“Wilt thou take me for thy husband?” “Yes; but what wilt thou give me for a dowry?” “Alas! I am poor; I can give thee nothing more valuable than he who is opposite me.” This was the Sultan. “Very good,” said the girl: “I accept.” Now it happened that Tyrab was observing their signs, and called them to him, and asked for an explanation. The young man boldly said,— “I was asking my sweetheart here, if she would marry me; she consents, but asks for a dowry; and I have answered her that I have none other to give but thee.” “This is a singular dowry,” said Tyrab; “and has she accepted?” “Certainly,” said the young man. Then the Sultan said to the girl,— “Wilt thou allow me to take a substitute, and to pay a ransom?” “Willingly,” answered she; “I consent—I accept.” So Tyrab sent for the father of the young girl, and asked her in marriage, and drew out the contract with her father; and gave to the bride for dowry two beautiful slaves, and to the bridegroom a handsome negro; and, moreover, added wherewith to live comfortably. Verily, this was a fine trait, for there is nothing more excellent than to unite those who love by a pure tie. A similar story is told of the Kaliph, Abou-Bekr. He used to wander by night through the Brilliant City, in order to know the true state of his people, and to discover who was the victim of oppression. In one of his rounds he heard in the street a young girl singing these verses:— “Alas, I loved him even before they tore away my talisman; In his walk he describes the graceful bending of a branch: His countenance is like the lustre of the full moon— Like it, he appears and disappears, And he is of the stock of Hashim.” Abou-Bekr knocked at the door, and said to this young girl,— “Who is he that thou lovest?” “Depart from hence,” cried she. He persisted, saying: “Thou must tell me the name of him thou lovest.” “By the name of the Prophet, who is now in his tomb, I conjure thee to depart from hence!” “By the name of God, I will not go away until thou hast told me who is the object of thy love!” Then she heaved a profound sigh, and replied,— “An unhappy flame consumes me; I am full of trouble. I love Mohammed, son of Kasim.” “But art thou free?” “No; I am a slave.” “Of whom?” “Of such a one,” naming him. Then Abou-Bekr went away, and, in the morning, learned that the son of Kasim was upon an expedition in Irak. So he bought the young slave-girl, and sent her with a letter to her lover, explaining what had come to pass; and adding, “My son, how many hearts have sickened unto death for women! and how many virgins have languished in disappointment!”