Then he wept, whilst the Princesses wept for his weeping, and they were moved to compassion and jealousy for him. So they fell to comforting him and exhorting him to patience and offering up prayers for his reunion with his wife; whilst his sister said to him, "O my brother, be of good cheer and keep thine eyes cool and clear and be patient; so shalt thou win thy will; for whoso hath patience and waiteth, that he seeketh attaineth. Patience holdeth the keys of relief and indeed the poet saith, 'Let destiny with slackened rein its course appointed fare! And lie thou down to sleep by night, with heart devoid of care; For 'twixt the closing of an eye and th' opening thereof, God hath it in His power to change a case from foul to fair."[FN#104] So hearten thy heart and brace up thy resolve, for the son of ten years dieth not in the ninth.[FN#105] Weeping and grief and mourning gender sickness and disease; wherefore do thou abide with us till thou be rested, and I will devise some device for thy winning to thy wife and children, Inshallah—so it please Allah the Most High!" And he wept sore and recited these verses, "An I be healed of disease in frame, * I'm unhealed of illness in heart and sprite: There is no healing disease of love, * Save lover and loved one to re-unite." Then he sat down beside her and she proceeded to talk with him and comfort him and question him of the cause and the manner of his wife's departure. So he told her and she said, "By Allah, O my brother, I was minded to bid thee burn the feather-dress, but Satan made me forget it." She ceased not to converse with him and caress him and company with him other ten days, whilst sleep visited him not and he delighted not in food; and when the case was longsome upon him and unrest waxed in him, he versified with these couplets, "A beloved familiar o'erreigns my heart * And Allah's ruling reigns evermore: She hath all the Arabs' united charms * This gazelle who feeds on my bosom's core. Though my skill and patience for love of her fail, * I weep whilst I wot that 'tis vain to deplore. The dearling hath twice seven years, as though * She were moon of five nights and of five plus four."[FN#106]