A king had a daughter, beautiful as the moon, for whom all the world felt sympathy and affection. Passion was continually roused by her eyes, half closed with sleep and a gentle intoxication. Her face had the whiteness of camphor, and her hair the blackness of musk. The finest ruby withered with jealousy at the radiance of her lips. If she displayed the least part of her beauty, reason was saddened that it could not duly appreciate it. Had sugar known the taste of her lips, it would have curdled or melted with shame. By the effect of destiny, a dervish, whose gaze had fallen upon this shining moon, was violently enamoured of her. The poor man had a little round loaf in his hand, while the bread that might have nourished him had been left at the baker’s. But when his gaze fell upon the cheek of this moon, the little loaf dropped from his hand onto the road. The young girl passed before him like a flame of fire, and moved away from him laughing. When the dervish saw this smile, he fell upon the dust, bathed in blood. He still had half his loaf and half his soul; he was deprived of both at the same time. He found no rest by day or night; but he kept silent, and contented himself with weeping and groaning. Whenever he recalled the princess’s smile, he shed tears like a cloud pouring down abundant rain. This frenzied love lasted seven years, during which he slept with the dogs in the street where his mistress lived. The princess’s people at last became aware of the matter, and, being wicked by nature, they unanimously formed the design of cutting off the dervish’s head as one cuts a candle. However, the princess secretly summoned the faquir and said to him: “Can there be any likeness between a person such as I and a person such as you? But know that my people seek your life; so go and flee; cease to linger at my door, rise and disappear.”
The unhappy dervish replied: “On the day I fell in love with Thee, I washed my hands of life. May thousands of restless souls like mine be sacrificed at every moment for Thy beauty. Since they wish to kill me unjustly, speak one word in answer to the sole request I have to make of Thee. At the moment when Thou wert the cause of their wishing to sever my head, tell me why Thou didst laugh at me?” — “O ignorant one!” she replied, “when I saw that Thou wert about to bring dishonour upon thyself, I laughed out of pity for thee. I permitted myself to laugh out of pity, but not in mockery!” She spoke, and withdrew like smoke, far from the sorrowing dervish.