Amiga CD32/Amiga CD32 1994 - Brilliant PD Games.iso/literature/50.arab.1

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The Arabian Nights Entertainments,
Selected and Edited by Andrew Lang





Preface


The stories in the Fairy Books have generally been
such as old women in country places tell to their
grandchildren.  Nobody knows how old they are, or
who told them first.  The children of Ham, Shem
and Japhet may have listened to them in the Ark,
on wet days.  Hector's little boy may have heard
them in Troy Town, for it is certain that Homer
knew them, and that some of them were written down
in Egypt about the time of Moses.

People in different countries tell them
differently, but they are always the same stories,
really, whether among little Zulus, at the Cape,
or little Eskimo, near the North Pole.  The
changes are only in matters of manners and
customs; such as wearing clothes or not, meeting
lions who talk in the warm countries, or talking
bears in the cold countries.  There are plenty of
kings and queens in the fairy tales, just because
long ago there were plenty of kings in the
country.  A gentleman who would be a squire now
was a kind of king in Scotland in very old times,
and the same in other places.  These old stories,
never forgotten, were taken down in writing in
different ages, but mostly in this century, in all
sorts of languages.  These ancient stories are the
contents of the Fairy books.

Now "The Arabian Nights," some of which, but not
nearly all, are given in this volume, are only
fairy tales of the East.  The people of Asia,
Arabia, and Persia told them in their own way, not
for children, but for grown-up people.  There were
no novels then, nor any printed books, of course;
but there were people whose profession it was to
amuse men and women by telling tales.  They
dressed the fairy stories up, and made the
characters good Mahommedans, living in Bagdad or
India.  The events were often supposed to happen
in the reign of the great Caliph, or ruler of the
Faithful, Haroun al Raschid, who lived in Bagdad
in 786-808 A.D.  The vizir who accompanies the
Caliph was also a real person of the great family
of the Barmecides.  He was put to death by the
Caliph in a very cruel way, nobody ever knew why.
The stories must have been told in their present
shape a good long while after the Caliph died,
when nobody knew very exactly what had really
happened.  At last some storyteller thought of
writing down the tales, and fixing them into a
kind of framework, as if they had all been
narrated to a cruel Sultan by his wife.  Probably
the tales were written down about the time when
Edward I.  was fighting Robert Bruce.  But changes
were made in them at different times, and a great
deal that is very dull and stupid was put in, and
plenty of verses.  Neither the verses nor the dull
pieces are given in this book.

People in France and England knew almost nothing
about "The Arabian Nights" till the reigns of
Queen Anne and George I., when they were
translated into French by Monsieur Galland.
Grown-up people were then very fond of fairy
tales, and they thought these Arab stories the
best that they had ever read.  They were delighted
with Ghouls (who lived among the tombs) and Geni,
who seemed to be a kind of ogres, and with
Princesses who work magic spells, and with Peris,
who are Arab fairies.  Sindbad had adventures
which perhaps came out of the Odyssey of Homer; in
fact, all the East had contributed its wonders,
and sent them to Europe in one parcel.  Young men
once made a noise at Monsieur Galland's windows in
the dead of night, and asked him to tell them one
of his marvellous tales.  Nobody talked of
anything but dervishes and vizirs, rocs and peris.
The stories were translated from French into all
languages, and only Bishop Atterbury complained
that the tales were not likely to be true, and had
no moral.  The bishops was presently banished for
being on the side of Prince Charlie's father, and
had leisure to repent of being so solemn.

In this book "The Arabian Nights" are translated
from the French version of Monsieur Galland, who
dropped out the poetry and a great deal of what
the Arabian authors thought funny, though it seems
wearisome to us.  In this book the stories are
shortened here and there, and omissions are made
of pieces only suitable for Arabs and old
gentlemen.  The translations are by the writers of
the tales in the Fairy Books, and the pictures are
by Mr.  Ford.

I can remember reading "The Arabian Nights" when I
was six years old, in dirty yellow old volumes of
small type with no pictures, and I hope children
who read them with Mr.  Ford's pictures will be as
happy as I was then in the company of Aladdin and
Sindbad the Sailor.



The Arabian Nights


In the chronicles of the ancient dynasty of the
Sassanidae, who reigned for about four hundred
years, from Persia to the borders of China, beyond
the great river Ganges itself, we read the praises
of one of the kings of this race, who was said to
be the best monarch of his time.  His subjects
loved him, and his neighbors feared him, and when
he died he left his kingdom in a more prosperous
and powerful condition than any king had done
before him.

The two sons who survived him loved each other
tenderly, and it was a real grief to the elder,
Schahriar, that the laws of the empire forbade him
to share his dominions with his brother
Schahzeman.  Indeed, after ten years, during which
this state of things had not ceased to trouble
him, Schahriar cut off the country of Great
Tartary from the Persian Empire and made his
brother king.

Now the Sultan Schahriar had a wife whom he loved
more than all the world, and his greatest
happiness was to surround her with splendour, and
to give her the finest dresses and the most
beautiful jewels.  It was therefore with the
deepest shame and sorrow that he accidentally
discovered, after several years, that she had
deceived him completely, and her whole conduct
turned out to have been so bad, that he felt
himself obliged to carry out the law of the land,
and order the grand-vizir to put her to death.
The blow was so heavy that his mind almost gave
way, and he declared that he was quite sure that
at bottom all women were as wicked as the sultana,
if you could only find them out, and that the
fewer the world contained the better.  So every
evening he married a fresh wife and had her
strangled the following morning before the
grand-vizir, whose duty it was to provide these
unhappy brides for the Sultan.  The poor man
fulfilled his task with reluctance, but there was
no escape, and every day saw a girl married and a
wife dead.

This behaviour caused the greatest horror in the
town, where nothing was heard but cries and
lamentations.  In ne house was a father weeping
for the loss of his daughter, in another perhaps a
mother trembling for the fate of her child; and
instead of the blessings that had formerly been
heaped on the Sultan's head, the air was now full
of curses.

The grand-vizir himself was the father of two
daughters, of whom the elder was called
Scheherazade, and the younger Dinarzade.
Dinarzade had no particular gifts to distinguish
her from other girls, but her sister was clever
and courageous in the highest degree.  Her father
had given her the best masters in philosophy,
medicine, history and the fine arts, and besides
all this, her beauty excelled that of any girl in
the kingdom of Persia.

One day, when the grand-vizir was talking to his
eldest daughter, who was his delight and pride,
Scheherazade said to him, "Father, I have a favour
to ask of you.  Will you grant it to me?"

"I can refuse you nothing," replied he, "that is
just and reasonable."

"Then listen," said Scheherazade.  "I am
determined to stop this barbarous practice of the
Sultan's, and to deliver the girls and mothers
from the awful fate that hangs over them."

"It would be an excellent thing to do," returned
the grand-vizir, "but how do you propose to
accomplish it?"

"My father," answered Scheherazade, "it is you who
have to provide the Sultan daily with a fresh
wife, and I implore you, by all the affection you
bear me, to allow the honour to fall upon me."

"Have you lost your senses?" cried the
grand-vizir, starting back in horror.  "What has
put such a thing into your head?  You ought to
know by this time what it means to be the sultan's
bride!"

"Yes, my father, I know it well," replied she,
"and I am not afraid to think of it.  If I fail,
my death will be a glorious one, and if I succeed
I shall have done a great service to my country."

"It is of no use," said the grand-vizir, "I shall
never consent.  If the Sultan was to order me to
plunge a dagger in your heart, I should have to
obey.  What a task for a father!  Ah, if you do
not fear death, fear at any rate the anguish you
would cause me."

"Once again, my father," said Scheherazade, "will
you grant me what I ask?"

"What, are you still so obstinate?" exclaimed the
grand-vizir.  "Why are you so resolved upon your
own ruin?"

But the maiden absolutely refused to attend to her
father's words, and at length, in despair, the
grand-vizir was obliged to give way, and went
sadly to the palace to tell the Sultan that the
following evening he would bring him Scheherazade.

The Sultan received this news with the greatest
astonishment.

"How have you made up your mind," he asked, "to
sacrifice your own daughter to me?"

"Sire," answered the grand-vizir, "it is her own
wish.  Even the sad fate that awaits her could not
hold her back."

"Let there be no mistake, vizir," said the Sultan.
"Remember you will have to take her life yourself.
If you refuse, I swear that your head shall pay
forfeit."

"Sire," returned the vizir.  "Whatever the cost, I
will obey you.  Though a father, I am also your
subject." So the Sultan told the grand-vizir he
might bring his daughter as soon as he liked.

The vizir took back this news to Scheherazade, who
received it as if it had been the most pleasant
thing in the world.  She thanked her father warmly
for yielding to her wishes, and, seeing him still
bowed down with grief, told him that she hoped he
would never repent having allowed her to marry the
Sultan.  Then she went to prepare herself for the
marriage, and begged that her sister Dinarzade
should be sent for to speak to her.

When they were alone, Scheherazade addressed her
thus:

"My dear sister; I want your help in a very
important affair.  My father is going to take me
to the palace to celebrate my marriage with the
Sultan.  When his Highness receives me, I shall
beg him, as a last favour, to let you sleep in our
chamber, so that I may have your company during
the last night I am alive.  If, as I hope, he
grants me my wish, be sure that you wake me an
hour before the dawn, and speak to me in these
words:  "My sister, if you are not asleep, I beg
you, before the sun rises, to tell me one of your
charming stories." Then I shall begin, and I hope
by this means to deliver the people from the
terror that reigns over them." Dinarzade replied
that she would do with pleasure what her sister
wished.

When the usual hour arrived the grand-vizir
conducted Scheherazade to the palace, and left her
alone with the Sultan, who bade her raise her veil
and was amazed at her beauty.  But seeing her eyes
full of tears, he asked what was the matter.
"Sire," replied Scheherazade, "I have a sister who
loves me as tenderly as I love her.  Grant me the
favour of allowing her to sleep this night in the
same room, as it is the last we shall be
together." Schahriar consented to Scheherazade's
petition and Dinarzade was sent for.

An hour before daybreak Dinarzade awoke, and
exclaimed, as she had promised, "My dear sister,
if you are not asleep, tell me I pray you, before
the sun rises, one of your charming stories.  It
is the last time that I shall have the pleasure of
hearing you."

