They then turned to the porter to see if he could explain the mystery, but the porter was no wiser than they were themselves.  At length the Caliph could contain his curiosity no longer, and declared that he would compel the ladies to tell them the meaning of their strange conduct.  The vizir, foreseeing what would happen, implored him to remember the condition their hostesses had imposed, and added in a whisper that if his Highness would only wait till morning he could as Caliph summon the ladies to appear before him.  But the Caliph, who was not accustomed to be contradicted, rejected this advice, and it was resolved after a little more talking that the question should be put by the porter.  Suddenly Zobeida turned round, and seeing their excitement she said, “What is the matter—­ what are you all discussing so earnestly?”

“Madam,” answered the porter, “these gentlemen entreat you to explain to them why you should first whip the dogs and then cry over them, and also how it happens that the fainting lady is covered with scars.  They have requested me, Madam, to be their mouthpiece.”

“Is it true, gentlemen,” asked Zobeida, drawing herself up, “that you have charged this man to put me that question?”

“It is,” they all replied, except Giafar, who was silent.

“Is this,” continued Zobeida, growing more angry every moment, “is this the return you make for the hospitality I have shown you?  Have you forgotten the one condition on which you were allowed to enter the house?  Come quickly,” she added, clapping her hands three times, and the words were hardly uttered when seven black slaves, each armed with a sabre, burst in and stood over the seven men, throwing them on the ground, and preparing themselves, on a sign from their mistress, to cut off their heads.

The seven culprits all thought their last hour had come, and the Caliph repented bitterly that he had not taken the vizir’s advice.  But they made up their minds to die bravely, all except the porter, who loudly inquired of Zobeida why he was to suffer for other people’s faults, and declared that these misfortunes would never have happened if it had not been for the Calenders, who always brought ill-luck.  He ended by imploring Zobeida not to confound the innocent with the guilty and to spare his life.

In spite of her anger, there was something so comic in the groans of the porter that Zobeida could not refrain from laughing.  But putting him aside she addressed the others a second time, saying, “Answer me; who are you?  Unless you tell me truly you have not another moment to live.  I can hardly think you are men of any position, whatever country you belong to.  If you were, you would have had more consideration for us.”

The Caliph, who was naturally very impatient, suffered far more than either of the others at feeling that his life was at the mercy of a justly offended lady, but when he heard her question he began to breathe more freely, for he was convinced that she had only to learn his name and rank for all danger to be over.  So he whispered hastily to the vizir, who was next to him, to reveal their secret.  But the vizir, wiser than his master, wished to conceal from the public the affront they had received, and merely answered, “After all, we have only got what we deserved.”