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1090. Avt'handil of the peerless form passed the city. On the seashore stood a building of red-green stone; in the lower part fair palaces, then above terrace upon terrace, vast, beautiful, numerous, hanging one over the other.[1]
1091. Thither is the sun-faced Avt'handil led by his guide, who says to him in a low voice: "This is the palace of him thou seekest." He shows it to him, and says: "Seest thou him standing on yonder terrace?[2] There he lies to sleep; know this, or thou shalt find him sitting."
1092. Before the door of that luckless youth lay two guards.[3] The knight (Avt'handil) passed, he stole in without making a sound; he put a hand on each of their throats, forthwith he slew them, he struck head upon head, brain and hair were mingled.
XXXIV
HERE IS THE SLAYING OF THE CHACHNAGIR[4] AND HIS TWO GUARDS BY AVT'HANDIL
1093. That youth lay alone in his chamber with angry heart. Bloody-handed Avt'handil, strong[5] in stature, entered, he gave him no time to rise, privily he slew him, we could not have perceived it; he laid hold of him, struck him on the ground, slew him with a knife.[6]
1094. He is a sun to them that gaze on him, a wild beast and a terror[7] to those that oppose him. He cut off the finger with the ring, he hurled him down to the ground; he threw him from the window towards the sea, he was mingled with the sands of the sea; for him nowhere is there a tomb, nor spade to dig his grave.
1095. Not a sound of their slaughter was heard. The sweet rose came forth; whereby could he have been so
