not thy barbarity far exceeded my revenge? Hast thou not, traitor, in destroying almost the existence of so adorable an object, equally destroyed mine? Alas!” added she, addressing herself to the sultan, whom she took for the black, “will you always, light of my life, preserve this silence? Are you resolved to let me die without the consolation of hearing you again declare you love me. Utter, at least, one word, I conjure you.” The sultan then, pretending to awake from a profound sleep, and imitating the language of the blacks, answered the queen in a solemn tone. “There is no strength or power, but in God alone, who is all-powerful.” At these words the enchantress, to whom they were unexpected, gave a violent scream through excess of joy. “My dear lord,” she exclaimed, “do you deceive me: is what I hear true? Is it really you who speak?”--“Wretched woman,” replied the sultan, “are you worthy of an answer?”--“What!” cried the queen, “do you reproach me?”--“The cries, the tears, the groans of thy husband,” answered the supposed black, “whom you every day beat with so much indignity and barbarity, continually prevent my rest: I should have been cured long since, and recovered the use of my tongue, if you had disenchanted him. This, and this only, is the cause of my silence, and of which you so severely complain.”--“Well then,” said the enchantress, “to satisfy you, I am ready to do what you command: do you wish him to reassume his first form?”--“Yes,” replied the sultan, “and hasten to set him free, that I may no longer be disturbed by his cries.” The queen immediately went out from the Palace of Tears; and taking a vessel of water, she pronounced over it some words, which caused it instantly to boil, as if it had been placed on a fire. She proceeded to the apartment, where the young king, her husband, was; “If the creator of all things,” said she, throwing the water over him, “hath formed thee as thou now art, or if he is angry with thee, do not change; but if thou art in that state by virtue of my inchantment, reassume thy natural form, and become the same as before.” She had hardly concluded, when the prince, recovering his first shape, rose up with all possible joy, and returned thanks to God. “Go,” said the enchantress, addressing him, “hasten from this castle, and never return, lest it should cost you your life.” --The young king yielded to necessity, and left the queen without replying a word. He concealed himself in some secure spot, where he impatiently waited the completion of the sultan’s design, the commencement of which had been so successful.