"I asked the author of mine ills * To heal the wound with one
sweet kiss:
No! No! she cried,[FN#111] for ever no! * But I, soft whispering,
urged yes:
Quoth she, Then take it by my leave, * When smiles shall pardon
thine amiss:
By force, cried I? Nay, she replied * With love and gladness eke
I wis.
Now ask me not what next occurred * Seek grace of God and whist
of this!
Deem what thou wilt of us, for love * By calumnies the sweeter is
Nor after this care I one jot * Whether my foe be known or not."

Then his affection increased and love fires rose hotter in his
heart, while she refused herself to him saying, "Thou canst not
possess me." They ceased not to make love and enjoy their wine
and wassail, whilst Ghanim was drowned in the sea of love and
longing; but she redoubled in coyness and cruelty till the night
brought on the darkness and let fall on them the skirts of sleep.
Thereupon Ghanim rose and lit the lamps and wax candles and
refreshed the room and removed the table; then he took her feet
and kissed them and, finding them like fresh cream, pressed his
face[FN#112] on them and said to her, "O my lady, take pity on
one thy love hath ta'en and thine eyes hath slain; for indeed I
were heart whole but for thy bane!" And he wept somewhat. "O my
lord, and light of my eyes," quoth she, "by Allah, I love thee in
very sooth and I trust to thy truth, but I know that I may not be
thine." "And what is the obstacle?" asked he; when she answered,
"Tonight I will tell thee my tale, that thou mayst accept my