Chapter II: Part 2

The merchant understanding that the ass was in a lamentable condition, was desirous of knowing what passed between him and the ox, therefore, after supper he went out by moonlight, and sat down by them, his wife bearing him company. After his arrival, he heard the ass say to the ox, Comrade, tell me, I pray you, what you intend to do to-morrow, when the labourer brings you meat? What will I do! replied the ox, I will continue to act as you taught me. I will draw back from him and threaten him with my horns, as I did yesterday: I will feign myself ill, and at the point of death. Beware of that, replied the ass, it will ruin you; for as I came home this evening, I heard the merchant, our master, say something that makes me tremble for you. Alas! what did you hear? demanded the ox; as you love me, withhold nothing from me, my dear Sprightly. Our master, replied the ass, addressed himself thus to the labourer: Since the ox does not eat and is not able to work, I would have him killed to-morrow, and we will give his flesh as an alms to the poor for God’s sake; as for the skin that will be of use to us, and I would have you give it the currier to dress; therefore be sure to send for the butcher. This is what I had to tell you, said the ass. The interest I feel in your preservation, and my friendship for you, obliged me to make it known to you, and to give you new advice. As soon as they bring you your bran and straw, rise up, and eat heartily. Our master will by this think that you are recovered, and no doubt will recall his orders for killing you; but, if you act otherwise, you will certainly he slaughtered.

This discourse had the effect which the ass designed. The ox was greatly alarmed, and bellowed for fear. The merchant, who heard the conversation very attentively, fell into a loud fit of laughter. His wife was greatly surprised, and asked, Pray, husband, tell me what you laugh at so heartily, that I may laugh with you. Wife, replied he, you must content yourself with hearing me laugh. No, returned she, I will know the reason. I cannot afford you that satisfaction, answered he, and can only inform you that I laugh at what our ass just now said to the ox. The rest is a secret, which I am not allowed to reveal. What, demanded she, hinders you from revealing the secret? If I tell it you, replied he, I shall forfeit my life. You only jeer me, cried his wife; what you would have me believe cannot be true. If you do not directly satisfy me as to what you laugh at, and tell me what the ox and the ass said to one another, I swear by heaven that you and I shall never bed together again.

Having spoken thus, she went into the house, and seating herself in a corner, cried there all night. Her husband lay alone, and finding next morning that she continued in the same humour, told her, she was very foolish to afflict herself in that manner; that the thing was not worth so much; that it concerned her very little to know, while it was of the utmost consequence to him to keep the secret: therefore, continued he, I conjure you to think no more of it. I shall still think so much of it, replied she, as never to forbear weeping till you have satisfied my curiosity. But I tell you very seriously, answered he, that it will cost me my life if I yield to your indiscreet solicitations. Let what will happen, said she, I do insist upon it. I perceive, resumed the merchant, that it is impossible to bring you to reason, and since I foresee that you will occasion your own death by your obstinacy, I will call in your children, that they may see you before you die. Accordingly he called for them, and sent for her father and mother, and other relations. When they were come, and heard the reason of their being summoned, they did all they could to convince her that she was in the wrong, but to no purpose: she told them that she would rather die than yield that point to her husband. Her father and mother spoke to her, and told her that what she desired to know was of no importance to her; but they could produce no effect upon her, either by their authority or entreaties. When her children saw that nothing would prevail to draw her out of that sullen temper, they wept bitterly. The merchant himself was half frantic, and almost ready to risk his own life to save that of his wife, whom he sincerely loved.

Now, my daughter, continued the vizier to Scheherazade, this merchant had fifty hens, and one cock, with a dog, that gave good heed to all that passed. While the merchant was, as I said, considering what he had best do, he saw his dog run towards the cock as he was treading a hen, and heard him say to him: Cock, I am sure heaven will not let you live long; are you not ashamed to act thus to-day? The cock standing up on tiptoe, answered fiercely: and why not to-day as well as other days? If you do not know, replied the dog, then I will tell you, that this day our master is in great perplexity. His wife would have him reveal a secret which is of such a nature, that the disclosure would cost him his life. Things are come to that pass, that it is to be feared he will scarcely have resolution enough to resist his wife’s obstinacy; for he loves her, and is affected by the tears she continually sheds. We are all alarmed at his situation, while you only insult our melancholy, and have the impudence to divert yourself with your hens.