Scheherazade did not answer her sister, but turned
to the Sultan.  "Will your highness permit me to
do as my sister asks?" said she.

"Willingly," he answered.  So Scheherazade began.



The Story of the Merchant and the Genius


Sire, there was once upon a time a merchant who
possessed great wealth, in land and merchandise,
as well as in ready money.  He was obliged from
time to time to take journeys to arrange his
affairs.  One day, having to go a long way from
home, he mounted his horse, taking with him a
small wallet in which he had put a few biscuits
and dates, because he had to pass through the
desert where no food was to be got.  He arrived
without any mishap, and, having finished his
business, set out on his return.  On the fourth
day of his journey, the heat of the sun being very
great, he turned out of his road to rest under
some trees.  He found at the foot of a large
walnut-tree a fountain of clear and running water.
He dismounted, fastened his horse to a branch of
the tree, and sat by the fountain, after having
taken from his wallet some of his dates and
biscuits.  When he had finished this frugal mean
he washed his face and hands in the fountain.

When he was thus employed he saw an enormous
genius, white with rage, coming towards him, with
a scimitar in his hand.

"Arise," he cried in a terrible voice, "and let me
kill you as you have killed my son!"

As he uttered these words he gave a frightful
yell.  The merchant, quite as much terrified at
the hideous face of the monster as at his words,
answered him tremblingly, "Alas, good sir, what
can I have done to you to deserve death?"

"I shall kill you," repeated the genius, "as you
have killed my son."

"But," said the merchant, "How can I have killed
your son?  I do not know him, and I have never
even seen him."

"When you arrived here did you not sit down on the
ground?" asked the genius, "and did you not take
some dates from your wallet, and whilst eating
them did not you throw the stones about?"

"Yes," said the merchant, "I certainly did so."

"Then," said the genius, "I tell you you have
killed my son, for whilst you were throwing about
the stones, my son passed by, and one of them
struck him in the eye and killed him.  So I shall
kill you."

"Ah, sir, forgive me!" cried the merchant.

"I will have no mercy on you," answered the
genius.

"But I killed your son quite unintentionally, so I
implore you to spare my life."

"No," said the genius, "I shall kill you as you
killed my son," and so saying, he seized the
merchant by the arm, threw him on the ground, and
lifted his sabre to cut off his head.

The merchant, protesting his innocence, bewailed
his wife and children, and tried pitifully to
avert his fate.  The genius, with his raised
scimitar, waited till he had finished, bit was not
in the least touched.

Scheherazade, at this point, seeing that it was
day, and knowing that the Sultan always rose very
early to attend the council, stopped speaking.

"Indeed, sister," said Dinarzade, "this is a
wonderful story."

"The rest is still more wonderful," replied
Scheherazade, "and you would say so, if the sultan
would allow me to live another day, and would give
me leave to tell it to you the next night."

Schahriar, who had been listening to Scheherazade
with pleasure, said to himself, "I will wait till
to-morrow; I can always have her killed when I
have heard the end of her story."

All this time the grand-vizir was in a terrible
state of anxiety.  But he was much delighted when
he saw the Sultan enter the council-chamber
without giving the terrible command that he was
expecting.

The next morning, before the day broke, Dinarzade
said to her sister, "Dear sister, if you are awake
I pray you to go on with your story."

The Sultan did not wait for Scheherazade to ask
his leave.  "Finish," said he, "the story of the
genius and the merchant.  I am curious to hear the
end."

So Scheherazade went on with the story.  This
happened every morning.  The Sultana told a story,
and the Sultan let her live to finish it.

When the merchant saw that the genius was
determined to cut off his head, he said:  "One
word more, I entreat you.  Grant me a little
delay; just a short time to go home and bid my
wife and children farewell, and to make my will.
When I have done this I will come back here, and
you shall kill me."

"But," said the genius, "if I grant you the delay
you ask, I am afraid that you will not come back."

"I give you my word of honour," answered the
merchant, "that I will come back without fail."

"How long do you require?" asked the genius.

"I ask you for a year's grace," replied the
merchant.  "I promise you that to-morrow
twelvemonth, I shall be waiting under these trees
to give myself up to you."

On this the genius left him near the fountain and
disappeared.

The merchant, having recovered from his fright,
mounted his horse and went on his road.

When he arrived home his wife and children
received him with the greatest joy.  But instead
of embracing them he began to weep so bitterly
that they soon guessed that something terrible was
the matter.

"Tell us, I pray you," said his wife, "what has
happened."

"Alas!" answered her husband, "I have only a year
to live."

Then he told them what had passed between him and
the genius, and how he had given his word to
return at the end of a year to be killed.  When
they heard this sad news they were in despair, and
wept much.

The next day the merchant began to settle his
affairs, and first of all to pay his debts.  He
gave presents to his friends, and large alms to
the poor.  He set his slaves at liberty, and
provided for his wife and children.  The year soon
passed away, and he was obliged to depart.  When
he tried to say good-bye he was quite overcome
with grief, and with difficulty tore himself away.
At length he reached the place where he had first
seen the genius, on the very day that he had
appointed.  He dismounted, and sat down at the
edge of the fountain, where he awaited the genius
in terrible suspense.

Whilst he was thus waiting an old man leading a
hind came towards him.  They greeted one another,
and then the old man said to him, "May I ask,
brother, what brought you to this desert place,
where there are so many evil genii about?  To see
these beautiful trees one would imagine it was
inhabited, but it is a dangerous place to stop
long in."

The merchant told the old man why he was obliged
to come there.  He listened in astonishment.

"This is a most marvellous affair.  I should like
to be a witness of your interview with the
genius." So saying he sat down by the merchant.

While they were talking another old man came up,
followed by two black dogs.  He greeted them, and
asked what they were doing in this place.  The old
man who was leading the hind told him the
adventure of the merchant and the genius.  The
second old man had not sooner heard the story than
he, too, decided to stay there to see what would
happen.  He sat down by the others, and was
talking, when a third old man arrived.  He asked
why the merchant who was with them looked so sad.
They told him the story, and he also resolved to
see what would pass between the genius and the
merchant, so waited with the rest.

They soon saw in the distance a thick smoke, like
a cloud of dust.  This smoke came nearer and
nearer, and then, all at once, it vanished, and
they saw the genius, who, without speaking to
them, approached the merchant, sword in hand, and,
taking him by the arm, said, "Get up and let me
kill you as you killed my son."

The merchant and the three old men began to weep
and groan.

Then the old man leading the hind threw himself at
the monster's feet and said, "O Prince of the
Genii, I beg of you to stay your fury and to
listen to me.  I am going to tell you my story and
that of the hind I have with me, and if you find
it more marvellous than that of the merchant whom
you are about to kill, I hope that you will do
away with a third part of his punishment?"

The genius considered some time, and then he said,
"Very well, I agree to this."



The Story of the First Old Man and of the Hind


I am now going to begin my story (said the old
man), so please attend.

This hind that you see with me is my wife.  We
have no children of our own, therefore I adopted
the son of a favorite slave, and determined to
make him my heir.

My wife, however, took a great dislike to both
mother and child, which she concealed from me till
too late.  When my adopted son was about ten years
old I was obliged to go on a journey.  Before I
went I entrusted to my wife's keeping both the
mother and child, and begged her to take care of
them during my absence, which lasted a whole year.
During this time she studied magic in order to
carry out her wicked scheme.  When she had learnt
enough she took my son into a distant place and
changed him into a calf.  Then she gave him to my
steward, and told him to look after a calf she had
bought.  She also changed the slave into a cow,
which she sent to my steward.

When I returned I inquired after my slave and the
child.  "Your slave is dead," she said, "and as
for your son, I have not seen him for two months,
and I do not know where he is."

I was grieved to hear of my slave's death, but as
my son had only disappeared, I thought I should
soon find him.  Eight months, however, passed, and
still no tidings of him; then the feast of Bairam
came.

To celebrate it I ordered my steward to bring me a
very fat cow to sacrifice.  He did so.  The cow
that he brought was my unfortunate slave.  I bound
her, but just as I was about to kill her she began
to low most piteously, and I saw that her eyes
were streaming with tears.  It seemed to me most
extraordinary, and, feeling a movement of pity, I
ordered the steward to lead her away and bring
another.  My wife, who was present, scoffed at my
compassion, which made her malice of no avail.
"What are you doing?" she cried.  "Kill this cow.
It is the best we have to sacrifice."

To please her, I tried again, but again the
animal's lows and tears disarmed me.

"Take her away," I said to the steward, "and kill
her; I cannot."

The steward killed her, but on skinning her found
that she was nothing but bones, although she
appeared so fat.  I was vexed.

"Keep her for yourself," I said to the steward,
"and if you have a fat calf, bring that in her
stead."

In a short time he brought a very fat calf, which,
although I did not know it, was my son.  It tried
hard to break its cord and come to me.  It threw
itself at my feet, with its head on the ground, as
if it wished to excite my pity, and to beg me not
to take away its life.

I was even more surprised and touched at this
action than I had been at the tears of the cow.

"Go," I said to the steward, "take back this calf,
take great care of it, and bring me another in its
place instantly."

As soon as my wife heard me speak this she at once
cried out, "What are you doing, husband?  Do not
sacrifice any calf but this."

"Wife," I answered, "I will not sacrifice this
calf," and in spite of all her remonstrances, I
remained firm.

I had another calf killed; this one was led away.
The next day the steward asked to speak to me in
private.

"I have come," he said, "to tell you some news
which I think you will like to hear.  I have a
daughter who knows magic.  Yesterday, when I was
leading back the calf which you refused to
sacrifice, I noticed that she smiled, and then
directly afterwards began to cry.  I asked her why
she did so."

"Father," she answered, "this calf is the son of
our master.  I smile with joy at seeing him still
alive, and I weep to think of his mother, who was
sacrificed yesterday as a cow.  These changes have
been wrought by our master's wife, who hated the
mother and son."

"At these words, of Genius," continued the old
man, "I leave you to imagine my astonishment.  I
went immediately with the steward to speak with
his daughter myself.  First of all I went to the
stable to see my son, and he replied in his dumb
way to all my caresses.  When the steward's
daughter came I asked her if she could change my
son back to his proper shape."

