Now the cause of that knocking, O King (quoth Scheherazade) was this, the Caliph Harun al-Rashid had gone forth from the palace, as was his wont now and then, to solace himself in the city that night, and to see and hear what new thing was stirring. He was in merchant's gear, and he was attended by Ja'afar, his Wazir, and by Masrur, his Sworder of Vengeance. As they walked about the city, their way led them toward the house of the three ladies, where they heard the loud noise of musical instruments and singing and merriment. So quoth the Caliph to Ja'afar, "I long to enter this house and hear those songs and see who sing them." Quoth Ja'afar, "O Prince of the Faithful, these folk are surely drunken with wine, and I fear some mischief betide us if we get amongst them." "There is no help but that I go in there," replied the Caliph, "and I desire thee to contrive some pretext for our appearing among them." Ja'afar replied, "I hear and I obey," and knocked at the door, whereupon the portress came out and opened. Then Ja'afar came forward and, kissing the ground before her, said, "O my lady, we be merchants from Tiberias town. We arrived at Baghdad ten days ago and, alighting at the merchants' caravanserai, we sold all our merchandise. Now a certain trader invited us to an entertainment this night, so we went to his house and he set food before us and we ate. Then we sat at wine and wassail with him for an hour or so when he gave us leave to depart. And we went out from him in the shadow of the night and, being strangers, we could not find our way back to our khan. So haply of your kindness and courtesy you will suffer us to tarry with you this night, and Heaven will reward you!"

The portress looked upon them and, seeing them dressed like merchants and men of gave looks and solid, she returned to her sisters and repeated to them Ja'afar's story, and they took compassion upon the strangers and said to her, "Let them enter." She opened the door to them, when said they to her, "Have we thy leave to come in?" "Come in," quoth she, and the Caliph entered, followed by Ja'afar and Masrur. And when the girls saw them they stood up to them in respect and made them sit down and looked to their wants, saying, "Welcome, and well come and good cheer to the guests, but with one condition!" "What is that?" asked they, and one of the ladies answered, "Speak not of what concerneth you not, lest ye hear what pleaseth you not." "Even so," said they, and sat down to their wine and drank deep.

Presently the Caliph looked on the three Kalandars and, seeing them, each and every blind of the left eye, wondered at the sight. Then he gazed upon the girls, and he was startled and he marveled with exceeding marvel at their beauty and loveliness. They continued to carouse and to converse, and said to the Caliph, "Drink!" But he replied, "I am vowed to pilgrimage," and drew back from the wine. Thereupon the portress rose and, spreading before him a tablecloth worked with gold, set thereon a porcelain bowl into which she poured willow-flower water with a lump of snow and a spoonful of sugar candy. The Caliph thanked her and said in himself, "By Allah, I will recompense her tomorrow for the kind deed she hath done." The others again addressed themselves to conversing and carousing, and when the wine gat the better of them, the eldest lady, who ruled the house, rose and, making obeisance to them, took the cateress by the hand and said, "Rise, O my sister, and let us do what is our devoir." Both answered "Even so!"

Then the portress stood up and proceeded to remove the table service and the remnants of the banquet, and renewed the pastilies and cleared the middle of the saloon. Then she made the Kalandars sit upon a sofa at the side of the estrade, and seated the Caliph and Ja'afar and Masrur on the other side of the saloon, after which she called the porter, and said: "How scant is thy courtesy! Now thou art no stranger- nay, thou art one of the household." So he stood up and, tightening his waistcloth, asked, "What would ye I do?" And she answered, "Stand in thy place." Then the procuratrix rose and set in the midst of the saloon a low chair and, opening a closet, cried to the porter, "Come help me."

So he went to help her and saw two black bitches with chains round their necks, and she said to him, "Take hold of them," and he took them and led them into the middle of the saloon. Then the lady of the house arose and tucked up her sleeves above her wrists and, seizing a scourge, said to the porter, "Bring forward one of the bitches." He brought her forward, dragging her by the chain, while the bitch wept and shook her head at the lady, who, however, came down upon her with blows on the sconce. And the bitch howled and the lady ceased not beating her till her forearm failed her. Then, casting the scourge from her hand, she pressed the bitch to her bosom and, wiping away her tears with her hands, kissed her head. Then said she to the porter, "Take her away and bring the second." And when he brought her, she did with her as she had done with the first.

