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pavilion.’ ‘True, O my son,’ rejoined the keeper; ‘for, had she seen thee, we were both dead men: but tarry with me till she come again next week, and thou shalt see her and take thy fill of looking on her.’ ‘O my lord,’ replied the prince, ‘I have with me good and fear for it. Moreover, I left men behind me and I fear lest they take advantage of my absence.’ ‘O my son,’ said the keeper, ‘it is grievous to me to part with thee;’ and he embraced him and bade him farewell.
Then Ibrahim returned to the khan where he lodged, and foregathering with the doorkeeper, took of him his good [that he had left with him]. Quoth the latter, ‘Good news, if it be the will of God!’[1] But Ibrahim said, ‘I found no way to my desire, and now I am minded to return to my people.’ Whereupon the porter wept; then taking up his goods, he carried them to the ship and bade him farewell. Ibrahim repaired to the place which Jemileh had appointed him and awaited her there till it grew dark, when she came up, disguised as a swashbuckler, with a round beard and her waist bound with a girdle. In one hand she held a bow and arrows and in the other a drawn sword, and she said to him, ‘Art thou Ibrahim, son of El Khesib, lord of Egypt?’ ‘I am he,’ answered the prince; and she said, ‘What good-for-nought art thou, that comest to debauch kings’ daughters? Come: speak with the Sultan.’[2]
Therewith he fell down in a swoon and the sailors well-nigh died in their skins for fear; but, when she saw what had betided her lover, she pulled off her beard and throwing down her sword, unbound the girdle from her waist, whereupon he knew her for the lady Jemileh and said to her, ‘By Allah, thou hast rent my heart in sunder!’ Then said he to the boatmen, ‘Hasten the vessel’s course.’