"Yes, I can," she replied, "on two conditions.
One is that you will give him to me for a husband,
and the other is that you will let me punish the
woman who changed him into a calf."

"To the first condition," I answered, "I agree
with all my heart, and I will give you an ample
dowry.  To the second I also agree, I only beg you
to spare her life."

"That I will do," she replied; "I will treat her
as she treated your son."

Then she took a vessel of water and pronounced
over it some words I did not understand; then, on
throwing the water over him, he became immediately
a young man once more.

"My son, my dear son," I exclaimed, kissing him in
a transport of joy.  "This kind maiden has rescued
you from a terrible enchantment, and I am sure
that out of gratitude you will marry her."

He consented joyfully, but before they were
married, the young girl changed my wife into a
hind, and it is she whom you see before you.  I
wished her to have this form rather than a
stranger one, so that we could see her in the
family without repugnance.

Since then my son has become a widower and has
gone travelling.  I am now going in search of him,
and not wishing to confide my wife to the care of
other people, I am taking her with me.  Is this
not a most marvellous tale?

"It is indeed," said the genius, "and because of
it I grant to you the third part of the punishment
of this merchant."

When the first old man had finished his story, the
second, who was leading the two black dogs, said
to the genius, "I am going to tell you what
happened to me, and I am sure that you will find
my story even more astonishing than the one to
which you have just been listening.  But when I
have related it, will you grant me also the third
part of the merchant's punishment?"

"Yes," replied the genius, "provided that your
story surpasses that of the hind."

With this agreement the second old man began in
this way.



The Story of the Second Old Man, and of the Two Black Dogs


Great prince of the genii, you must know that we
are three brothers-- these two black dogs and
myself.  Our father died, leaving us each a
thousand sequins.  With this sum we all three took
up the same profession, and became merchants.  A
short time after we had opened our shops, my
eldest brother, one of these two dogs, resolved to
travel in foreign countries for the sake of
merchandise.  With this intention he sold all he
had and bought merchandise suitable to the voyages
he was about to make.  He set out, and was away a
whole year.  At the end of this time a beggar came
to my shop.  "Good-day," I said.  "Good-day," he
answered; "is it possible that you do not
recognise me?" Then I looked at him closely and
saw he was my brother.  I made him come into my
house, and asked him how he had fared in his
enterprise.

"Do not question me," he replied, "see me, you see
all I have.  It would but renew my trouble to tell
of all the misfortunes that have befallen me in a
year, and have brought me to this state."

I shut up my shop, paid him every attention,
taking him to the bath, giving him my most
beautiful robes.  I examined my accounts, and
found that I had doubled my capital--that is, that
I now possessed two thousand sequins.  I gave my
brother half, saying:  "Now, brother, you can
forget your losses." He accepted them with joy,
and we lived together as we had before.

Some time afterwards my second brother wished also
to sell his business and travel.  My eldest
brother and I did all we could to dissuade him,
but it was of no use.  He joined a caravan and set
out.  He came back at the end of a year in the
same state as his elder brother.  I took care of
him, and as I had a thousand sequins to spare I
gave them to him, and he re-opened his shop.

One day, my two brothers came to me to propose
that we should make a journey and trade.  At first
I refused to go.  "You travelled," I said, "and
what did you gain?" But they came to me
repeatedly, and after having held out for five
years I at last gave way.  But when they had made
their preparation, and they began to buy the
merchandise we needed, they found they had spent
every piece of the thousand sequins I had given
them.  I did not reproach them.  I divided my six
thousand sequins with them, giving a thousand to
each and keeping one for myself, and the other
three I buried in a corner of my house.  We bought
merchandise, loaded a vessel with it, and set
forth with a favorable wind.

After two months' sailing we arrived at a seaport,
where we disembarked and did a great trade.  Then
we bought the merchandise of the country, and were
just going to sail once more, when I was stopped
on the shore by a beautiful though poorly dressed
woman.  She came up to me, kissed my hand, and
implored me to marry her, and take her on board.
At first I refused, but she begged so hard and
promised to be such a good wife to me, that at
last I consented.  I got her some beautiful
dresses, and after having married her, we embarked
and set sail.  During the voyage, I discovered so
many good qualities in my wife that I began to
lover her more and more.  But my brothers began to
be jealous of my prosperity, and set to work to
plot against my life.  One night when we were
sleeping they threw my wife and myself into the
sea.  My wife, however, was a fairy, and so she
did not let me drown, but transported me to an
island.  When the day dawned, she said to me,

"When I saw you on the sea-shore I took a great
fancy to you, and wished to try your good nature,
so I presented myself in the disguise you saw.
Now I have rewarded you by saving your life.  But
I am very angry with your brothers, and I shall
not rest till I have taken their lives."

I thanked the fairy for all that she had done for
me, but I begged her not to kill my brothers.

I appeased her wrath, and in a moment she
transported me from the island where we were to
the roof of my house, and she disappeared a moment
afterwards.  I went down, and opened the doors,
and dug up the three thousand sequins which I had
buried.  I went to the place where my shop was,
opened it, and received from my fellow-merchants
congratulations on my return.  When I went home, I
saw two black dogs who came to meet me with
sorrowful faces.  I was much astonished, but the
fairy who reappeared said to me,

"Do not be surprised to see these dogs; they are
your two brothers.  I have condemned them to
remain for ten years in these shapes." Then having
told me where I could hear news of her, she
vanished.

The ten years are nearly passed, and I am on the
road to find her.  As in passing I met this
merchant and the old man with the hind, I stayed
with them.

This is my history, O prince of genii!  Do you not
think it is a most marvellous one?

"Yes, indeed," replied the genius, "and I will
give up to you the third of the merchant's
punishment."

Then the third old man made the genius the same
request as the other two had done, and the genius
promised him the last third of the merchant's
punishment if his story surpassed both the others.

So he told his story to the genius, but I cannot
tell you what it was, as I do not know.

But I do know that it was even more marvellous
than either of the others, so that the genius was
astonished, and said to the third old man, "I will
give up to you the third part of the merchant's
punishment.  He ought to thank all three of you
for having interested yourselves in his favour.
But for you, he would be here no longer."

So saying, he disappeared, to the great joy of the
company.  The merchant did not fail to thank his
friends, and then each went on his way.  The
merchant returned to his wife and children, and
passed the rest of his days happily with them.

"But, sire," added Scheherazade, "however
beautiful are the stories I have just told you,
they cannot compare with the story of the
Fisherman."



The Story of the Fisherman


Sire, there was once upon a time a fisherman so
old and so poor that he could scarcely manage to
support his wife and three children.  He went
every day to fish very early, and each day he made
a rule not to throw his nets more than four times.
He started out one morning by moonlight and came
to the sea-shore.  He undressed and threw his
nets, and as he was drawing them towards the bank
he felt a great weight.  He though he had caught a
large fish, and he felt very pleased.  But a
moment afterwards, seeing that instead of a fish
he only had in his nets the carcase of an ass, he
was much disappointed.

Vexed with having such a bad haul, when he had
mended his nets, which the carcase of the ass had
broken in several places, he threw them a second
time.  In drawing them in he again felt a great
weight, so that he thought they were full of fish.
But he only found a large basket full of rubbish.
He was much annoyed.

"O Fortune," he cried, "do not trifle thus with
me, a poor fisherman, who can hardly support his
family!"

So saying, he threw away the rubbish, and after
having washed his nets clean of the dirt, he threw
them for the third time.  But he only drew in
stones, shells, and mud.  He was almost in
despair.

Then he threw his nets for the fourth time.  When
he thought he had a fish he drew them in with a
great deal of trouble.  There was no fish however,
but he found a yellow pot, which by its weight
seemed full of something, and he noticed that it
was fastened and sealed with lead, with the
impression of a seal.  He was delighted.  "I will
sell it to the founder," he said; "with the money
I shall get for it I shall buy a measure of
wheat."

He examined the jar on all sides; he shook it to
see if it would rattle.  But he heard nothing, and
so, judging from the impression of the seal and
the lid, he thought there must be something
precious inside.  To find out, he took his knife,
and with a little trouble he opened it.  He turned
it upside down, but nothing came out, which
surprised him very much.  He set it in front of
him, and whilst he was looking at it attentively,
such a thick smoke came out that he had to step
back a pace or two.  This smoke rose up to the
clouds, and stretching over the sea and the shore,
formed a thick mist, which caused the fisherman
much astonishment.  When all the smoke was out of
the jar it gathered itself together, and became a
thick mass in which appeared a genius, twice as
large as the largest giant.  When he saw such a
terrible-looking monster, the fisherman would like
to have run away, but he trembled so with fright
that he could not move a step.

"Great king of the genii," cried the monster, "I
will never again disobey you!"

At these words the fisherman took courage.

"What is this you are saying, great genius?  Tell
me your history and how you came to be shut up in
that vase."

At this, the genius looked at the fisherman
haughtily.  "Speak to me more civilly," he said,
"before I kill you."

"Alas!  why should you kill me?" cried the
fisherman.  "I have just freed you; have you
already forgotten that?"

"No," answered the genius; "but that will not
prevent me from killing you; and I am only going
to grant you one favour, and that is to choose the
manner of your death."

"But what have I done to you?" asked the
fisherman.

"I cannot treat you in any other way," said the
genius, "and if you would know why, listen to my
story.

"I rebelled against the king of the genii.  To
punish me, he shut me up in this vase of copper,
and he put on the leaden cover his seal, which is
enchantment enough to prevent my coming out.  Then
he had the vase thrown into the sea.  During the
first period of my captivity I vowed that if
anyone should free me before a hundred years were
passed, I would make him rich even after his
death.  But that century passed, and no one freed
me.  In the second century I vowed that I would
give all the treasures in the world to my
deliverer; but he never came.

"In the third, I promised to make him a king, to
be always near him, and to grant him three wishes
every day; but that century passed away as the
other two had done, and I remained in the same
plight.  At last I grew angry at being captive for
so long, and I vowed that if anyone would release
me I would kill him at once, and would only allow
him to choose in what manner he should die.  So
you see, as you have freed me to-day, choose in
what way you will die."

