The secret-knowing bulbul of the musical-hall of narratives, namely, the pen, thus continues its melody: After the wife of the Kází had severed the robe of his conjugal authority with the scissors of deceit, she again stitched it with the needle of fraud, and invested with it the bosom of the wretched Kází’s imbecility by means of the above-narrated tricks. Then she sent word to her two accomplices, that she had drawn the bow of machination to its utmost extent by the exertion of her skill, that she had with the arrow thereof hit the target of the conditions stipulated, and that now the field was free to them for the display of their cunning.
The blandly-ambling pea-fowl of the pen continues the narrative as follows: Now it was the turn of the bazár-master’s wife, whose tricks were of a kind to instruct Iblís in the laws of deceit and fraud.[242] She began to weigh all kinds of stratagems in the balance of meditation, to enable her to decide what course of roguery would be best for her object. She happened to have a nurse who had also attained the highest degree of intrigue by the instigations of Iblís, and was her assistant in all her devices; so calling this woman, and anointing with the balsam of flattery the limbs of her attachment, she said: “O beloved and kind mother, the ornaments and pictures of my house of fraud and cunning are the offspring of thy instructions. It is long since the bond of amity was torn between me and my husband. In spite of all my endeavours, I am unable to cope with his sagacity; but I trust in thy affection, and hope that we shall be able to arrange this matter by thy assistance.” The nurse answered: “Ornament of the tribe of the lovely!
My soul is longing and my eyes waiting, Both to be sacrificed at thy behest.
As long as the child of the spirit remains in the cradle of my body, and the milk of motion and rest circulates in the members of it, I cannot avoid obeying thy commands. I sincerely comply with all thy orders.” Then said the wife of the bazár-master: “As I was one day coming from the bath, the son of a banker was walking in the lane. And when the smoke of the torch of my tenderness reached his nostrils, he fell from the courser of the intellect upon the ground of insensibility and followed me everywhere with groans and sighs; but the vanity of seeing myself beloved allowed me not to sprinkle the rose-water of a glance upon the face of his expectation. When he arrived at the door of my house, he sobbed, and then went away. I know that the bird of his heart is captivated by the pursuit after the grain of this phantom, and is imprisoned in the meshes of exclusion. I want thee to go to him and convey to him the following message: ‘From that day when the chamberlain of carelessness hindered me from admitting thee to the intimacy of an interview, I dreamed every night fearful dreams, and am to this day at all times so much plunged into the drowning waters of uneasiness, that it has become plain to me that all this is the consequence of thy disappointment and exclusion. Now I wish to remedy my incivility by promenading a little in the gardens of thy love and attachment. As the bazár-master will be engaged till the morning in some business, the house will not be encumbered by his presence. So put on a woman’s veil, bring wine and the requisites for amusement, and come hither, that we may sweeten our palates with the honey of meeting each other.’”