knees and, bowing her head upon her collar, began to look into her case and her abasement after her lot of high honour; and the beating she had endured; and she called to mind her brother and his sickness and forlorn condition, and how they were both strangers in a far country, which drave her tears down her cheeks and she wept silently and began repeating, "Time hath for his wont to upraise and debase, * Nor is lasting condition for human race: In this world each thing hath appointed turn; * Nor may man transgress his determined place: How long these perils and woes? Ah woe * For a life, all woeful in parlous case! Allah bless not the days which have laid me low * I' the world, with disgrace after so much grace! My wish is baffled, my hopes cast down, * And distance forbids me to greet his face: O thou who passeth that dear one's door, * Say for me, these tears shall flow evermore!" When she had finished her verses, the Badawi came up to her and, taking compassion on her, bespoke her kindly and wiped away her tears. Then he gave her a barley scone and said, "I love not one who answereth at times when I am in wrath: so henceforth give me no more of these impertinent words and I will sell thee to a good man like myself, who will do well with thee, even as I have done." "Yes; whatso thou doest is right," answered she; and when the night was longsome upon her and hunger burnt her, she ate very little of that barley bread. In the middle of the night the Badawi gave orders for departure,—And Shahrazad perceived the dawn of day and ceased saying her permitted say. When it was the Fifty-sixth Night,