The fisherman was very unhappy.  "What an unlucky
man I am to have freed you!  I implore you to
spare my life."

"I have told you," said the genius, "that it is
impossible.  Choose quickly; you are wasting
time."

The fisherman began to devise a plot.

"Since I must die," he said, "before I choose the
manner of my death, I conjure you on your honour
to tell me if you really were in that vase?"

"Yes, I was" answered the genius.

"I really cannot believe it," said the fisherman.
"That vase could not contain one of your feet
even, and how could your whole body go in?  I
cannot believe it unless I see you do the thing."

Then the genius began to change himself into
smoke, which, as before, spread over the sea and
the shore, and which, then collecting itself
together, began to go back into the vase slowly
and evenly till there was nothing left outside.
Then a voice came from the vase which said to the
fisherman, "Well, unbelieving fisherman, here I am
in the vase; do you believe me now?"

The fisherman instead of answering took the lid of
lead and shut it down quickly on the vase.

"Now, O genius," he cried, "ask pardon of me, and
choose by what death you will die!  But no, it
will be better if I throw you into the sea whence
I drew you out, and I will build a house on the
shore to warn fishermen who come to cast their
nets here, against fishing up such a wicked genius
as you are, who vows to kill the man who frees
you."

At these words the genius did all he could to get
out, but he could not, because of the enchantment
of the lid.

Then he tried to get out by cunning.

"If you will take off the cover," he said, "I will
repay you."

"No," answered the fisherman, "if I trust myself
to you I am afraid you will treat me as a certain
Greek king treated the physician Douban.  Listen,
and I will tell you."



The Story of the Greek King and the Physician
Douban


In the country of Zouman, in Persia, there lived a
Greek king.  This king was a leper, and all his
doctors had been unable to cure him, when a very
clever physician came to his court.

He was very learned in all languages, and knew a
great deal about herbs and medicines.

As soon as he was told of the king's illness he
put on his best robe and presented himself before
the king.  "Sire," said he, "I know that no
physician has been able to cure your majesty, but
if you will follow my instructions, I will promise
to cure you without any medicines or outward
application."

The king listened to this proposal.

"If you are clever enough to do this," he said, "I
promise to make you and your descendants rich for
ever."

The physician went to his house and made a polo
club, the handle of which he hollowed out, and put
in it the drug he wished to use.  Then he made a
ball, and with these things he went the next day
to the king.

He told him that he wished him to play at polo.
Accordingly the king mounted his horse and went
into the place where he played.  There the
physician approached him with the bat he had made,
saying, "Take this, sire, and strike the ball till
you feel your hand and whole body in a glow.  When
the remedy that is in the handle of the club is
warmed by your hand it will penetrate throughout
your body.  The you must return to your palace,
bathe, and go to sleep, and when you awake
to-morrow morning you will be cured."

The king took the club and urged his horse after
the ball which he had thrown.  He struck it, and
then it was hit back by the courtiers who were
playing with him.  When he felt very hot he
stopped playing, and went back to the palace, went
into the bath, and did all that the physician had
said.  The next day when he arose he found, to his
great joy and astonishment, that he was completely
cured.  When he entered his audience-chamber all
his courtiers, who were eager to see if the
wonderful cure had been effected, were overwhelmed
with joy.

The physician Douban entered the hall and bowed
low to the ground.  The king, seeing him, called
him, made him sit by his side, and showed him
every mark of honour.

That evening he gave him a long and rich robe of
state, and presented him with two thousand
sequins.  The following day he continued to load
him with favours.

Now the king had a grand-vizir who was avaricious,
and envious, and a very bad man.  He grew
extremely jealous of the physician, and determined
to bring about his ruin.

In order to do this he asked to speak in private
with the king, saying that he had a most important
communication to make.

"What is it?" asked the king.

"Sire," answered the grand-vizir, "it is most
dangerous for a monarch to confide in a man whose
faithfulness is not proved, You do not know that
this physician is not a traitor come here to
assassinate you."

"I am sure," said the king, "that this man is the
most faithful and virtuous of men.  If he wished
to take my life, why did he cure me?  Cease to
speak against him.  I see what it is, you are
jealous of him; but do not think that I can be
turned against him.  I remember well what a vizir
said to King Sindbad, his master, to prevent him
from putting the prince, his son, to death."

What the Greek king said excited the vizir's
curiousity, and he said to him, "Sire, I beg your
majesty to have the condescension to tell me what
the vizir said to King Sindbad."

"This vizir," he replied, "told King Sindbad that
one ought not believe everything that a
mother-in-law says, and told him this story."



The Story of the Husband and the Parrot


A good man had a beautiful wife, whom he loved
passionately, and never left if possible.  One
day, when he was obliged by important business to
go away from her, he went to a place where all
kinds of birds are sold and bought a parrot.  This
parrot not only spoke well, but it had the gift of
telling all that had been done before it.  He
brought it home in a cage, and asked his wife to
put it in her room, and take great care of it
while he was away.  Then he departed.  On his
return he asked the parrot what had happened
during his absence, and the parrot told him some
things which made him scold his wife.

She thought that one of her slaves must have been
telling tales of her, but they told her it was the
parrot, and she resolved to revenge herself on
him.

When her husband next went away for one day, she
told on slave to turn under the bird's cage a
hand-mill; another to throw water down from above
the cage, and a third to take a mirror and turn it
in front of its eyes, from left to right by the
light of a candle.  The slaves did this for part
of the night, and did it very well.

The next day when the husband came back he asked
the parrot what he had seen.  The bird replied,
"My good master, the lightning, thunder and rain
disturbed me so much all night long, that I cannot
tell you what I have suffered."

The husband, who knew that it had neither rained
nor thundered in the night, was convinced that the
parrot was not speaking the truth, so he took him
out of the cage and threw him so roughly on the
ground that he killed him.  Nevertheless he was
sorry afterwards, for he found that the parrot had
spoken the truth.

"When the Greek king," said the fisherman to the
genius, "had finished the story of the parrot, he
added to the vizir, "And so, vizir, I shall not
listen to you, and I shall take care of the
physician, in case I repent as the husband did
when he had killed the parrot." But the vizir was
determined.  "Sire," he replied, "the death of the
parrot was nothing.  But when it is a question of
the life of a king it is better to sacrifice the
innocent than save the guilty.  It is no uncertain
thing, however.  The physician, Douban, wishes to
assassinate you.  My zeal prompts me to disclose
this to your Majesty.  If I am wrong, I deserve to
be punished as a vizir was once punished." "What
had the vizir done," said the Greek king, "to
merit the punishment?" "I will tell your Majesty,
if you will do me the honour to listen," answered
the vizir."



The Story of the Vizir Who Was Punished


There was once upon a time a king who had a son
who was very fond of hunting.  He often allowed
him to indulge in this pastime, but he had ordered
his grand-vizir always to go with him, and never
to lose sight of him.  One day the huntsman roused
a stag, and the prince, thinking that the vizir
was behind, gave chase, and rode so hard that he
found himself alone.  He stopped, and having lost
sight of it, he turned to rejoin the vizir, who
had not been careful enough to follow him.  But he
lost his way.  Whilst he was trying to find it, he
saw on the side of the road a beautiful lady who
was crying bitterly.  He drew his horse's rein,
and asked her who she was and what she was doing
in this place, and if she needed help.  "I am the
daughter of an Indian king," she answered, "and
whilst riding in the country I fell asleep and
tumbled off.  My horse has run away, and I do not
know what has become of him."

The young prince had pity on her, and offered to
take her behind him, which he did.  As they passed
by a ruined building the lady dismounted and went
in.  The prince also dismounted and followed her.
To his great surprise, he heard her saying to some
one inside, "Rejoice my children; I am bringing
you a nice fat youth." And other voices replied,
"Where is he, mamma, that we may eat him at once,
as we are very hungry?"

The prince at once saw the danger he was in.  He
now knew that the lady who said she was the
daughter of an Indian king was an ogress, who
lived in desolate places, and who by a thousand
wiles surprised and devoured passers-by.  He was
terrified, and threw himself on his horse.  The
pretended princess appeared at this moment, and
seeing that she had lost her prey, she said to
him, "Do not be afraid.  What do you want?"

"I am lost," he answered, "and I am looking for
the road."

"Keep straight on," said the ogress, "and you will
find it."

The prince could hardly believe his ears, and rode
off as hard as he could.  He found his way, and
arrived safe and sound at his father's house,
where he told him of the danger he had run because
of the grand-vizir's carelessness.  The king was
very angry, and had him strangled immediately.

"Sire," went on the vizir to the Greek king, "to
return to the physician, Douban.  If you do not
take care, you will repent of having trusted him.
Who knows what this remedy, with which he has
cured you, may not in time have a bad effect on
you?"

The Greek king was naturally very weak, and did
not perceive the wicked intention of his vizir,
nor was he firm enough to keep to his first
resolution.

"Well, vizir," he said, "you are right.  Perhaps
he did come to take my life.  He might do it by
the mere smell of one of his drugs.  I must see
what can be done."

"The best means, sire, to put your life in
security, is to send for him at once, and to cut
off his head directly he comes," said the vizir.

"I really think," replied the king, "that will be
the best way."

He then ordered one of his ministers to fetch the
physician, who came at once.

"I have had you sent for," said the king, "in
order to free myself from you by taking your
life."

The physician was beyond measure astonished when
he heard he was to die.

"What crimes have I committed, your majesty?"

"I have learnt," replied the king, "that you are a
spy, and intend to kill me.  But I will be first,
and kill you.  Strike," he added to an executioner
who was by, "and rid me of this assassin."

At this cruel order the physician threw himself on
his knees.  "Spare my life," he cried, "and yours
will be spared."

The fisherman stopped here to say to the genius:
"You see what passed between the Greek king and
the physician has just passed between us two.  The
Greek king," he went on, "had no mercy on him, and
the executioner bound his eyes."

All those present begged for his life, but in
vain.

The physician on his knees, and bound, said to the
king:  "At least let me put my affairs in order,
and leave my books to persons who will make good
use of them.  There is one which I should like to
present to your majesty.  It is very precious, and
ought to be kept carefully in your treasury.  It
contains many curious things the chief being that
when you cut off my head, if your majesty will
turn to the sixth leaf, and read the third line of
the left-hand page, my head will answer all the
questions you like to ask it."