The cock answered the dog’s reproof thus: What, has our master so little sense? he has but one wife, and cannot govern her, and though I have fifty I make them all do what I please. Let him use his reason, he will soon find a way to get rid of his trouble. How? demanded the dog; what would you have him to do? Let him go into the room where his wife is, resumed the cock, lock the door, and take a stick and thrash her well; and I will answer for it, that will bring her to her senses, and make her forbear to importune him to discover what he ought not to reveal. The merchant had no sooner heard what the cock said, than he took up a stick, went to his wife whom he found still crying, and shutting the door, belaboured her so soundly, that she cried out “Enough, husband, enough, forbear, and I will never ask the question more.” Upon this, perceiving that she repented of her impertinent curiosity, he desisted; and opening the door her friends came in, were glad to find her cured of her obstinacy, and complimented her husband upon this happy expedient to bring his wife to reason. Daughter, added the grand vizier, you deserve to be treated as the merchant treated his wife.

Father, replied Scheherazade, I beg you would not take it ill that I persist in my opinion. I am nothing moved by the story of this woman. I could relate many, to persuade you that you ought not to oppose my design. Besides, pardon me for declaring, that your opposition is vain, for if your paternal affection should hinder you from granting my request, I will go and offer myself to the sultan. In short, the father, being overcome by the resolution of his daughter, yielded to her importunity, and though he was much grieved that he could not divert her from so fatal a resolution, he went instantly to acquaint the sultan, that next night he would bring him Scheherazade.

The sultan was much surprised at the sacrifice which the grand vizier proposed to make. How could you, says he, resolve to bring me your own daughter? Sir, answered the vizier, it is her own offer. The sad destiny that awaits her could not intimidate her; she prefers the honour of being your majesty’s wife for one night, to her life. But do not act under a mistake, vizier, said the sultan; to-morrow when I place Scheherazade in your hands, I expect you will put her to death; and if you fail, I swear that your own life shall answer. Sir, rejoined the vizier, my heart without doubt will be full of grief to execute your commands; but it is to no purpose for nature to murmur. Though I am her father, I will answer for the fidelity of my hand to obey your order. Schahriar accepted his minister’s offer, and told him he might bring his daughter when he pleased.

The grand vizier went with the intelligence to Scheherazade, who received it with as much joy as if it had been the most agreeable information she could have received. She thanked her father for having so greatly obliged her; and perceiving that he was overwhelmed with grief, told him, for his consolation, that she hoped he would never repent of having married her to the sultan; and that, on the contrary, he should have reason to rejoice at his compliance all his days.

Her business now was to adorn herself to appear before the sultan; but before she went, she took her sister Dinarzade apart, and said to her, My dear sister, I have need of your assistance in a matter of great importance, and must pray you not to deny it me. My father is going to conduct me to the sultan: do not let this alarm you, but hear me with patience. As soon as I am in his presence, I will pray him to allow you to lie in the bride-chamber, that I may enjoy your company this one night more. If I obtain that favour, as I hope to do, remember to awake me to-morrow an hour before day, and to address me in these or some such words, “My sister, if you be not asleep. I pray you that till day-break, which will be very shortly, you will relate to me one of the entertaining stories of which you have read so many.” I will immediately tell you one; and I hope by this means to deliver the city from the consternation it is under at present. Dinarzade answered that she would with pleasure act as she required her.

The grand vizier conducted Scheherazade to the palace, and retired, after having introduced her into the sultan’s apartment. As soon as the sultan was left alone with her, he ordered her to uncover her face; he found her so beautiful, that he was perfectly charmed; but perceiving her to be in tears, demanded the reason. Sir, answered Scheherazade. I have a sister who loves me tenderly, and I could wish that she might be allowed to pass the night in this chamber, that I might see her, and once more bid her adieu. Will you be pleased to allow me the consolation of giving her this last testimony of my affection? Schahriar having consented, Dinarzade was sent for, who came with all possible expedition.

An hour before day, Dinarzade failed not to do as her sister had ordered. My dear sister, cried she, if you be not asleep, I pray that until day-break, which will be very shortly, you will tell me one of those pleasant stories you have read. Alas! this may perhaps be the last time that I shall enjoy that pleasure.

Scheherazade, instead of answering her sister, addressed herself to the sultan; Sir, will your majesty be pleased to allow me to afford my sister this satisfaction? With all my heart, replied the sultan. Scheherazade then bade her sister attend, and afterwards addressing herself to Schahriar, proceeded as follows.

FIRST NIGHT.

The Merchant and the Genii.

Sir, --There was formerly a merchant, who had a great estate in lands, goods, and money. He had abundance of deputies, factors, and slaves. He was obliged from time to time to take journeys, and talk with his correspondents: and one day, being under a necessity of going a long journey, about an affair of importance, he took horse, and put a portmanteau behind him, with some biscuits and dates, because he had a great desert to pass over, where he could have no manner of provisions. He arrived, without any accident, at the end of his journey; and having dispatched his affairs, took horse again, in order to return home.

