That black monster has finally decided to drive me to despair : he insists on taking away my slave Zelide – Zelide, who serves me with such affection, and whose skillful hands place ornaments and elegance everywhere ; it is not enough for him that this separation be excruciating, he also wants it to be humiliating. The traitor wants to regard the motives for my confidence as criminal ; and because he gets bored behind the door where I am constantly remanding him,  he dares to suppose he has heard or seen things that I cannot even imagine.  I am terribly unhappy. Neither my solitude nor my virtue can protect me from his extravagant suspicions ; an abject slave presumes to attack me even in your heart, and I must defend myself. No, I respect myself too much to stoop to justifications. I want no warrant for my conduct than yourself, your love, and mine ; and, if I must say it, dear Usbek, than my tears.
The Fatmé seraglio this 29th day of the moon of Maharram 1711