Now the heart of the Caliph was touched at these cruel doings. His chest straitened and he lost all patience in his desire to know why the two bitches were so beaten. He threw a wink at Ja'afar, wishing him to ask, but the Minister, turning toward him, said by signs, "Be silent!" Then quoth the portress to the mistress of the house, "O my lady, arise and go to thy place, that I in turn may do my devoir." She answered, "Even so," and, taking her seat upon the couch of juniper wood, pargetted with gold and silver, said to the portress and cateress, "Now do ye what ye have to do." Thereupon the portress sat upon a low seat by the couch side, but the procuratrix, entering a closet, brought out of it a bag of satin with green fringes and two tassels of gold. She stood up before the lady of the house and, shaking the bag, drew out from it a lute which she tuned by tightening its pegs; and when it was in perfect order, she began to sing these quatrains:
                    "Ye are the wish, the aim of me,
                    And when, O love, thy sight I see,
                    The heavenly mansion openeth,
                    But Hell I see when lost thy sight.
                    From thee comes madness, nor the less
                    Comes highest joy, comes ecstasy.
                    Nor in my love for thee I fear
                    Or shame and blame, or hate and spite.
                    When Love was throned within my heart
                    I rent the veil of modesty,
                    And stints not Love to rend that veil,
                    Garring disgrace on grace to alight.
                    The robe of sickness then I donned,
                    But rent to rags was secrecy.
                    Wherefore my love and longing heart
                    Proclaim your high supremest might.
                    The teardrop railing adown my cheek
                    Telleth my tale of ignomy.
                    And all the hid was seen by all
                    And all my riddle ree'd aright.
                    Heal then my malady, for thou
                    Art malady and remedy!
                    But she whose cure is in thy hand
                    Shall ne'er be free of bane and blight.
                    Burn me those eyne that radiance rain,
                    Slay me the swords of phantasy.
                    How many hath the sword of Love
                    Laid low, their high degree despite?
                    Yet will I never cease to pine,
                    Nor to oblivion will I flee.
                    Love is my health, my faith, my joy,
                    Public and private, wrong or right.
                    O happy eyes that sight thy charms,
                    That gaze upon thee at their gree!
                    Yea, of my purest wish and will
                    The slave of Love I'll aye be hight."

When the damsel heard this elegy in quatrains, she cried out "Alas! Alas!" and rent her raiment, and fell to the ground fainting. And the Caliph saw scars of the palm rod on her back and welts of the whip, and marveled with exceeding wonder. Then the portress arose and sprinkled water on her and brought her a fresh and very fine dress and put it on her. But when the company beheld these doings, their minds were troubled, for they had no inkling of the case nor knew the story thereof. So the Caliph said to Ja'afar: "Didst thou not see the scars upon the damsel's body? I cannot keep silence or be at rest till I learn the truth of her condition and the story of this other maiden and the secret of the two black bitches." But Ja'afar answered: "O our lord, they made it a condition with us that we speak not of what concerneth us not, lest we come to hear what pleaseth us not."

Then said the portress, "By Allah, O my sister, come to me and complete this service for me." Replied the procuratrix, "With joy and goodly gree." So she took the lute and leaned it against her breasts and swept the strings with her finger tips, and began singing:
                    "Give back mine eyes their sleep long ravished,
                    And say me whither be my reason fled.
                    I learnt that lending to thy love a place,
                    Sleep to mine eyelids mortal foe was made.
                    They said, `We held thee righteous. Who waylaid
                    Thy soul?' 'Go ask his glorious eyes,' I said.
                    I pardon all my blood he pleased to shed.
                    Owning his troubles drove him blood to shed.
                    On my mind's mirror sunlike sheen he cast,
                    Whose keen reflection fire in vitals bred.
                    Waters of Life let Allah waste at will,
                    Suffice my wage those lips of dewy red.
                    And thou address my love thou'lt find a cause
                    For plaint and tears or ruth or lustilied.
                    In water pure his form shall greet your eyne,
                    When fails the bowl nor need ye drink of wine."

Then she quoted from the same ode:
                    "I drank, but the draught of his glance, not wine,
                    And his swaying gait swayed to sleep these eyne.
                    'Twas not grape juice gript me but grasp of Past,
                    'Twas not bowl o'erbowled me but gifts divine.
                    His coiling curllets my soul ennetted
                    And his cruel will all my wits outwitted."