temptation which it required all my fortitude to resist. 'Saladin,'
continued he, 'it is but just that you, who have saved our lives, should
share our festivity. Come here on the birthday of my Fatima; I will
place you in a balcony which overlooks the garden, and you shall see the
whole spectacle. We shall have a _feast of tulips_, in imitation of that
which, as you know, is held in the grand seignior's gardens. I assure
you the sight will be worth seeing; and besides, you will have a chance
of beholding my Fatima, for a moment, without her veil.'

"'That,' interrupted I, 'is the thing I most wish to avoid. I dare not
indulge myself in a pleasure which might cost me the happiness of my
life. I will conceal nothing from you, who treat me with so much
confidence. I have already beheld the charming countenance of your
Fatima, but I know that she is destined to be the wife of a happier man.'

"Damat Zade seemed much pleased by the frankness with which I explained
myself; but he would not give up the idea of my sitting with him in the
balcony on the day of the feast of tulips; and I, on my part, could not
consent to expose myself to another view of the charming Fatima. My
friend used every argument, or rather every sort of persuasion, he could
imagine to prevail upon me; he then tried to laugh me out of my
resolution; and, when all failed, he said, in a voice of anger, 'Go,
then, Saladin: I am sure you are deceiving me; you have a passion for
some other woman, and you would conceal it from me, and persuade me you
refuse the favour I offer you from prudence, when, in fact, it is from
indifference and contempt. Why could you not speak the truth of your
heart to me with that frankness with which one friend should treat
another?'

"Astonished at this unexpected charge, and at the anger which flashed