Zobeidè, in spite of her anger, could not help laughing inwardly at the lamentations of the porter. But without paying any attention to him, she addressed herself again to the others. “Answer me,” said she, “and tell me who you are, if not, you have only an instant to live. I cannot believe that you are honourable men, or persons of authority or distinction in whatever country you call your own. If that had been the case, you would have paid more attention and more respect to us.” The caliph, being naturally impatient, suffered infinitely more than the rest at finding his life depended upon the commands of an offended and justly irritated woman; but he began to conceive there were some hopes when he found, that she wished to know who they all were; as he imagined she would by no means take away his life, when she should be informed of his rank. It was for this reason that he whispered to his vizier, who was near him, instantly to declare who he was. But this wise and prudent minister, wishing to preserve the honour of his master, and being unwilling to make public the great affront he had brought upon himself, answered, “We suffer only what we deserve.” When, however, in obedience to the caliph, he wished to speak, Zobeidè would not give them time. She immediately addressed herself to the three calenders, and observing that they were all three blind with one eye, she asked if they were brothers. “No, madam,” answered one of them for the rest, “we are not brothers by blood, but only in consequence of being calenders; that is, in pursuing and observing the same kind of life.”--“Have you,” said she, “speaking to one of them in particular, “lost the sight of one eye from your birth?”--“No, indeed, madam,” he answered, “I became so through a most surprising adventure, by the recital or perusal of which, were it written, every one must derive advantage. After this misfortune, I shaved my beard and eyebrows, and in taking up the habit I wear, became a calender.” Zobeidè put the same question to the others, who returned her the same answer as the first. But the last who spoke, added, “To inform you, madam, that we are not common persons, and in order that you should have some pity for us, we must tell you, that we are all the sons of kings. Although we have never seen each other before this evening, we have had sufficient time to become acquainted with this circumstance; and I can assure you, that the kings who have given us birth have made some noise in the world!”