In the meantime the beauteous Princess Babe-bi-bobu had recovered, and was in the arms of Acota, who, resigning her to her attendant maidens, addressed the assembly in a speech of so much eloquence, so much beauty, and so much force, that it was written down in letters of gold, being considered the _ne plus ultra_ of the Souffrarian language; he explained to them the nefarious attempt of Mezrimbi to counteract the will of Heaven, and how he had fallen into the snare which he had laid for others. And when he had finished, the whole assembly hailed him as their king; and the population, whose heads paved, as it were, a space of ten square miles, cried out, "Long life to the king Acota, and his beautiful princess Babe-bi-bobu, the cream tart of delight!" Who can attempt to describe the magnificent procession which took place that evening, who can describe the proud and splendid bearing of king Acota, or the beaming eyes of the beautiful Princess Babe-bi-bobu. Shall I narrate how the nightingales sang themselves to death--shall I-- ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "No, pray don't," interrupted the pacha, "only let us know one thing-- was the beautiful Babe-bi-bobu married at last?" "She was, that very evening, your sublime highness." "Allah be praised!" rejoined the pacha. "Mustapha, let Menouni know what it is to tell a story to a pacha, even though it is rather a long one, and I thought the princess would never have been married." And the pacha rose and waddled to his harem. VOLUME TWO, CHAPTER EIGHT.