The fourth day of his journey, he was so much incommoded by the heat of the sun, and the reflection of that heat from the earth, that he turned out of the road, to refresh himself under some trees, that he saw in the country. There he found, at the foot of a great walnut tree, a fountain of very clear running water; and alighting, tied his horse to a branch of a tree, and sitting down by the fountain, took some biscuits and dates out of his portmanteau; and as he ate his dates, threw the shells about on both sides of him. When he had done eating, being a good Mussulman, he washed his hands, his face, and his feet, and said his prayers. He had not made an end, but was still on his knees, when he saw a genie appear, all white with age, and of a monstrous bulk; who, advancing towards him with a scimitar in his hand, spoke to him in a terrible voice thus: Rise up, that I may kill thee with this scimitar, as you have killed my son; and accompanied those words with a frightful cry. The merchant, being as much frightened at the hideous shape of the monster as at those threatening words, answered him, trembling, Alas, my good lord, of what crime can I be guilty towards you, that you should take away my life? I will, replies the genie, kill thee, as thou hast killed my son. O, heaven! says the merchant, how should I kill your son? I did not know him, nor ever saw him. Did not you sit down when you came hither? replies the genie. Did not you take dates out of your portmanteau, and, as you ate them, did not you throw the shells about on both sides? I did all that you say, answers the merchant; I cannot deny it. If it be so, replied the genie, I tell thee that thou hast killed my son; and the way was thus: when you threw the nutshells about, my son was passing by, and you threw one of them into his eye, which killed him, and therefore I must kill thee. Ah! my lord, pardon me, cried the merchant. No pardon, answers the genie, no mercy: is it not just to kill him that has killed another? I agree to it, says the merchant, but certainly I never killed your son; and if I have, it was unknown to me, and I did it innocently; therefore I beg you to pardon me, and suffer me to live. No, no, says the genie, persisting in his resolution; I must kill thee, since thou hast killed my son; and then, taking the merchant by the arm, threw him with his face upon the ground, and lifted up his scimitar to cut off his head.

The merchant, all in tears, protested he was innocent, bewailed his wife and children, and spoke to the genie in the most moving expressions that could be uttered. The genie, with his scimitar still lifted up, had so much patience as to hear the wretch make an end of his lamentations, but would not relent. All this whining, says the monster, is to no purpose; though you should shed tears of blood, that shall not hinder me from killing thee, as thou hast killed my son. Why, replied the merchant, can nothing prevail with you? Will you absolutely take away the life of a poor innocent? Yes, replied the genie, I am resolved upon it. As she had spoken these words, perceiving it was day, and knowing that the sultan rose betimes in the morning to say his prayers, and hold his council, Scheherazade held her peace. Lord! sister, says Dinarzade, what a wonderful story is this! The remainder of it, says Scheherazade, is more surprising; and you will be of my mind, if the sultan will let me live this day, and permit me to tell it you the next night. Schahriar, who had listened to Scheherazade with pleasure, says to himself, I will stay till to-morrow, for I can at any time put her to death, when she has made an end of her story. So, having resolved not to take away Scheherazade’s life that day, he rose, and went to his prayers, and then called his council.

All this while the grand vizier was terribly uneasy. Instead of sleeping, he spent the night in sighs and groans, bewailing the loss of his daughter, of whom he believed that he himself should be the executioner. And as, in this melancholy prospect, he was afraid of seeing the sultan, he was agreeably surprised when he saw the prince enter the council chamber, without giving him the fatal orders he expected.

The sultan, according to his custom, spent the day in regulating his affairs; and when night came, he went to bed with Scheherazade. Next morning, before day, Dinarzade failed not to address herself to her sister thus: My dear sister, if you be not asleep, I pray you, till day-break, which must be in a very little time, to go on with the story you began last night. The sultan, without staying till Scheherazade asked him leave, bid her make an end of the story of the genie and the merchant, for I long to hear the issue of it. Upon which Scheherazade spoke, and continued the story, as follows:

SECOND NIGHT.

When the merchant saw that the genie was going to cut off his head, he cried out aloud, and said to him, For heaven’s sake, hold your hand! Allow me one word: be so good as to grant me some respite; allow me but time to bid my wife and children adieu, and to divide my estate among them by will, that they may not go to law with one another, after my death; and when I have done so, I will come back to the same place, and submit to whatever you shall please to order concerning me. But, says the genie, if I grant you the time you demand, I doubt you will never return. If you will believe my oath, answers the merchant, I swear by all that is sacred that I will come and meet you here without fail. What time do you demand then? replies the genie. I ask a year, says the merchant; I cannot have less to order my affairs, and to prepare myself to die without regret. But I promise you, that this day twelvemonths I will return under those trees, to put myself into your hands. Do you take heaven to be witness to this promise? says the genie. I do, answers the merchant, and repeat it, and you may rely upon my oath. Upon this, the genie left him near the fountain, and disappeared.