The king, eager to see such a wonderful thing, put
off his execution to the next day, and sent him
under a strong guard to his house.  There the
physician put his affairs in order, and the next
day there was a great crowd assembled in the hall
to see his death, and the doings after it.  The
physician went up to the foot of the throne with a
large book in his hand.  He carried a basin, on
which he spread the covering of the book, and
presenting it to the king, said:  "Sire, take this
book, and when my head is cut off, let it be
placed in the basin on the covering of this book;
as soon as it is there, the blood will cease to
flow.  Then open the book, and my head will answer
your questions.  But, sire, I implore your mercy,
for I am innocent."

"Your prayers are useless, and if it were only to
hear your head speak when you are dead, you should
die."

So saying, he took the book from the physician's
hands, and ordered the executioner to do his duty.

The head was so cleverly cut off that it fell into
the basin, and directly the blood ceased to flow.
Then, to the great astonishment of the king, the
eyes opened, and the head said, "Your majesty,
open the book." The king did so, and finding that
the first leaf stuck against the second, he put
his finger in his mouth, to turn it more easily.
He did the same thing till he reached the sixth
page, and not seeing any writing on it,
"Physician," he said, "there is no writing."

"Turn over a few more pages," answered the head.
The king went on turning, still putting his finger
in his mouth, till the poison in which each page
was dipped took effect.  His sight failed him, and
he fell at the foot of his throne.

When the physician's head saw that the poison had
taken effect, and that the king had only a few
more minutes to live, "Tyrant," it cried, "see how
cruelty and injustice are punished."

Scarcely had it uttered these words than the king
died, and the head lost also the little life that
had remained in it.

That is the end of the story of the Greek king,
and now let us return to the fisherman and the
genius.

"If the Greek king," said the fisherman, "had
spared the physician, he would not have thus died.
The same thing applies to you.  Now I am going to
throw you into the sea."

"My friend," said the genius, "do not do such a
cruel thing.  Do not treat me as Imma treated
Ateca."

"What did Imma do to Ateca?" asked the fisherman.

"Do you think I can tell you while I am shut up in
here?" replied the genius.  "Let me out, and I
will make you rich."

The hope of being no longer poor made the
fisherman give way.

"If you will give me your promise to do this, I
will open the lid.  I do not think you will dare
to break your word."

The genius promised, and the fisherman lifted the
lid.  He came out at once in smoke, and then,
having resumed his proper form, the first thing he
did was to kick the vase into the sea.  This
frightened the fisherman, but the genius laughed
and said, "Do not be afraid; I only did it to
frighten you, and to show you that I intend to
keep my word; take your nets and follow me."

He began to walk in front of the fisherman, who
followed him with some misgivings.  They passed in
front of the town, and went up a mountain and then
down into a great plain, where there was a large
lake lying between four hills.

When they reached the lake the genius said to the
fisherman, "Throw your nets and catch fish."

The fisherman did as he was told, hoping for a
good catch, as he saw plenty of fish.  What was
his astonishment at seeing that there were four
quite different kinds, some white, some red, some
blue, and some yellow.  He caught four, one of
each colour.  As he had never seen any like them
he admired them very much, and he was very pleased
to think how much money he would get for them.

"Take these fish and carry them to the Sultan, who
will give you more money for them than you have
ever had in your life.  You can come every day to
fish in this lake, but be careful not to throw
your nets more than once every day, otherwise some
harm will happen to you.  If you follow my advice
carefully you will find it good."

Saying these words, he struck his foot against the
ground, which opened, and when he had disappeared,
it closed immediately.

The fisherman resolved to obey the genius exactly,
so he did not cast his nets a second time, but
walked into the town to sell his fish at the
palace.

When the Sultan saw the fish he was much
astonished.  He looked at them one after the
other, and when he had admired them long enough,
"Take these fish," he said to his first vizir,
"and given them to the clever cook the Emperor of
the Greeks sent me.  I think they must be as good
as they are beautiful."

The vizir took them himself to the cook, saying,
"Here are four fish that have been brought to the
Sultan.  He wants you to cook them."

Then he went back to the Sultan, who told him to
give the fisherman four hundred gold pieces.  The
fisherman, who had never before possessed such a
large sum of money at once, could hardly believe
his good fortune.  He at once relieved the needs
of his family, and made good use of it.

But now we must return to the kitchen, which we
shall find in great confusion.  The cook, when she
had cleaned the fish, put them in a pan with some
oil to fry them.  When she thought them cooked
enough on one side she turned them on the other.
But scarcely had she done so when the walls of the
kitchen opened, and there came out a young and
beautiful damsel.  She was dressed in an Egyptian
dress of flowered satin, and she wore earrings,
and a necklace of white pearls, and bracelets of
gold set with rubies, and she held a wand of
myrtle in her hand.

She went up to the pan, to the great astonishment
of the cook, who stood motionless at the sight of
her.  She struck one of the fish with her rod,
"Fish, fish," said she, "are you doing your duty?"
The fish answered nothing, and then she repeated
her question, whereupon they all raised their
heads together and answered very distinctly, "Yes,
yes.  If you reckon, we reckon.  If you pay your
debts, we pay ours.  If you fly, we conquer, and
we are content."

When they had spoken the girl upset the pan, and
entered the opening in the wall, which at once
closed, and appeared the same as before.

When the cook had recovered from her fright she
lifted up the fish which had fallen into the
ashes, but she found them as black as cinders, and
not fit to serve up to the Sultan.  She began to
cry.

"Alas!  what shall I say to the Sultan?  He will
be so angry with me, and I know he will not
believe me!"

Whilst she was crying the grand-vizir came in and
asked if the fish were ready.  She told him all
that had happened, and he was much surprised.  He
sent at once for the fisherman, and when he came
said to him, "Fisherman, bring me four more fish
like you have brought already, for an accident has
happened to them so that they cannot be served up
to the Sultan."

The fisherman did not say what the genius had told
him, but he excused himself from bringing them
that day on account of the length of the way, and
he promised to bring them next day.

In the night he went to the lake, cast his nets,
and on drawing them in found four fish, which were
like the others, each of a different colour.

He went back at once and carried them to the
grand-vizir as he had promised.

He then took them to the kitchen and shut himself
up with the cook, who began to cook them as she
had done the four others on the previous day.
When she was about to turn them on the other side,
the wall opened, the damsel appeared, addressed
the same words to the fish, received the same
answer, and then overturned the pan and
disappeared.

The grand-vizir was filled with astonishment.  "I
shall tell the Sultan all that has happened," said
he.  And he did so.

The Sultan was very much astounded, and wished to
see this marvel for himself.  So he sent for the
fisherman, and asked him to procure four more
fish.  The fisherman asked for three days, which
were granted, and he then cast his nets in the
lake, and again caught four different coloured
fish.  The sultan was delighted to see he had got
them, and gave him again four hundred gold pieces.

As soon as the Sultan had the fish he had them
carried to his room with all that was needed to
cook them.

Then he shut himself up with the grand-vizir, who
began to prepare them and cook them.  When they
were done on one side he turned them over on the
other.  Then the wall of the room opened, but
instead of the maiden a black slave came out.  He
was enormously tall, and carried a large green
stick with which he touched the fish, saying in a
terrible voice, "Fish, fish, are you doing your
duty?" To these words the fish lifting up their
heads replied, "Yes, yes.  If you reckon, we
reckon.  If you pay your debts, we pay ours.  If
you fly, we conquer, and are content."

The black slave overturned the pan in the middle
of the room, and the fish were turned to cinders.
Then he stepped proudly back into the wall, which
closed round him.

"After having seen this," said the Sultan, "I
cannot rest.  These fish signify some mystery I
must clear up."

He sent for the fisherman.  "Fisherman," he said,
"the fish you have brought us have caused me some
anxiety.  Where did you get them from?"

"Sire," he answered, "I got them from a lake which
lies in the middle of four hills beyond yonder
mountains."

"Do you know this lake?" asked the Sultan of the
grand-vizir.

"No; though I have hunted many times round that
mountain, I have never heard of it," said the
vizir.

As the fisherman said it was only three hours'
journey away, the sultan ordered his whole court
to mount and ride thither, and the fisherman led
them.

They climbed the mountain, and then, on the other
side, saw the lake as the fisherman had described.
The water was so clear that they could see the
four kinds of fish swimming about in it.  They
looked at them for some time, and then the Sultan
ordered them to make a camp by the edge of the
water.

When night came the Sultan called his vizir, and
said to him, "I have resolved to clear up this
mystery.  I am going out alone, and do you stay
here in my tent, and when my ministers come
to-morrow, say I am not well, and cannot see them.
Do this each day till I return."

The grand-vizir tried to persuade the Sultan not
to go, but in vain.  The Sultan took off his state
robe and put on his sword, and when he saw all was
quiet in the camp he set forth alone.

He climbed one of the hills, and then crossed the
great plain, till, just as the sun rose, he beheld
far in front of him a large building.  When he
came near to it he saw it was a splendid palace of
beautiful black polished marble, covered with
steel as smooth as a mirror.

He went to the gate, which stood half open, and
went in, as nobody came when he knocked.  He
passed through a magnificent courtyard and still
saw no one, though he called aloud several times.

He entered large halls where the carpets were of
silk, the lounges and sofas covered with tapestry
from Mecca, and the hangings of the most beautiful
Indian stuffs of gold and silver.  Then he found
himself in a splendid room, with a fountain
supported by golden lions.  The water out of the
lions' mouths turned into diamonds and pearls, and
the leaping water almost touched a most
beautifully-painted dome.  The palace was
surrounded on three sides by magnificent gardens,
little lakes, and woods.  Birds sang in the trees,
which were netted over to keep them always there.

Still the Sultan saw no one, till he heard a
plaintive cry, and a voice which said, "Oh that I
could die, for I am too unhappy to wish to live
any longer!"

The Sultan looked round to discover who it was who
thus bemoaned his fate, and at last saw a handsome
young man, richly clothed, who was sitting on a
throne raised slightly from the ground.  His face
was very sad.

