seeking to learn the manner of the death and where it had taken place; so he found that the site was the China-land and that the mode was the foulest of slaughter; furthermore, that he who did him die was a young man Alaeddin hight.  Seeing this he straightway arose and equipped himself for wayfare; then he set out and cut across the wilds and words and heights for the space of many a month until he reached China and the capital of the Sultan wherein was the slayer of his brother.  He alighted at the so-called Strangers’ Khan and, hiring himself a cell, took rest therein for a while; then he fared forth and wandered about the highways that he might discern some path which would aid him unto the winning of his ill-minded wish, to wit, of wreaking upon Alaeddin blood-revenge for his brother.[FN#212] Presently he entered a coffee-house, a fine building which stood in the market-place and which collected a throng of folk to play, some at the mankalah,[FN#213] others at the backgammon[FN#214] and others at the chess and what not else.  There he sat down and listened to those seated beside him and they chanced to be conversing about an ancient dame and a holy, by name Fatimah,[FN#215] who dwelt alway at her devotions in a hermitage without the town, and this she never entered save only two days each month.  They mentioned also that she had performed many saintly miracles[FN#216] which, when the Maghrabi, the Necromancer, heard he said in himself, “Now have I found that which I sought:  Inshallah—­God willing—­by means of this crone will I win to my wish.”—­And Shahrazad was surprised by the dawn of day and ceased to say her permitted say.

     When it was the Five Hundred and Eighty-seventh Night,

Quoth Dunyazad, “O sister mine, an thou be other than sleepy, do tell us some of thy pleasant tales,” whereupon Shahrazad replied, “With love and good will.”—­It hath reached me, O King of the Age, that the Maghrabi, the Necromancer, went up to the folk who were talking of the miracles performed by the devout old woman and said to one of them, “O my uncle, I heard you all chatting about the prodigies of a certain saintess named Fatimah:  who is she and where may be her abode?  “Marvellous!"[FN#217] exclaimed the man:  “How canst thou be in our city and yet never have heard about the miracles of the Lady Fatimah?  Evidently, O thou poor fellow, thou art a foreigner, since the fastings of this devotee and her asceticism in worldly matters and the beauties of her piety never came to thine ears.”  The Moorman rejoined, " ’tis true, O my lord:  yes, I am a stranger and came to this your city only yesternight; and I hope thou wilt inform me concerning the saintly miracles of this virtuous woman and where may be her wone, for that I have fallen into a calamity, and ’tis my wish to visit her and crave her prayers, so haply Allah (to whom be honour and glory!) will, through her blessings, deliver me from mine evil.”  Hereat the man recounted to him the