The merchant, being recovered from his fright, mounted his horse, and set forward on his journey; and as he was glad, on the one hand, that he had escaped so great a danger, so he was mortally sorry, on the other, when he thought on his fatal oath. When he came home, his wife and children received him with all the demonstrations of perfect joy; but he, instead of making them suitable returns, fell to weeping bitterly; from whence they readily conjectured that something extraordinary had befallen him. His wife asked the reason of his excessive grief and tears: We are all overjoyed, says she, at your return, but you frighten us to see you in this condition; pray tell us the cause of your sorrow. Alas! replies the husband, the cause of it is, that I have but a year to live; and then he told what had passed between him and the genie, and that he had given him his oath to return at the end of the year, to receive death from his hands.

When they had heard this sad news, they all began to lament heartily. His wife made a pitiful outcry, beat her face, and tore her hair. The children, all in tears, made the house resound with their groans: and the father, not being able to overcome nature, mingled his tears with theirs; so that, in a word, it was the most affecting spectacle that any man could behold.

Next morning, the merchant applied himself to put his affairs in order, and, first of all, to pay his debts. He made presents to his friends; gave great alms to the poor; set his slaves of both sexes at liberty; divided his estate among his children; appointed guardians for such of them as were not come of age; and, restoring to his wife all that was due to her by contract of marriage, he gave her, over and above, all that he could do by law.

At last the year expired, and go he must. He put his burial clothes in his portmanteau; but never was there such grief seen as when he came to bid his wife and children adieu. They could not think of parting, but resolved to go and die with him; but finding that he must be forced to part with those dear objects, he spoke to them thus: My dear wife and children, says he, I obey the order of Heaven in quitting you; follow my example, submit courageously to this necessity, and consider that it is the destiny of man to die. Having said these words, he went out of the hearing of the cries of his family; and taking his journey, arrived at the place where he promised to meet the genie on the day appointed. He alighted, and setting himself down by the fountain, waited the coming of the genie with all the sorrow imaginable. Whilst he languished in this cruel expectation, a good old man, leading a hind, appeared, and drew near him. They saluted one another; after which the old man says to him, Brother, may I ask you why you are come into this desert place, where there is nothing but evil spirits, and by consequence you cannot be safe? To look upon these fine trees, indeed, one would think the place inhabited; but it is a true wilderness, where it is not safe to stay long.

The merchant satisfied his curiosity, and told him the adventure which obliged him to be there. The old man listened to him with astonishment, and when he had done, cried out, This is the most surprising thing in the world; and you are bound with the most inviolable oath; however, I will be witness of your interview with the genie. And sitting down by the merchant, they talked together. But I see day, says Scheherazade, and must leave off; yet the best of the story is to come. The sultan, resolving to hear the end of it, suffered her to live that day also.

THIRD NIGHT.

Next morning, Dinarzade made the same request to her sister as formerly: My dear sister, says she, if you be not asleep, tell me one of those pleasant stories that you have read. But the sultan, willing to understand what followed between the merchant and the genie, bid her go on with that, which she did, as follows:

Sir, while the merchant, and the old man who led the hind, were talking, they saw another old man coming to them, followed by two black dogs. After they had saluted one another, he asked them what they did in that place. The old man with the hind, told him the adventure of the merchant and genie, with all that had passed between them, particularly the merchant’s oath. He added, that it was the day agreed on, and that he was resolved to stay and see the issue.

The second old man, thinking it also worth his curiosity, resolved to do the like: he likewise sat down by them; and they had scarce began to talk together, but there came a third old man, who addressing himself to the two former, asked why the merchant that sat with them looked so melancholy. They told him the reason of it, which appeared so extraordinary to him, that he also resolved to be witness to the result; and for that end sat down with them.

In a little time, they perceived in the field a thick vapour, like a cloud of dust raised by a whirlwind, advancing towards them, which vanished all of a sudden, and then the genie appeared; who, without saluting them, came up to the merchant with a drawn scimitar, and taking him by the arm, says, Get thee up, that I may kill thee, as thou didst my son. The merchant and the three old men, being frightened, began to lament, and to fill the air with their cries. Here Scheherazade, perceiving day, left off her story; which did so much whet the sultan’s curiosity, that he was absolutely resolved to hear the end of it, and put off the sultaness’s execution till the next day.

Nobody can express the grand vizier’s joy when he perceived that the sultan did not order him to kill Scheherazade: his family, the court, and all the people in general, were astonished at it.

FOURTH NIGHT.