The sultan approached him and bowed to him.  The
young man bent his head very low, but did not
rise.

"Sire," he said to the Sultan, "I cannot rise and
do you the reverence that I am sure should be paid
to your rank."

"Sir," answered the Sultan, "I am sure you have a
good reason for not doing so, and having heard
your cry of distress, I am come to offer you my
help.  Whose is this palace, and why is it thus
empty?"

Instead of answering the young man lifted up his
robe, and showed the Sultan that, from the waist
downwards, he was a block of black marble.

The Sultan was horrified, and begged the young man
to tell him his story.

"Willingly I will tell you my sad history," said
the young man.



The Story of the Young King of the Black Isles


You must know, sire, that my father was Mahmoud,
the king of this country, the Black Isles, so
called from the four little mountains which were
once islands, while the capital was the place
where now the great lake lies.  My story will tell
you how these changes came about.

My father died when he was sixty-six, and I
succeeded him.  I married my cousin, whom I loved
tenderly, and I thought she loved me too.

But one afternoon, when I was half asleep, and was
being fanned by two of her maids, I heard one say
to the other, "What a pity it is that our mistress
no longer loves our master!  I believe she would
like to kill him if she could, for she is an
enchantress."

I soon found by watching that they were right, and
when I mortally wounded a favourite slave of hers
for a great crime, she begged that she might build
a palace in the garden, where she wept and
bewailed him for two years.

At last I begged her to cease grieving for him,
for although he could not speak or move, by her
enchantments she just kept him alive.  She turned
upon me in a rage, and said over me some magic
words, and I instantly became as you see me now,
half man and half marble.

Then this wicked enchantress changed the capital,
which was a very populous and flourishing city,
into the lake and desert plain you saw.  The fish
of four colours which are in it are the different
races who lived in the town; the four hills are
the four islands which give the name to my
kingdom.  All this the enchantress told me to add
to my troubles.  And this is not all.  Every day
she comes and beats me with a whip of buffalo
hide.

When the young king had finished his sad story he
burst once more into tears, and the Sultan was
much moved.

"Tell me," he cried, "where is this wicked woman,
and where is the miserable object of her
affection, whom she just manages to keep alive?"

"Where she lives I do not know," answered the
unhappy prince, "but she goes every day at sunrise
to see if the slave can yet speak to her, after
she has beaten me."

"Unfortunate king," said the Sultan, "I will do
what I can to avenge you."

So he consulted with the young king over the best
way to bring this about, and they agreed their
plan should be put in effect the next day.  The
Sultan then rested, and the young king gave
himself up to happy hopes of release.  The next
day the Sultan arose, and then went to the palace
in the garden where the black slave was.  He drew
his sword and destroyed the little life that
remained in him, and then threw the body down a
well.  He then lay down on the couch where the
slave had been, and waited for the enchantress.

She went first to the young king, whom she beat
with a hundred blows.

Then she came to the room where she thought her
wounded slave was, but where the Sultan really
lay.

She came near his couch and said, "Are you better
to-day, my dear slave?  Speak but one word to me."

"How can I be better," answered the Sultan,
imitating the language of the Ethiopians, "when I
can never sleep for the cries and groans of your
husband?"

"What joy to hear you speak!" answered the queen.
"Do you wish him to regain his proper shape?"

"Yes," said the Sultan; "hasten to set him at
liberty, so that I may no longer hear his cries."

The queen at once went out and took a cup of
water, and said over it some words that made it
boil as if it were on the fire.  Then she threw it
over the prince, who at once regained his own
form.  He was filled with joy, but the enchantress
said, "Hasten away from this place and never come
back, lest I kill you."

So he hid himself to see the end of the Sultan's
plan.

The enchantress went back to the Palace of Tears
and said, "Now I have done what you wished."

"What you have done," said the Sultan, "is not
enough to cure me.  Every day at midnight all the
people whom you have changed into fish lift their
heads out of the lake and cry for vengeance.  Go
quickly, and give them their proper shape."

The enchantress hurried away and said some words
over the lake.

The fish then became men, women, and children, and
the houses and shops were once more filled.  The
Sultan's suite, who had encamped by the lake, were
not a little astonished to see themselves in the
middle of a large and beautiful town.

As soon as she had disenchanted it the queen went
back to the palace.

"Are you quite well now?" she said.

"Come near," said the Sultan.  "Nearer still."

She obeyed.  Then he sprang up, and with one blow
of his sword he cut her in two.

Then he went and found the prince.

"Rejoice," he said, "your cruel enemy is dead."

The prince thanked him again and again.

"And now," said the Sultan.  "I will go back to my
capital, which I am glad to find is so near
yours."

"So near mine!" said the King of the Black Isles.

"Do you know it is a whole year's journey from
here?  You came here in a few hours because it was
enchanted.  But I will accompany you on your
journey."

"It will give me much pleasure if you will escort
me," said the Sultan, "and as I have no children,
I will make you my heir."

The Sultan and the prince set out together, the
Sultan laden with rich presents from the King of
the Black Isles.

The day after he reached his capital the Sultan
assembled his court and told them all that had
befallen him, and told them how he intended to
adopt the young king as his heir.

Then he gave each man presents in proportion to
his rank.

As for the fisherman, as he was the first cause of
the deliverance of the young prince, the Sultan
gave him much money, and made him and his family
happy for the rest of their days.



Story of the Three Calenders, Sons of Kings, and
of Five Ladies of Bagdad


In the reign of the Caliph Haroun-al-Raschid,
there lived at Bagdad a porter who, in spite of
his humble calling, was an intelligent and
sensible man.  One morning he was sitting in his
usual place with his basket before him, waiting to
be hired, when a tall young lady, covered with a
long muslin veil, came up to him and said, "Pick
up your basket and follow me." The porter, who was
greatly pleased by her appearance and voice,
jumped up at once, poised his basket on his head,
and accompanied the lady, saying to himself as he
went, "Oh, happy day!  Oh, lucky meeting!"

The lady soon stopped before a closed door, at
which she knocked.  It was opened by an old man
with a long white beard, to whom the lady held out
money without speaking.  The old man, who seemed
to understand what she wanted, vanished into the
house, and returned bringing a large jar of wine,
which the porter placed in his basket.  Then the
lady signed to him to follow, and they went their
way.

The next place she stopped at was a fruit and
flower shop, and here she bought a large quantity
of apples, apricots, peaches, and other things,
with lilies, jasmine, and all sorts of
sweet-smelling plants.  From this shop she went to
a butcher's, a grocer's, and a poulterer's, till
at last the porter exclaimed in despair, "My good
lady, if you had only told me you were going to
buy enough provisions to stock a town, I would
have brought a horse, or rather a camel." The lady
laughed, and told him she had not finished yet,
but after choosing various kinds of scents and
spices from a druggist's store, she halted before
a magnificent palace, at the door of which she
knocked gently.  The porteress who opened it was
of such beauty that the eyes of the man were quite
dazzled, and he was the more astonished as he saw
clearly that she was no slave.  The lady who had
led him hither stood watching him with amusement,
till the porteress exclaimed, "Why don't you come
in, my sister?  This poor man is so heavily
weighed down that he is ready to drop."

When they were both inside the door was fastened,
and they all three entered a large court,
surrounded by an open-work gallery.  At one end of
the court was a platform, and on the platform
stood an amber throne supported by four ebony
columns, garnished with pearls and diamonds.  In
the middle of the court stood a marble basin
filled with water from the mouth of a golden lion.

The porter looked about him, noticing and admiring
everything; but his attention was specially
attracted by a third lady sitting on the throne,
who was even more beautiful than the other two.
By the respect shown to her by the others, he
judged that she must be the eldest, and in this he
was right.  This lady's name was Zobeida, the
porteress was Sadie, and the housekeeper was
Amina.  At a word from Zobeida, Sadie and Amina
took the basket from the porter, who was glad
enough to be relieved from its weight; and when it
was emptied, paid him handsomely for its use.  But
instead of taking up his basket and going away,
the man still lingered, till Zobeida inquired what
he was waiting for, and if he expected more money.
"Oh, madam," returned he, "you have already given
me too much, and I fear I may have been guilty of
rudeness in not taking my departure at once.  But,
if you will pardon my saying so, I was lost in
astonishment at seeing such beautiful ladies by
themselves.  A company of women without men is,
however, as dull as a company of men without
women." And after telling some stories to prove
his point, he ended by entreating them to let him
stay and make a fourth at their dinner.

The ladies were rather amused at the man's
assurances and after some discussion it was agreed
that he should be allowed to stay, as his society
might prove entertaining.  "But listen, friend,"
said Zobeida, "if we grant your request, it is
only on condition that you behave with the utmost
politeness, and that you keep the secret of our
way of living, which chance has revealed to you."
Then they all sat down to table, which had been
covered by Amina with the dishes she had bought.

After the first few mouthfuls Amina poured some
wine into a golden cup.  She first drank herself,
according to the Arab custom, and then filled it
for her sisters.  When it came to the porter's
turn he kissed Amina's hand, and sang a song,
which he composed at the moment in praise of the
wine.  The three ladies were pleased with the
song, and then sang themselves, so that the repast
was a merry one, and lasted much longer than
usual.

At length, seeing that the sun was about to set,
Sadia said to the porter, "Rise and go; it is now
time for us to separate."

"Oh, madam," replied he, "how can you desire me to
quit you in the state in which I am?  Between the
wine I have drunk, and the pleasure of seeing you,
I should never find the way to my house.  Let me
remain here till morning, and when I have
recovered my senses I will go when you like."

"Let him stay," said Amina, who had before proved
herself his friend.  "It is only just, as he has
given us so much amusement."

"If you wish it, my sister," replied Zobeida; "but
if he does, I must make a new condition.  Porter,"
she continued, turning to him, "if you remain, you
must promise to ask no questions about anything
you may see.  If you do, you may perhaps hear what
you don't like."

This being settled, Amina brought in supper, and
lit up the hall with a number of sweet smelling
tapers.  They then sat down again at the table,
and began with fresh appetites to eat, drink,
sing, and recite verses.  In fact, they were all
enjoying themselves mightily when they heard a
knock at the outer door, which Sadie rose to open.
She soon returned saying that three Calenders, all
blind in the right eye, and all with their heads,
faces, and eyebrows clean shaved, begged for
admittance, as they were newly arrived in Bagdad,
and night had already fallen.  "They seem to have
pleasant manners," she added, "but you have no
idea how funny they look.  I am sure we should
find their company diverting."

