As he had
ever been an indulgent husband, his wives, overwhelmed with grief at his
deplorable situation, incessantly offered their prayers for his health,
and unremittingly supplied him with water.
In the meantime the Princess Carathis, whose affliction no words can
describe, instead of restraining herself to sobbing and tears, was
closeted daily with the Vizir Morakanabad, to find out some cure or
mitigation of the Caliph's disease. Under the persuasion that it was
caused by enchantment, they turned over together, leaf by leaf, all the
books of magic that might point out a remedy, and caused the horrible
stranger, whom they accused as the enchanter, to be everywhere sought for
with the strictest diligence.
At the distance of a few miles from Samarah stood a high mountain, whose
sides were swarded with wild thyme and basil, and its summit overspread
with so delightful a plain, that it might be taken for the paradise
destined for the faithful. Upon it grew a hundred thickets of eglantine
and other fragrant shrubs, a hundred arbours of roses, jessamine, and
honeysuckle, as many clumps of orange trees, cedar, and citron, whose
branches, interwoven with the palm, the pomegranate, and the vine,
presented every luxury that could regale the eye or the taste.
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