Towards the end of the following night, Dinarzade failed not to awake the sultaness. My dear sister, says she, if you be not asleep, pray tell me one of your fine stories. Then Scheherazade, with the sultan’s permission, spoke as follows:

Sir, when the old man who led the hind saw the genie lay hold of the merchant, and about to kill him without mercy, he threw himself at the feet of the monster, and, kissing them, says to him, Prince of genies, I most humbly request you to suspend your anger, and do me the favour to hear me. I will tell you the history of my life, and of the hind you see; and if you think it more wonderful and surprising than the adventure of the merchant you are going to kill, I hope you will pardon the poor unfortunate man the third of his crime. The genie took some time to consult upon it, out answered at last, Well, then, I agree to it.

The History of the first Old Man, and the Hind.

I shall begin, then, says the old man; listen to me, I pray you, with attention. This hind you see is my cousin; nay, what is more, my wife: she was only twelve years or age when I married her, so that I may justly say, she ought as much to regard me as her father, as her kinsman and husband.

We lived together twenty years without any children; yet her barrenness did not hinder my having a great deal of complaisance and friendship for her. The desire of having children only made me buy a slave, by whom I had a son, who was extremely promising. My wife being jealous, conceived a hatred for both mother and child, but concealed it so well, that I did not know it till it was too late.

Mean time my son grew up, and was ten years old, when I was obliged to undertake a journey. Before I went, I recommended to my wife, of whom I had no mistrust, the slave and her son, and prayed her to take care of them during my absence, which was for a whole year. She made use of that time to satisfy her hatred; she applied herself to magic, and when she knew enough of that diabolical art to execute her horrible contrivance, the wretch carried my son to a desolate place, where by her enchantments, she changed my son into a calf, and gave him to my farmer to fatten, pretending she had bought him. Her fury did not stop at this abominable action, but she likewise changed the slave into a cow, and gave her also to my farmer.

At my return, I asked for the mother and child: Your slave, says she, is dead; and as for your son, I know not what has become of him. I have not seen him these two months. I was troubled at the death of the slave, but my son having only disappeared, as she told me, I was in hopes he would return in a little time. However, eight months passed, and I heard nothing of him. When the festival of the great Bairam happened, to celebrate the same, I sent to my farmer for one of the fattest cows, to sacrifice, and he sent me one accordingly. The cow which he brought me was my slave, the unfortunate mother of my son. I tied her, but as I was going to sacrifice her, she bellowed pitifully, and I could perceive streams of tears run from her eyes. This seemed to me very extraordinary; and finding myself, in spite of all I could do, inspired with pity, I could not find in my heart to give her a blow, but ordered my farmer to get me another.

My wife, who was present, was enraged at my compassion, and, opposing herself to an order which disappointed her malice, she cries out, What are you doing, husband? Sacrifice that cow: your farmer has not a finer, nor one fitter for that use. Out of complaisance to my wife, I came again to the cow, and, combating my compassion, which suspended the sacrifice, was going to give her the fatal blow, when the victim, redoubling her tears and bellowing, disarmed me a second time. Then I put the mallet into the farmer’s hands, and bid him take and sacrifice her himself, for her tears and bellowing pierced my heart.

The farmer, less compassionate than I, sacrificed her; and when he flayed her, found her to be nothing but bones, though to us she seemed very fat. Take her to yourself, says I to the farmer, I quit her to you; give her in alms, or which way you will; and if you have a very fat calf, bring it me in her stead. I did not inform myself what he did with the cow; but, soon after he took her away, he came with a very fat calf. Though I knew not the calf was my son, yet I could not forbear being moved at the sight of him. On his part, as soon as he saw me, he made so great an effort to come to me, that he broke his cord, threw himself at my feet, with his head against the ground, as if he meant to excite my compassion, conjuring me not to be so cruel as to take his life; and did as much as was possible for him to do, to signify that he was my son.

I was more surprised and affected with this action, than with the tears of the cow; I felt a tender pity, which made me interest myself for him, or, rather, nature did its duty. Go, says I to the farmer, carry home that calf, take great care of him, and bring me another in his place immediately.

As soon as my wife heard me say so, she immediately cried out, What do you do, husband? Take my advice, sacrifice no other calf but that. Wife, says I, I will not sacrifice him; I will spare him, and pray do not you oppose it. The wicked woman had no regard to my desire; she hated my son too much to consent that I should save him. I tied the poor creature, and taking up the fatal knife --Here Scheherazade stopped, because she perceived daylight.

Then Dinarzade said, Sister, I am enchanted with this story, which so agreeably calls for my attention. If the sultan will suffer me to live to-day, answers Scheherazade, what I have to tell to-morrow will divert you abundantly more. Schahriar, curious to know what would become of the old man’s son that led the hind, told the sultaness he would be very glad to hear the end of that story next night.

