“Take comfort,” said Vathek with a smile, “he is in good hands. Bababalouk is fond of children, and never goes without sweetmeats and comfits.” The daughter of Fakreddin was abashed; and suffered Gulchenrouz to be borne away without adding a word. The tumult of her bosom betrayed her confusion; and Vathek becoming still more impassioned, gave a loose to his frenzy, which had only not subdued the last faint strugglings of reluctance, when the emir suddenly bursting in, threw his face upon the ground at the feet of the Caliph, and said: “Commander of the faithful, abase not yourself to the meanness of your slave.” “No, emir,” replied Vathek, “I raise her to an equality with myself; I declare her my wife; and the glory of your race shall extend from one generation to another.” “Alas! my lord,” said Fakreddin, as he plucked off the honours of his beard, “cut short the days of your faithful servant rather than force him to depart from his word. Nouronihar, as her hands evince, is solemnly promised to Gulchenrouz, the son of my bother, Ali Hassan; they are united also in heart; their faith is mutually plighted; and affiances so sacred cannot be broken.” “What, then,” replied the Caliph bluntly, “would you surrender this divine beauty to a husband more womanish than herself? And can you imagine that I will suffer her charms to decay in hands so inefficient and nerveless? No! she is destined to live out her life within my embraces: such is my will: retire, and disturb not the night I devote to the homage of her charms.” The irritated emir drew forth his sabre, presented it to Vathek, and stretching out his neck, said in a firm tone of voice: “Strike your unhappy host my lord! he has lived long enough, since he hath seen the prophet’s vicegerent violate the rights of hospitality.” At his uttering these words, Nouronihar unable to support any longer the conflict of her passions, sunk down in a swoon. Vathek, both terrified for her life, and furious at an opposition to his will, bade Fakreddin assist his daughter, and withdrew, darting his terrible look at the unfortunate emir, who suddenly fell backward bathed in a sweat, cold as the damp of death. Gulchenrouz, who had escaped from the hands of Bababalouk, and was that instant returned, called out for help as loudly as he could, not having strength to afford it himself. Pale and panting, the poor child attempted to revive Nouronihar by caresses, and it happened that the thrilling warmth of his lips restored her to life. Fakreddin beginning also to recover from the look of the Caliph, with difficulty tottered to a seat, and after warily casting round his eye to see if this dangerous prince were gone, sent for Shaban and Sutlememe, and said to them apart—