Mirzoza stop’d short, without having pronounced any one name. Selim could not refrain from smiling, and the Sultan from bursting out into laughter, at the favorite’s embarrassment, who knew so many virtuous women, and could not recollect anyone.

Mirzoza, piqued at this, turned to Selim, and said: “pray, Selim, help me out, you, who are so great a connoisseur. Prince,” continued she directing her discourse to the Sultan, “apply to⁠—whom shall I name? prithee, Selim, assist me.”

“To Mirzoza,” says Selim.

“You make your court to me very ill,” replied the favorite. “I am not afraid of the trial, but I abhor it. Name someone else quickly, if you would have me pardon you.”

“One may try,” says Selim, “if Zaide has found the reality of the ideal lover, which she formed to herself, and to whom she was formerly wont to compare all those who made love to her.”