FIFTH NIGHT.

When day began to draw near, Dinarzade put her sister’s orders in execution very exactly, who, being awaked, prayed the sultan to allow her to give Dinarzade that satisfaction; which the prince, who took so much pleasure in the story himself, willingly agreed to.

Sir, then, says Scheherazade, the first old man who lead the hind, continuing his story to the genie, to the other two old men, and the merchant, proceeded thus: I took the knife, says he, and was going to strike it into my son’s throat; when turning his eyes bathed with tears, in a languishing manner towards me, he affected me so that I had no strength to sacrifice him, but let the knife fall, and told my wife positively that I would have another calf to sacrifice, and not that. She used all endeavours to make me change my resolution; but I continued firm, and pacified her a little, by promising that I would sacrifice him against the Bairam next year.

Next morning my farmer desired to speak with me alone, and told me, I come, says he, to tell you a piece of news, for which I hope you will return me thanks. I have a daughter that has some skill in magic. Yesterday, as I carried back the calf which you would not sacrifice, I perceived she laughed when she saw him, and in a moment after fell a weeping. I asked her why she acted two such contrary parts at one and the same time. Father, replied she, the calf you bring back is our landlord’s son: I laughed for joy to see him still alive, and I wept at the remembrance of the sacrifice that was made the other day of his mother, who was changed into a cow. These two metamorphoses were made by the enchantments of our master’s wife, who hated both the mother and son. This is what my daughter told me, said the farmer, and I come to acquaint you with it.

At these words, the old man adds, I leave you to think, my lord genie, how much I was surprised: I went immediately to my farmer, to speak with his daughter myself. As soon as I came, I went forthwith to the stall where my son was: he could not answer my embraces, but received them in such a manner as fully satisfied me he was my son.

The former’s daughter came: My good maid, says I, can you restore my son to his former shape? Yes, says she, I can. Ah! says I, if you can, I will make you mistress of all my fortune. She replied to me, smiling, You are our master, and I know very well what I owe to you; but I cannot restore your son into his former shape but on two conditions: the first is, that you give him me for my husband; and the second is, that you allow me to punish the person who changed him into a calf. For the first, says I, I agree to it with all my heart; nay, I promise you more --a considerable estate for yourself, independent of what I design for my son: in a word, you shall see how I will reward the great service I expect from you. As to what relates to my wife, I also agree to it; a person who has been capable of committing such a criminal action deserves very well to be punished: I leave her to you, only I must pray you not to take her life. I am just going then, answers she, to treat her as she has treated your son. I agree to it, says I, provided you restore my son to me beforehand.

Then the damsel took a vessel full of water, pronounced over it words that I did not understand, and, addressing herself to the calf, O, calf, says she, if thou wast created by the almighty and sovereign Master of the World such as you appear at this time, continue in that form; but, if thou be a man, and art changed into a calf by enchantment, return to thy natural shape, by the permission of the sovereign Creator. As she spoke these words, she threw water upon him, and in an instant, he recovered his first shape.

My son, my dear son, cried I, immediately embracing him, with such a transport of joy that I knew not what I was doing: it is Heaven that has sent us this young maid, to take off the horrible charm by which you were enchanted, and to avenge the injury done to you and your mother. I doubt not but, in acknowledgment, you will take your deliverer to wife, as I have promised. He consented to it with joy: but, before they married, she changed my wife into a hind; and this is she whom you see here. I desired she should have this shape, rather than another less agreeable, that we might see her in the family without horror.

Since that time, my son is become a widower, and gone to travel; and, it being several years since I heard of him, I am come abroad to inquire after him; and not being willing to trust any body with my wife till I should come home, I thought fit to carry her every where with me. This is the history of myself and this hind: is it not one of the most wonderful and surprising that can be? --I agree to it, says the genie, and upon that account I forgive the merchant the third of his crime.

When the first old man, sir, continued the sultaness, had finished his story, the second, who led the two black dogs, addressed himself to the genie, and says to him: I am going to tell you what happened to me and those two black dogs you see by me, and I am certain you will say that my story is yet more surprising than that which you have just now heard; but, when I have told it you, I hope you will be pleased to pardon the merchant the second third of his crime. Yes, replies the genie, provided your story surpass that of the hind. Then the second old man began in this manner. But, as Scheherazade pronounced these words, she saw it was day, and left off speaking.

O, heaven! sister, says Dinarzade, these adventures are very singular. Sister, replies the sultaness, they are not comparable to those which I have to tell you next night, if the sultan, my lord and master, be so good as to let me live. Schahriar answered nothing to that; but rose up, said his prayers, and went to council, without giving any order against the life of the charming Scheherazade.

SIXTH NIGHT.

