_Twenty-ninth Trial of the Ring._
Zuleiman and Zaide.
Mangogul, without answering the favorite's joke, departed instantly,
and went to Zaide's house. He found her retired in a closet, at a small
table, on which he observed some letters, a portrait, and some trifles
scatter'd here and there, which came from a cherished lover, as it
was easy to presume, by the fondness she expressed for them. She was
writing; tears ran down her cheeks, and wetted the paper. Every now and
then she kiss'd the portrait with transport opened the letters, wrote
some words, returned to the portrait, snatched up the above mentioned
trifles, and pressed them to her breast.
The Sultan's astonishment was incredible; he had never seen any tender
woman, but the favorite and Zaide. He thought himself beloved by
Mirzoza: but did not Zaide love Zuleiman better still? And were not
this pair the only true lovers of Congo.
The tears, which Zaide shed in writing, were not tears of sorrow. 'Twas
love that made them flow. And in that moment, a delicious sentiment,
which arose from a certainty of possessing the heart of Zuleiman, was
the only one that affected her. "Dear Zuleiman," cry'd she, "how I love
thee! how dear thou art to me! How agreeably thou employest me! In
those instants, when Zaide has not the happiness of seeing thee, she
writes to thee how much she is thine: separated from Zuleiman, his love
is the only conversation which gives her pleasure."
Zaide was thus far advanced in her amorous meditation, when Mangogul
pointed his ring at her. Immediately he heard her Toy send forth a sigh
and repeat the first words of her mistress's monology. "Dear Zuleiman,
how I love thee! how dear thou art to me! how agreeably thou employest
me!" Zaide's heart and Toy were too well agreed, to vary in their
discourse. Zaide was surprized at first; but she was so sure that her
Toy would say nothing, but what Zuleiman might hear with pleasure, that
she wish'd him present.
Mangogul repeated his trial, and Zaide's Toy repeated with a soft
tender voice: "Zuleiman, dear Zuleiman, how I love thee! how dear
thou art to me!" "Zuleiman," says the Sultan, "is the happiest
mortal of my empire. Let us abandon this place, where the image of a
happiness greater than mine is presented to my sight, and afflicts
me." Accordingly he withdrew, and went to his favorite with an air of
inquietude and pensiveness. "Prince," says she, "what ails you, you
say nothing to me of Zaide?"----"Zaide is an adorable woman, madam,"
replied Mangogul. "She loves beyond any thing that ever loved"--"So
much the worse for her," says Mirzoza. "What do you say?" replied the
Sultan.----"I say," answers the favorite, "that Kermades is one of the
most disagreeable persons of Congo; that interest and the authority of
the parents made that match; and that there never was a couple worse
sorted than Kermades and Zaide."
"But, madam," replies Mangogul, "it is not her husband that she
loves"----"Who then?" says Mirzoza.----"'Tis Zuleiman," replies
Mangogul----"Adieu then to the Porcelains and the little Sapajou,"
added the Sultana----"Ah!" says Mangogul whispering to himself, "this
Zaide has struck me: she pursues me, she occupies my thoughts; I must
absolutely see her again." Mirzoza interrupted him by some questions,
which he answered in monosyllables. He refused a game of piquet which
she proposed, complain'd of a head-ach which he counterfeited, retired
to his appartment, went to bed without supping, which he had never
done before, and had no sleep. The charms and tenderness of Zaide, the
qualities and happiness of Zuleiman tormented him the whole night.
One may easily imagine, that he had no business so much in his head
this day, as to return to Zaide. He walk'd out of his palace, even
without enquiring after Mirzoza, the first time that ever he fail'd in
this point. He found Zaide in the same closet as the preceding day, and
Zuleiman with her; who held his mistresses hands between his own, and
had his eyes fixed on her. Zaide on her knees, and inclining forward,
darted glances animated with the most ardent passion on Zuleiman. They
continued some time in this attitude: but both in the same instant
yielding to the violence of their desires, they rush'd into each others
arms, and embraced with eagerness. The profound silence, which had
hitherto reigned about them, was disturbed by their sighs, the sound
of their mutual kisses, and some inarticulated words, which slip'd
from them----"You love me!"----"I adore you"----"Will you love me
constantly?"----"Alas! the last sigh of my life shall be for Zaide!----"
Mangogul overwhelm'd with sorrow, threw himself into an easy chair,
and covered his eyes with his hand. He dreaded seeing things, which
are easily imagined, and yet did not happen. After a silence of some
moments, "Ah! dear and tender lover," says Zaide, "why have I not
always found you such as you are at present? I should not love you the
less, nor should I have any reproach to throw on myself.----But you
weep, dear Zuleiman. Come, dear and tender lover, come, and let me
wipe off your tears. Zuleiman, you cast down your eyes, what ails you?
Pray look on me.----Come, dear friend, come, that I may comfort thee:
cling thy lips on my mouth, breathe thy soul into me, receive mine;
suspend----Ah! no----no"----Zaide finished her discourse with a deep
sigh, and was silent.
The African author informs us, that this scene touched Mangogul most
sensibly, that he built some hopes on the impotence of Zuleiman, and
that some secret proposals were made on his behalf to Zaide, who
rejected them, and never made any merit of it with her lover.