“Twelve hours more, and we shall be revenged. The treacherous ingrateful man shall perish, and his blood shall be shed.” Fatme affrighted at the extraordinary motion which she felt within her, and shock’d at the buzzing voice of her Toy, clapt both hands on it, and put herself upon duty to stop its mouth. But the powerful ring continued to act, and the ungovernable Toy breaking through every obstacle, added: “Yes, we shall be revenged. O! thou who hast betray’d me, wretched Kerfael, die, and thou, whom he has preferred to me, O Bimbreloqua, despair!—Twelve hours more! Alas! how tedious will this time appear to me. Hasten, sweet moments, when I shall see the treacherous, the ingrateful Kerfael under the executioner’s knife, his blood trickling down—Ah! Wretch, what have I said? Can I without horror see the dearest object of my love perish? Can I see the fatal weapon lifted up?—Ah! far from me this cruel thought.—He hates me, ’tis true; he has quitted me for Bimbreloqua, but perhaps some time or other—why do I say, perhaps? Love will certainly recall him under my yoke. That little Bimbreloqua is a fancy that will fly off; he must sooner or later be sensible of the injustice of his preference, and the ridiculousness of his new choice. Comfort thyself, Fatme, thou shalt see thy Kerfael again. Yes, thou shalt see him again. Arise quickly, run, fly to remove the dreadful danger which threatens him. Dost thou not tremble to come too late?—But whither shall I run, mean wretch that I am. Does not Kerfael’s disdain foretell me, that he has abandoned me forever. Bimbreloqua enjoys him, and ’tis for her that I was going to save him: ah! let him rather die a thousand deaths. If he lives no more for me, why should I be concerned for his death?—Yes, I am now convinced that my wrath is just. The ingrateful Kerfael has deserved all my hatred. I no longer have any remorse. I had done everything to keep him, I will do everything to destroy him. Yet one day later, and my revenge was disappointed. But his evil genius delivered him up to me, the very moment that he thought to escape me. He is fallen into the snare which I laid for him. I have him fast. The appointment, to which I contrived to bring thee, was the last which thou intendedst for me: but thou wilt not so soon forget it.—With what address did you bring him to your beck? Fatme, how well concerted was your disorder? Your shrieks, your grief, your tears, your confusion, everything, even to your silence, has ruin’d Kerfael. Nothing can snatch him from his impending fate. Kerfael is dead—You weep, wretched woman. He loved another, of what consequence is his life to you.”
Mangogul, filled with horror at this discourse, turned off his ring; and while Fatme was recruiting her spirits, he flew back to the Sultana. “Well, prince,” said she, “what have you heard? Is Kerfael still guilty, and the chast Fatme—”
“I beseech you to excuse me,” answered the Sultan, “from repeating the abominations which I come from hearing. How an exasperated woman is to be dreaded! Who could believe, that a body formed by the graces, sometimes enclosed a heart molded by the furies? But the sun shall not set tomorrow on my dominions, before they be purged of a monster more dangerous than those which are produced in my deserts.”
The Sultan immediately sent for the Seneschal, and commanded him to seize Fatme, to remove Kerfael into one of the apartments of the seraglio, and to inform the Senate, that he reserved to himself the cognizance of his affair. His orders were executed that very night.
The next morning at dawn of day, the Sultan attended by the Seneschal and an Effendi, went to Mirzoza’s apartment, and had Fatme brought thither. This unfortunate woman threw herself at Mangogul’s feet, confessed her crime with all its circumstances, and conjured Mirzoza to intercede for her. Meanwhile Kerfael was conducted in. He expected nothing but death: however he made his appearance with that composed assurance, which innocence alone can give. Some ill-natured wags said, that he would be in greater consternation, if what he was threaten’d to lose, was worth preserving. The women were upon the tenters to know the issue. He prostrated himself respectuously before his highness. Mangogul made him a signal to arise, and giving him his hand, “You are innocent,” said he, “be free. Render thanks to Brama for your preservation. In order to make amends for the misery you have suffered, I grant you a pension of two thousand sequins on my exchequer, and the first commandery that shall fall in the order of the Crocodile.”
The more favors were bestowed on Kerfael, the more Fatme dreaded punishment. The great Seneschal gave his opinion for death, grounded upon the law: Si foemina ff. de vi C. calumniatrix. The Sultan was inclined for perpetual imprisonment. Mirzoza finding too much rigor in one of these judgments, and too much indulgence in the other, condemned Fatme’s Toy to the padlock. The Florentine machine was publicly