The sixth night being come, the sultan and his lady went to bed. Dinarzade awaked at the usual hour, and, calling to the sultaness, says, Dear sister, if you be not asleep, I pray you, until it be day, to satisfy my curiosity: I am impatient to hear the story of the old man and the two black dogs. The sultan consented to it with pleasure, being no less desirous to know the story than Dinarzade; and Scheherazade continued it as follows:

The Story of the second Old Man and the two Black Dogs.

Great prince of genii, says the old man, you must know that we are three brothers, I and the two black dogs you see. Our father, when he died, left each of us one thousand sequins. With that sum we all entered into the same way of living, and became merchants. A little time after we had opened shop, my eldest brother, one of these two dogs, resolved to travel, and trade in foreign countries. With this view, he sold his estate, and bought goods proper for the trade he intended.

He went away, and was absent a whole year; at the end of which, a poor man, who I thought had come to ask alms, presented himself before me in my shop. I said to him, God help you. God help you also, answered he: is it possible you do not know me? Upon this I looked at him narrowly, and knew him. Ah, brother, cried I, embracing him, how could I know you in this condition? I made him come into my house, and asked him concerning his health and the success of his travels. Do not ask me that question, says he: when you see me, you see all: it would only renew my grief to tell you all the particulars of the misfortunes that have befallen me, and reduced me to this condition, since I left you.

I immediately shut up my shop, and carrying him to a bath, gave him the best clothes I had by me; and, examining my books, and finding that I had doubled my stock, that is to say, that I was worth two thousand sequins, I gave him one half: With that, says I, brother, you may make up your loss. He joyfully accepted the proffer, recovered himself, and we lived together as before.

Some time after, my second brother, who is the other of these two dogs, would also sell his estate. I, and his other brother, did all we could to divert him from it, but without effect. He sold it, and with the money bought such goods as were suitable to the trade he designed. He joined a caravan, and took a journey. He returned, at the end of the year, in the same condition as my other brother; and I, having gained another thousand sequins, gave him them, with which he furnished his shop, and continued to follow his trade.

Some time after, one of my brothers came to me to propose a trading voyage with them. I immediately rejected their proposal. You have travelled, says I, and what have you gained by it? Who can assure me that I shall be more successful than you have been. They represented to me, in vain, all that they thought fit, to prevail upon me to engage in that design with them, for I constantly refused: but they importuned me so much, that after having resisted their solicitations five whole years, they overcame me at last. But, when we were to make preparations for our voyage, and to buy goods necessary to the undertaking, I found they had spent all, and that they had not one farthing left of the thousand sequins I had given each of them. I did not, however, upbraid them in the least. On the contrary, my stock being six thousand sequins, I shared the half of it with them, telling them, My brothers, we must venture these three thousand sequins, and hide the rest in some sure place; that, in case our voyage be no more successful than your’s was formerly, we may have wherewith to assist us, and to follow our ancient way of living. I gave each of them a thousand sequins, and, keeping as much for myself, I buried the other three thousand in a corner of my house. We bought our goods, and, after having embarked them on board of a vessel, which we freighted betwixt us three, we put to sea, with a favourable wind. After a month’s sail --But I see day, says Scheherazade; I must stop here.

Sister, says Dinarzade, this story promises a great deal; I fancy the rest of it must be very extraordinary. You are not mistaken, says the sultaness; and, if the sultan will allow me to tell it you, I am persuaded, it will very much divert you. Schahriar got up, as he did the day before, without explaining his mind, but gave no order to the grand vizier to kill his daughter.

SEVENTH NIGHT.

When the seventh night drew near a close, Dinarzade awaked the sultaness, and prayed her to continue the story of the second old man. I will, answered Scheherazade, provided the sultan, my lord and master, does not oppose it. Not at all, says Schahriar; I am so far from opposing it, that I desire you earnestly to go on with it.

To resume the thread of the story, says Scheherazade, you must know, that the old man who led the two dogs, continued his story to the genie, the other two old men, and the merchant, thus: In short, says he, after two months’ sail, we arrived happily at port, where we landed and had a very great vent for our goods. I, especially, sold mine so well, that I gamed ten to one, and we bought commodities of that country, to transport and sell in our own.

When we were ready to embark, in order to return, I met upon the bank of the sea a lady, handsome enough, but poorly clad. She came up to me presently, kissed my hand, prayed me, with the greatest earnestness imaginable, to marry her, and take her along with me. I made some difficulty to agree to it; but she said so many things to persuade me that I ought to make no objection to her poverty, and that I should have all the reason in the world to be satisfied with her conduct, that I yielded. I ordered proper apparel to be made for her; and after having married her, according to form, I took her on board, and we set sail. During the navigation, I found the wife I had taken had so many good qualities, that I loved her every day more and more. In the mean time, my two brothers, who had not managed their affairs so well as I did mine, envied my prosperity; and their fury carried them so far as to conspire against my life; so that, one night, when my wife and I were asleep, they threw us both into the sea.

