All her enchantments, however, did not avail, for he was not only unable to walk or stand, but had also lost the use of his speech, and gave no signs of life, but by looks. Although the queen had only the consolation of seeing him and saying to him all the tender things that her love inspired, yet she constantly paid him two long visits every day. I was well acquainted with this circumstance, but I pretended to be ignorant of it. Excited by my curiosity, I went one day to the Palace of Tears, to know what was the occupation of the princess, and concealing myself in a part where I could see and hear what passed, I heard her speak in this manner to her lover: “It is the heaviest affliction to me to see you in this state; I feel as much as yourself the agonies you endure; but, dearest life, I am always speaking to you, and yet you return no answer: how long will this distressing silence continue? Speak but once, and I will be satisfied. Alas! these moments that I pass with you, endeavouring to mitigate your sufferings, are the happiest of my life. I cannot exist away from you, and I should willingly prefer the pleasure of seeing you continually, to the empire of the whole universe.” This discourse, which was frequently interrupted by tears and sobs, at length exhausted my patience. I could no longer remain in concealment, and approaching her, “Madam,” said I, “you have wept enough; it is now time to have done with a grief, which dishonours us both; you forgot what you owe to me, as well as what you owe to yourself.”--“Sire,” replied she, “if you still retain any regard for me, I entreat you to leave me to my sorrows, which time can neither diminish nor relieve.” I endeavoured, but in vain, to bring her to a sense of her duty; and finding that all my arguments only increased her obstinacy, I at last desisted and left her. She continued to visit her lover every day; and for two years she was inconsolable. I went a second time to the Palace of Tears while she was there. I hid myself as before, and heard her say, “It is now three years that you have not spoken to me; nor do you return the proofs of affection and fondness which my complaints and sighs must convince you I feel: is it from insensibility or disdain? Hast thou, O tomb, destroyed that excess of tenderness which he bore me? Hast thou closed for ever those dear eyes which beamed with love and formed all my pleasure? Ah no, I cannot think it; rather let me say, thou art become the deposit of the rarest treasure the world ever saw.”