Zobeida and Amina made some difficulty about
admitting the new comers, and Sadie knew the
reason of their hesitation.  But she urged the
matter so strongly that Zobeida was at last forced
to consent.  "Bring them in, then," said she, "but
make them understand that they are not to make
remarks about what does not concern them, and be
sure to make them read the inscription over the
door." For on the door was written in letters of
gold, "Whoso meddles in affairs that are no
business of his, will hear truths that will not
please him."

The three Calenders bowed low on entering, and
thanked the ladies for their kindness and
hospitality.  The ladies replied with words of
welcome, and they were all about to seat
themselves when the eyes of the Calenders fell on
the porter, whose dress was not so very unlike
their own, though he still wore all the hair that
nature had given him.  "This," said one of them,
"is apparently one of our Arab brothers, who has
rebelled against our ruler."

The porter, although half asleep from the wine he
had drunk, heard the words, and without moving
cried angrily to the Calender, "Sit down and mind
your own business.  Did you not read the
inscription over the door?  Everybody is not
obliged to live in the same way."

"Do not be so angry, my good man," replied the
Calender; "we should be very sorry to displease
you;" so the quarrel was smoothed over, and supper
began in good earnest.  When the Calenders had
satisfied their hunger, they offered to play to
their hostesses, if there were any instruments in
the house.  The ladies were delighted at the idea,
and Sadie went to see what she could find,
returning in a few moments laden with two
different kinds of flutes and a tambourine.  Each
Calender took the one he preferred, and began to
play a well-known air, while the ladies sang the
words of the song.  These words were the gayest
and liveliest possible, and every now and then the
singers had to stop to indulge the laughter which
almost choked them.  In the midst of all their
noise, a knock was heard at the door.

Now early that evening the Caliph secretly left
the palace, accompanied by his grand-vizir,
Giafar, and Mesrour, chief of the eunuchs, all
three wearing the dresses of merchants.  Passing
down the street, the Caliph had been attracted by
the music of instruments and the sound of
laughter, and had ordered his vizir to go and
knock at the door of the house, as he wished to
enter.  The vizir replied that the ladies who
lived there seemed to be entertaining their
friends, and he thought his master would do well
not to intrude on them; but the Caliph had taken
it into his head to see for himself, and insisted
on being obeyed.

The knock was answered by Sadie, with a taper in
her hand, and the vizir, who was surprised at her
beauty, bowed low before her, and said
respectfully, "Madam, we are three merchants who
have lately arrived from Moussoul, and, owing to a
misadventure which befel us this very night, only
reached our inn to find that the doors were closed
to us till to-morrow morning.  Not knowing what to
do, we wandered in the streets till we happened to
pass your house, when, seeing lights and hearing
the sound of voices, we resolved to ask you to
give us shelter till the dawn.  If you will grant
us this favour, we will, with your permission, do
all in our power to help you spend the time
pleasantly."

Sadie answered the merchant that she must first
consult her sisters; and after having talked over
the matter with them, she returned to tell him
that he and his two friends would be welcome to
join their company.  They entered and bowed
politely to the ladies and their guests.  Then
Zobeida, as the mistress, came forward and said
gravely, "You are welcome here, but I hope you
will allow me to beg one thing of you--have as
many eyes as you like, but no tongues; and ask no
questions about anything you see, however strange
it may appear to you."

"Madam," returned the vizir, "you shall be obeyed.
We have quite enough to please and interest us
without troubling ourselves about that with which
we have no concern." Then they all sat down, and
drank to the health of the new comers.

While the vizir, Giafar, was talking to the ladies
the Caliph was occupied in wondering who they
could be, and why the three Calenders had each
lost his right eye.  He was burning to inquire the
reason of it all, but was silenced by Zobeida's
request, so he tried to rouse himself and to take
his part in the conversation, which was very
lively, the subject of discussion being the many
different sorts of pleasures that there were in
the world.  After some time the Calenders got up
and performed some curious dances, which delighted
the rest of the company.

When they had finished Zobeida rose from her seat,
and, taking Amina by the hand, she said to her,
"My sister, our friends will excuse us if we seem
to forget their presence and fulfil our nightly
task." Amina understood her sister's meaning, and
collecting the dishes, glasses, and musical
instruments, she carried them away, while Sadie
swept the hall and put everything in order.
Having done this she begged the Calenders to sit
on a sofa on one side of the room, and the Caliph
and his friends to place themselves opposite.  As
to the porter, she requested him to come and help
her and her sister.

Shortly after Amina entered carrying a seat, which
she put down in the middle of the empty space.
She next went over to the door of a closet and
signed to the porter to follow her.  He did so,
and soon reappeared leading two black dogs by a
chain, which he brought into the centre of the
hall.  Zobeida then got up from her seat between
the Calenders and the Caliph and walked slowly
across to where the porter stood with the dogs.
"We must do our duty," she said with a deep sigh,
pushing back her sleeves, and, taking a whip from
Sadie, she said to the man, "Take one of those
dogs to my sister Amina and give me the other."

The porter did as he was bid, but as he led the
dog to Zobeida it uttered piercing howls, and
gazed up at her with looks of entreaty.  But
Zobeida took no notice, and whipped the dog till
she was out of breath.  She then took the chain
from the porter, and, raising the dog on its hind
legs, they looked into each other's eyes
sorrowfully till tears began to fall from both.
Then Zobeida took her handkerchief and wiped the
dog's eyes tenderly, after which she kissed it,
then, putting the chain into the porter's hand she
said, "Take it back to the closet and bring me the
other."

The same ceremony was gone through with the second
dog, and all the while the whole company looked on
with astonishment.  The Caliph in particular could
hardly contain himself, and made signs to the
vizir to ask what it all meant.  But the vizir
pretended not to see, and turned his head away.

Zobeida remained for some time in the middle of
the room, till at last Sadie went up to her and
begged her to sit down, as she also had her part
to play.  At these words Amina fetched a lute from
a case of yellow satin and gave it to Sadie, who
sang several songs to its accompaniment.  When she
was tired she said to Amina, "My sister, I can do
no more; come, I pray you, and take my place."

Amina struck a few chords and then broke into a
song, which she sang with so much ardour that she
was quite overcome, and sank gasping on a pile of
cushions, tearing open her dress as she did so to
give herself some air.  To the amazement of all
present, her neck, instead of being as smooth and
white as her face, was a mass of scars.

The Calenders and the Caliph looked at each other,
and whispered together, unheard by Zobeida and
Sadie, who were tending their fainting sister.

"What does it all mean?  ' asked the Caliph.

"We know no more than you," said the Calender to
whom he had spoken.

"What!  You do not belong to the house?"

"My lord," answered all the Calenders together,
"we came here for the first time an hour before
you."

They then turned to the porter to see if he could
explain the mystery, but the porter was no wiser
than they were themselves.  At length the Caliph
could contain his curiosity no longer, and
declared that he would compel the ladies to tell
them the meaning of their strange conduct.  The
vizir, foreseeing what would happen, implored him
to remember the condition their hostesses had
imposed, and added in a whisper that if his
Highness would only wait till morning he could as
Caliph summon the ladies to appear before him.
But the Caliph, who was not accustomed to be
contradicted, rejected this advice, and it was
resolved after a little more talking that the
question should be put by the porter.  Suddenly
Zobeida turned round, and seeing their excitement
she said, "What is the matter-- what are you all
discussing so earnestly?"

"Madam," answered the porter, "these gentlemen
entreat you to explain to them why you should
first whip the dogs and then cry over them, and
also how it happens that the fainting lady is
covered with scars.  They have requested me,
Madam, to be their mouthpiece."


"Is it true, gentlemen," asked Zobeida, drawing
herself up, "that you have charged this man to put
me that question?"

"It is," they all replied, except Giafar, who was
silent.

"Is this," continued Zobeida, growing more angry
every moment, "is this the return you make for the
hospitality I have shown you?  Have you forgotten
the one condition on which you were allowed to
enter the house?  Come quickly," she added,
clapping her hands three times, and the words were
hardly uttered when seven black slaves, each armed
with a sabre, burst in and stood over the seven
men, throwing them on the ground, and preparing
themselves, on a sign from their mistress, to cut
off their heads.

The seven culprits all thought their last hour had
come, and the Caliph repented bitterly that he had
not taken the vizir's advice.  But they made up
their minds to die bravely, all except the porter,
who loudly inquired of Zobeida why he was to
suffer for other people's faults, and declared
that these misfortunes would never have happened
if it had not been for the Calenders, who always
brought ill-luck.  He ended by imploring Zobeida
not to confound the innocent with the guilty and
to spare his life.

In spite of her anger, there was something so
comic in the groans of the porter that Zobeida
could not refrain from laughing.  But putting him
aside she addressed the others a second time,
saying, "Answer me; who are you?  Unless you tell
me truly you have not another moment to live.  I
can hardly think you are men of any position,
whatever country you belong to.  If you were, you
would have had more consideration for us."

The Caliph, who was naturally very impatient,
suffered far more than either of the others at
feeling that his life was at the mercy of a justly
offended lady, but when he heard her question he
began to breathe more freely, for he was convinced
that she had only to learn his name and rank for
all danger to be over.  So he whispered hastily to
the vizir, who was next to him, to reveal their
secret.  But the vizir, wiser than his master,
wished to conceal from the public the affront they
had received, and merely answered, "After all, we
have only got what we deserved."

Meanwhile Zobeida had turned to the three
Calenders and inquired if, as they were all blind,
they were brothers.

"No, madam," replied one, "we are no blood
relations at all, only brothers by our mode of
life."

"And you," she asked, addressing another, "were
you born blind of one eye?"

"No, madam," returned he, "I became blind through
a most surprising adventure, such as probably has
never happened to anybody.  After that I shaved my
head and eyebrows and put on the dress in which
you see me now."

Zobeida put the same question to the other two
Calenders, and received the same answer.

