful, and spoke to him thus: Dear brother, I return thanks to Heaven for the happy change it has made on you during my absence; I am extremely rejoiced at it; but I have a request to make to you, and conjure you not to deny me. I can refuse you nothing, replies the king of Tartary; you may command Schahzenan as you please; pray speak, I am impatient to know what you desire of me. Ever since you came to my court, replies Schahriar, I found you swallowed up by a deep melancholy, and I did in vain attempt to remove it by diversions of all sorts. I imagined it might be occasioned by reason of the distance from your dominions, or that love might have a great share in it; and that the queen of Samarcande, who, no doubt, is an accomplished beauty, might be the cause of it. I do not know if I be mistaken; but I must own that this was the peculiar reason why I did not importune you upon the subject, for fear of making you uneasy. But, without my being able to contribute any thing towards it, I find now, upon my return, that you are in the best humour that can be, and that your mind is entirely delivered from that black vapour which disturbed it. Pray do me the favour to tell me why you were so melancholy, and how you came to be rid of it. Upon this, the king of Tartary continued for some time as if he had been in a dream, and contrived what he should answer; but at last replied as follows: You are my sultan and master; but excuse me, I beseech you, from answering your question. No, dear brother, said the sultan, you must answer, I will take no denial. Schahzenan, not being able to withstand these pressing instances, answered, Well, then, brother, I will satisfy you, since you command me; and, having told him the story of the queen of Samarcande's treachery, this, says he, was the cause of my grief; pray judge whether I had not reason enough to give myself up to it.