seized the old woman and spoke to her of the veil as she had primed him,
the girl’s husband was listening to all they said, from beginning to
end, and when he heard the tale which the crafty old woman had contrived
with the young man, he rose to his feet and said, “Allah Almighty! I
crave pardon of the Omnipotent One for my sins and for what my heart
suspected!” And he praised the Lord who had discovered to him the truth.
Then he accosted the old woman and said to her, “Dost thou use to visit
us?”[237] Replied she, “O my son, I visit you and other than you, for
the sake of alms; but from that day to this, none hath given me news of
the veil.” Asked the merchant, “Hast thou enquired at my house?” and she
answered, “O my lord, I did indeed go to thy house and ask; but they
told me that the person of the house[238] had been divorced by the
merchant; so I went away and asked no farther; nor have I enquired of
anybody else until this day.” Hereupon the merchant turned to the young
man and said. “Let the old woman go her way; for the veil is with me.”
So saying he brought it out from the shop and gave it to the fine-drawer
before all present. Then he betook himself to his wife and, giving her
somewhat of money, took her to himself again, after making abundance of
excuses to her and asking pardon of Allah, because he knew not what the
old woman had done. (Said the Wazir), This then, O King, is an instance
of the malice of women and for another to the same purport, I have heard
tell the following tale anent
_THE KING’S SON AND THE IFRIT’S MISTRESS_.[239]
A certain King’s son was once walking alone for his pleasure, when he
came to a green meadow, abounding in trees laden with fruit and birds
singing on the boughs, and a river running athwart it. The place pleased
him; so he sat down there and taking out some dried fruits he had
brought with him, began to eat, when lo! he espied a great smoke rising
up to heaven and, taking fright, he climbed up into a tree and hid
himself among the branches. Thence he saw an Ifrit rise out of the midst
of the stream bearing on his head a chest of marble, secured by a
padlock. He set down the chest on the meadow-sward and opened it and
there came forth a damsel of mortal race like the sun shining in the
sheeny sky. After seating her he solaced himself by gazing on her
awhile, then laid his head in her lap and fell asleep, whereupon she
lifted up his head and laying it on the chest, rose and walked about.
Presently, she chanced to raise her eyes to the tree wherein was the
Prince, and seeing him, signed to him to come down. He refused, but she
swore to him, saying, “Except thou come down and do as I bid thee, I
will wake the Ifrit and point thee out to him, when he will straightway
kill thee.” The King’s son fearing she would do as she said, came down,
whereupon she kissed his hands and feet and besought him to do her need.
To this he consented and, when he had satisfied her wants, she said to
him, “Give me this seal-ring I see on thy finger.” So he gave her his
signet and she set it in a silken kerchief she had with her, wherein
were more than fourscore others. When the Prince saw this, he asked her,
“What dost thou with all these rings?” and she answered, “In very sooth
this Ifrit carried me off from my father’s palace and shut me in this
box, which he beareth about on his head wherever he goeth, with the keys
about him; and he hardly leaveth me one moment alone of the excess of
his jealousy over me, and hindereth me from what I desire. When I saw
this, I swore that I would deny my last favours to no man whatsoever,
and these rings thou seest are after the tale of the men who have had
me; for after coition I took from each a seal-ring and laid it in this
kerchief.” Then she added, “And now go thy ways, that I may look for
another than thyself, for the Ifrit will not awake yet awhile.” Hardly
crediting what he had heard, the Prince returned to his father’s palace,
but the King knew naught of the damsel’s malice (for she feared not this
and took no count thereof), and seeing that his son had lost his ring,
he bade put him to death.[240] Then he rose from his place and entered
his palace; but his Wazirs came in to him and prevailed with him to
abandon his purpose. The same night, the King sent for all of them and
thanked them for having dissuaded him from slaying his son; and the
Prince also thanked them, saying, “It was well done of you to counsel my
father to let me live and Inshallah! I will soon requite you
abundantly.” Then he related to them how he had lost the ring, and they
offered up prayers for his long life and advancement and withdrew. “See
then, O King,” (said the Wazir), “the malice of women and what they do
unto men.” The King hearkened to the Minister’s counsel and again
countermanded his order to slay his son. Next morning, it being the
eighth day, as the King sat in his audience-chamber in the midst of his
Grandees and Emirs and Wazirs and Olema, the Prince entered, with his
hand in that of his governor, Al-Sindibad, and praised his father and
his Ministers and lords and divines in the most eloquent words and
thanked them for having saved his life; so that all who were present
wondered at his eloquence and fluency of speech. His father rejoiced in
him with exceeding, all-surpassing joy, and calling him to him, kissed
him between the eyes. Then he called his preceptor, Al-Sindibad, and
asked him why his son had kept silence these seven days, to which he
replied, “O our lord, the truth is, it was I who enjoined him to this,
in my fear for him of death: I knew this from the day of his birth; and,
when I took his nativity, I found it written in the stars that, if he
should speak during this period, he would surely die; but now the danger
is over, by the King’s fortune.” At this the King was glad and said to
his Wazirs, “If I had killed my son, would the fault have fallen on me
or the damsel or on the preceptor, Al-Sindibad?” But all present
refrained from replying, and Al-Sindibad said to the Prince, “Answer
thou, O my son.”——And Shahrazad perceived the dawn of day and ceased
saying her permitted say.