"But," added the third, "it may interest you,
madam, to know that we are not men of low birth,
but are all three sons of kings, and of kings,
too, whom the world holds in high esteem."

At these words Zobeida's anger cooled down, and
she turned to her slaves and said, "You can give
them a little more liberty, but do not leave the
hall.  Those that will tell us their histories and
their reasons for coming here shall be allowed to
leave unhurt; those who refuse--" And she paused,
but in a moment the porter, who understood that he
had only to relate his story to set himself free
from this terrible danger, immediately broke in,

"Madam, you know already how I came here, and what
I have to say will soon be told.  Your sister
found me this morning in the place where I always
stand waiting to be hired.  She bade me follow her
to various shops, and when my basket was quite
full we returned to this house, when you had the
goodness to permit me to remain, for which I shall
be eternally grateful.  That is my story."

He looked anxiously to Zobeida, who nodded her
head and said, "You can go; and take care we never
meet again."

"Oh, madam," cried the porter, "let me stay yet a
little while.  It is not just that the others
should have heard my story and that I should not
hear theirs," and without waiting for permission
he seated himself on the end of the sofa occupied
by the ladies, whilst the rest crouched on the
carpet, and the slaves stood against the wall.

Then one of the Calenders, addressing himself to
Zobeida as the principal lady, began his story.



The Story of the First Calender, Son of a King


In order, madam, to explain how I came to lose my
right eye, and to wear the dress of a Calender,
you must first know that I am the son of a king.
My father's only brother reigned over the
neighbouring country, and had two children, a
daughter and a son, who were of the same age as
myself.

As I grew up, and was allowed more liberty, I went
every year to pay a visit to my uncle's court, and
usually stayed there about two months.  In this
way my cousin and I became very intimate, and were
much attached to each other.  The very last time I
saw him he seemed more delighted to see me than
ever, and gave a great feast in my honour.  When
we had finished eating, he said to me, "My cousin,
you would never guess what I have been doing since
your last visit to us!  Directly after your
departure I set a number of men to work on a
building after my own design.  It is now
completed, and ready to be lived in.  I should
like to show it to you, but you must first swear
two things:  to be faithful to me, and to keep my
secret."

Of course I did not dream of refusing him anything
he asked, and gave the promise without the least
hesitation.  He then bade me wait an instant, and
vanished, returning in a few moments with a richly
dressed lady of great beauty, but as he did not
tell me her name, I thought it was better not to
inquire.  We all three sat down to table and
amused ourselves with talking of all sorts of
indifferent things, and with drinking each other's
health.  Suddenly the prince said to me, "Cousin,
we have no time to lose; be so kind as to conduct
this lady to a certain spot, where you will find a
dome-like tomb, newly built.  You cannot mistake
it.  Go in, both of you, and wait till I come.  I
shall not be long."

As I had promised I prepared to do as I was told,
and giving my hand to the lady, I escorted her, by
the light of the moon, to the place of which the
prince had spoken.  We had barely reached it when
he joined us himself, carrying a small vessel of
water, a pickaxe, and a little bag containing
plaster.

With the pickaxe he at once began to destroy the
empty sepulchre in the middle of the tomb.  One by
one he took the stones and piled them up in a
corner.  When he had knocked down the whole
sepulchre he proceeded to dig at the earth, and
beneath where the sepulchre had been I saw a
trap-door.  He raised the door and I caught sight
of the top of a spiral staircase; then he said,
turning to the lady, "Madam, this is the way that
will lead you down to the spot which I told you
of."

The lady did not answer, but silently descended
the staircase, the prince following her.  At the
top, however, he looked at me.  "My cousin," he
exclaimed, "I do not know how to thank you for
your kindness.  Farewell."

"What do you mean?" I cried.  "I don't
understand."

"No matter," he replied, "go back by the path that
you came."

He would say no more, and, greatly puzzled, I
returned to my room in the palace and went to bed.
When I woke, and considered my adventure, I
thought that I must have been dreaming, and sent a
servant to ask if the prince was dressed and could
see me.  But on hearing that he had not slept at
home I was much alarmed, and hastened to the
cemetery, where, unluckily, the tombs were all so
alike that I could not discover which was the one
I was in search of, though I spent four days in
looking for it.

You must know that all this time the king, my
uncle, was absent on a hunting expedition, and as
no one knew when he would be back, I at last
decided to return home, leaving the ministers to
make my excuses.  I longed to tell them what had
become of the prince, about whose fate they felt
the most dreadful anxiety, but the oath I had
sworn kept me silent.

On my arrival at my father's capital, I was
astonished to find a large detachment of guards
drawn up before the gate of the palace; they
surrounded me directly I entered.  I asked the
officers in command the reason of this strange
behaviour, and was horrified to learn that the
army had mutinied and put to death the king, my
father, and had placed the grand-vizir on the
throne.  Further, that by his orders I was placed
under arrest.

Now this rebel vizir had hated me from my
boy-hood, because once, when shooting at a bird
with a bow, I had shot out his eye by accident.
Of course I not only sent a servant at once to
offer him my regrets and apologies, but I made
them in person.  It was all of no use.  He
cherished an undying hatred towards me, and lost
no occasion of showing it.  Having once got me in
his power I felt he could show no mercy, and I was
right.  Mad with triumph and fury he came to me in
my prison and tore out my right eye.  That is how
I lost it.

My persecutor, however, did not stop here.  He
shut me up in a large case and ordered his
executioner to carry me into a desert place, to
cut off my head, and then to abandon my body to
the birds of prey.  The case, with me inside it,
was accordingly placed on a horse, and the
executioner, accompanied by another man, rode into
the country until they found a spot suitable for
the purpose.  But their hearts were not so hard as
they seemed, and my tears and prayers made them
waver.

"Forsake the kingdom instantly," said the
executioner at last, "and take care never to come
back, for you will not only lose your head, but
make us lose ours." I thanked him gratefully, and
tried to console myself for the loss of my eye by
thinking of the other misfortunes I had escaped.


After all I had gone through, and my fear of being
recognised by some enemy, I could only travel very
slowly and cautiously, generally resting in some
out-of-the-way place by day, and walking as far as
I was able by night, but at length I arrived in
the kingdom of my uncle, of whose protection I was
sure.

I found him in great trouble about the
disappearance of his son, who had, he said,
vanished without leaving a trace; but his own
grief did not prevent him sharing mine.  We
mingled our tears, for the loss of one was the
loss of the other, and then I made up my mind that
it was my duty to break the solemn oath I had
sworn to the prince.  I therefore lost no time in
telling my uncle everything I knew, and I observed
that even before I had ended his sorrow appeared
to be lightened a little.

"My dear nephew," he said, "your story gives me
some hope.  I was aware that my son was building a
tomb, and I think I can find the spot.  But as he
wished to keep the matter secret, let us go alone
and seek the place ourselves."

He then bade me disguise myself, and we both
slipped out of a garden door which opened on to
the cemetery.  It did not take long for us to
arrive at the scene of the prince's disappearance,
or to discover the tomb I had sought so vainly
before.  We entered it, and found the trap-door
which led to the staircase, but we had great
difficulty in raising it, because the prince had
fastened it down underneath with the plaster he
had brought with him.

My uncle went first, and I followed him.  When we
reached the bottom of the stairs we stepped into a
sort of ante-room, filled with such a dense smoke
that it was hardly possible to see anything.
However, we passed through the smoke into a large
chamber, which at first seemed quite empty.  The
room was brilliantly lighted, and in another
moment we perceived a sort of platform at one end,
on which were the bodies of the prince and a lady,
both half-burned, as if they had been dragged out
of a fire before it had quite consumed them.

This horrible sight turned me faint, but, to my
surprise, my uncle did not show so much surprise
as anger.

"I knew," he said, "that my son was tenderly
attached to this lady, whom it was impossible he
should ever marry.  I tried to turn his thoughts,
and presented to him the most beautiful
princesses, but he cared for none of them, and, as
you see, they have now been united by a horrible
death in an underground tomb." But, as he spoke,
his anger melted into tears, and again I wept with
him.

When he recovered himself he drew me to him.  "My
dear nephew," he said, embracing me, "you have
come to me to take his place, and I will do my
best to forget that I ever had a son who could act
in so wicked a manner." Then he turned and went up
the stairs.

We reached the palace without anyone having
noticed our absence, when, shortly after, a
clashing of drums, and cymbals, and the blare of
trumpets burst upon our astonished ears.  At the
same time a thick cloud of dust on the horizon
told of the approach of a great army.  My heart
sank when I perceived that the commander was the
vizir who had dethroned my father, and was come to
seize the kingdom of my uncle.

The capital was utterly unprepared to stand a
siege, and seeing that resistance was useless, at
once opened its gates.  My uncle fought hard for
his life, but was soon overpowered, and when he
fell I managed to escape through a secret passage,
and took refuge with an officer whom I knew I
could trust.

Persecuted by ill-fortune, and stricken with
grief, there seemed to be only one means of safety
left to me.  I shaved my beard and my eyebrows,
and put on the dress of a calender, in which it
was easy for me to travel without being known.  I
avoided the towns till I reached the kingdom of
the famous and powerful Caliph, Haroun-al-Raschid,
when I had no further reason to fear my enemies.
It was my intention to come to Bagdad and to throw
myself at the feet of his Highness, who would, I
felt certain, be touched by my sad story, and
would grant me, besides, his help and protection.

After a journey which lasted some months I arrived
at length at the gates of this city.  It was
sunset, and I paused for a little to look about
me, and to decide which way to turn my steps.  I
was still debating on this subject when I was
joined by this other calender, who stopped to
greet me.  "You, like me, appear to be a
stranger," I said.  He replied that I was right,
and before he could say more the third calender
came up.  He, also, was newly arrived in Bagdad,
and being brothers in misfortune, we resolved to
cast in our lots together, and to share whatever
fate might have in store.

By this time it had grown late, and we did not
know where to spend the night.  But our lucky star
having guided us to this door, we took the liberty
of knocking and of asking for shelter, which was
given to us at once with the best grace in the
world.

This, madam, is my story.

"I am satisfied," replied Zobeida; "you can go
when you like."

The calender, however, begged leave to stay and to
hear the histories of his two friends and of the
three other persons of the company, which he was
allowed to do.