lled with fears.

Every one exclaimed: "It is the will of God that we should perish
here. He has broken down the bridge that we may have no hope of
returning; He has raised up this mountain to hinder our going forward.
Oh, Rustem! Oh, hapless Mirza! We shall never see Cashmere, we shall
never return to the land of Candahar!"

In Rustem's soul the keenest anguish and most complete dejection
succeeded the immoderate joy and hopes which had intoxicated him. He
was now very far from interpreting the oracles to his advantage: "O
merciful heaven!" he cried. "Have I really lost my friend Topaz?"

As he spoke the words, heaving deep sighs and shedding bitter tears in
the sight of his despairing followers, behold, the base of the
mountain opened, and a long, vaulted gallery lighted by a hundred
thousand torches was revealed to his dazzled eyes!

Rustem broke into exclamations of joy; his people fell on their knees
or dropped down with amazement, crying out that it was a miracle, and
that Rustem was destined to govern the world. Rustem himself believed
it, and was uplifted beyond measure. "Ah! Ebony, my dear Ebony, where
are you?" he cried. "Why are you not here to see all these wonders?
How did I come to lose you? Fair Princess of Cashmere, when shall I
again behold your charms?"

He marched forward with his servants, his elephant and his camels,
into the tunnel under the mountain, and, at the end of it came out
upon a meadow enameled with flowers and watered by brooks. Beyond this
meadow avenues of trees stretched into the far distance; at the end of
them was a river bordered by delightful houses in the loveliest
gardens. On every side he heard concerts of voices and instruments,
and saw dancing. He hurried across one of the bridges over the river,
and asked the first man he met what was this beautiful country.

The man to whom he spoke replied: "You are in the province of
Cashmere; the inhabitants, as you see, are holding great rejoicings.
We are doing honour to the wedding of our beautiful Princess, who is
about to marry a certain lord named Barbabou, to whom her father has
plighted her. May heaven prolong their happiness!"

On hearing these words Rustem fell down in a swoon. The gentleman of
Cashmere, supposing that he was liable to fits, had him carried to his
own house, where he lay some time unconscious. The two cleverest
physicians of the district were called in; they felt their patient's
pulse: and he, having so