LETTER CLVII. Zachi to Usbek, at Paris.

O HEAVENS! a barbarous wretch has outraged me; in the very manner of punishing, he has inflicted upon me that kind of punishment which shocks modesty; that chastisement which gives rise to the deepest humiliation; that chastisement which brings us back, as it were, to a state of infancy. My soul at first sinking with shame, recovered sentiment of itself, and began to be seized with indignation, when my cries made the vaults of the seraglio resound. I was heard to beg for mercy, from the lowest of human kind, and to endeavour to excite his compassion as he grew inexorable. Ever since his insolent and servile soul has got the ascendant over mine, his presence, his looks, his words, drive me to distraction. When I am alone, I at least have the consolation of shedding tears: but whenever he appears, I am seized with a transport of rage, and finding my rage impotent, I sink into despair. The tyger dares to tell me, that you are the causer of all these barbarities. He would even deprive me of my love, and profane the sentiments of my heart. When he pronounces the name of the man I love, I can no longer complain; I can only die. I have borne your absence, and preserved my love by the force of my passion. Nights, days, and moments, were all dedicated to you. I even valued myself upon my love, and yours for me caused me to be respected here. But now—no, I can no longer bear the abject condition to which I am fallen. If I

am innocent, return and restore me to your love; if I am guilty, return, that I may expire at your feet.

From the seraglio at
Ispahan, the 2d of the moon Maharran,
1720.