My wife was a fairy, and, by consequence, a genie, you know well she could not be drowned; but for me, it is certain I had been lost without her help. I had scarce fallen into the water when she took me up, and carried me to an island. When it was day, the fairy said to me, You see, husband, that, by saving your life, I have not rewarded you ill for your kindness to me. You must know, that I am a fairy, and that, being upon the bank of the sea when you were going to embark, I found I had a strong inclination for you: I had a mind to try your goodness, and presented myself before you in that disguise wherein you saw me. You have dealt very generously with me, and I am very glad to have found an opportunity of testifying my acknowledgment to you. But I am incensed against your brothers, and nothing will satisfy me but their lives.

I listened to this discourse of the fairy with admiration; I thanked her, as well as I could, for the great kindness she had done me: but, madam, says I, as for my brothers, I beg you to pardon them; whatever cause they have given me, I am not cruel enough to desire their death. I told her the particulars of what I had done for them, which increased her indignation so that she cried out, I must immediately pursue those ungrateful traitors, and take speedy vengeance on them: I will drown their vessel, and throw them into the bottom of the sea. No, my good lady, replied I, for Heaven’s sake, do not so; moderate your anger; consider that they are my brothers, and that we must do good for evil.

I pacified the fairy by those words; and, as soon as I had spoken them, she transported me, in a moment, from the island where we were to the roof of my own house, which was terrassed, and disappeared in a moment. I went down, opened the doors, and dug up the three thousand sequins I had hid. I went afterwards to the place where my shop was, which I also opened; and was complimented by the merchants, my neighbours, upon my return. When I went to my house, I perceived two black dogs, which came to me in a very submissive manner: I knew not what it meant, but was much astonished at it. But the fairy, who appeared immediately, says to me, husband, be not surprised to see these two black dogs by you; they are your two brothers. I was troubled at these words, and asked her by what power they were so transformed. It was I who did it, says she; at least, I gave commission to one of my sisters to do it, who at the same time sunk their ship. You have lost the goods you had on board, but I will make it up to you another way. As to your two brothers, I have condemned them to remain five years in that shape: their perfidiousness too well deserves such a penance. And, in short, after having told me where I might hear of her, she disappeared.

Now, the five years being out, I am travelling in quest of her; and, as I passed this way, I met this merchant and the good old man that led the hind, and sat down by them. This is my history, O prince of genii! do not you think it very extraordinary? I own it, says the genie; and, upon that account, I remit the merchant the second third of the crime which he committed against me.

As soon as the second old man had finished his story, the third began, and made the like request of the genie with the two first; that is to say, to pardon the merchant the other third of his crime, provided the story he had to tell him exceeded the two he had already heard for singular events. The genie made him the same promise as he had done the other two. Hearken, then, says the old man to him --but day appears, says Scheherazade; I must stop here.

I cannot enough admire, sister, says Dinarzade, the adventures you have told me. I know abundance more, says the sultaness, that are still more wonderful. Schahriar, willing to know if the story of the third old man would be as agreeable as that of the second, put off the execution of Scheherazade till the next day.

EIGHTH NIGHT.

As soon as Dinarzade perceived it was time to call the sultaness, she says, sister, I have been awake a long time, and had a great mind to awake you, I am so impatient to hear the story of the third old man. The sultan answered, I can hardly think that the third story will surpass the two former ones.

Sir, replies the sultaness, the third old man told his story to the genie: I cannot tell it to you, because it is not come to my knowledge; but I know that it did so much exceed the two former stories, in the variety of wonderful adventures, that the genie was astonished at it, and no sooner heard the end of it, but he said to the third old man, I remit the other third part of the merchant’s crime upon the account of your story. He is very much obliged to all three of you for having delivered him out of this danger, by your stories, without which he had not now been in the world. And, having spoke thus, he disappeared to the great contentment of the company.

The merchant failed not to give his three deliverers the thanks he owed them. They rejoiced to see him out of danger; after which they bade him adieu, and each of them went on his way. The merchant returned to his wife and children, and passed the rest of his days with them in peace. But, sir, added Scheherazade, now pleasant soever these stories may be, that I have told your majesty hitherto, they do not come near that of the fisherman. Dinarzade, perceiving that the sultaness demurred, says to her, sister, since there is still some time remaining, pray tell us the story of the fisherman, if the sultan is willing. Schahriar agreed to it; and Scheherazade, resuming her discourse, pursued it in this manner:

The Story of the Fisherman.