Now when it was the Six Hundred and Third Night,
She said, It hath reached me, O auspicious King, that when Al-Sindibad
said, “Answer thou, O my son,” the Prince replied, “I have heard tell
that a merchant at whose house certain guests once alighted sent his
slave-girl to the market to buy a jar of clotted milk.[241] So she
bought it and set out on her return home; but on the way there passed
over her a kite, holding and squeezing a serpent in its claws, and a
drop of the serpent’s venom fell into the milk-jar, unknown of the girl.
So, when she came back, the merchant took the milk from her and drank of
it, he and his guests; but hardly had it settled in their stomachs when
they all died.[242] Now consider, O King, whose was the fault in this
matter?” Thereupon some present said, “It was the fault of the company
who drank the milk without examining it.” And other some, “That of the
girl, who left the jar without cover.” But Al-Sindibad asked the Prince,
“What sayest thou, O my son?” Answered he, “I say that the folk err; it
was neither the fault of the damsel nor of the company, for their
appointed hour was come, their divinely-decreed provision was exhausted
and Allah had fore-ordained them to die thus.”[243] When the courtiers
heard this, they marvelled greatly and lifted up their voices, blessing
the King’s son, and saying, “O our lord, thou hast made a reply _sans
peur_, and thou art the sagest man of thine age _sans reproche_.”
“Indeed, I am no sage,” answered the Prince; “the blind Shaykh and the
son of three years and the son of five years were wiser than I.” Said
the bystanders, “O youth, tell us the stories of these three who were
wiser than thou art, O youth.” Answered he:—With all my heart. I have
heard tell this tale concerning
_THE SANDAL-WOOD MERCHANT AND THE SHARPERS_.[244]
There once lived an exceeding rich merchant, who was a great traveller
and who visited all manner of places. One day, being minded to journey
to a certain city, he asked those who came thence, saying, “What kind of
goods brought most profit there?” and they answered, “Chanders-wood; for
it selleth at a high price.” So he laid out all his money in sandal and
set out for that city; and arriving there at close of day, behold, he
met an old woman driving her sheep. Quoth she to him, “Who art thou, O
man?” and quoth he, “I am a stranger, a merchant.” “Beware of the
townsfolk,” said she, “for they are cheats, rascals, robbers who love
nothing more than imposing on the foreigner that they may get the better
of him and devour his substance. Indeed I give thee good counsel.” Then
she left him and on the morrow there met him one of the citizens who
saluted him and asked him, “O my lord, whence comest thou?” Answered the
merchant, “From such a place.” “And what merchandise hast thou brought
with thee?” enquired the other; and replied he, “Chanders-wood, for it
is high of price with you.” Quoth the townsman, “He blundered who told
thee that; for we burn nothing under our cooking-pots save sandal-wood,
whose worth with us is but that of fuel.” When the merchant heard this
he sighed and repented and stood balanced between belief and unbelief.
Then he alighted at one of the khans of the city, and, when it was
night, he saw a merchant make fire of chanders-wood under his
cooking-pot. Now this was the man who had spoken with him and this
proceeding was a trick of his. When the townsman saw the merchant
looking at him, he asked, “Wilt thou sell me thy sandal-wood for a
measure[245] of whatever thy soul shall desire?” “I sell it to thee,”
answered the merchant; and the buyer transported all the wood to his own
house and stored it up there; whilst the seller purposed to take an
equal quantity of gold for it. Next morning the merchant, who was a
blue-eyed man, went out to walk in the city but, as he went along, one
of the townsfolk, who was blue-eyed and one-eyed to boot, caught hold of
him, saying, “Thou art he who stole my eye and I will never let thee
go.”[246] The merchant denied this, saying, “I never stole it: the thing
is impossible.” Whereupon the folk collected round them and besought the
one-eyed man to grant him till the morrow, that he might give him the
price of his eye. So the merchant procured one to be surety for him, and
they let him go. Now his sandal had been rent in the struggle with the
one-eyed man; so he stopped at a cobbler’s stall and gave it to him,
saying, “Mend it and thou shalt have of me what shall content thee.”
Then he went on, till he came to some people sitting at play of forfeits
and sat down with them, to divert his cark and care. They invited him to
play with them and he did so; but they practised on him and overcoming
him, offered him his choice,[247] either to drink up the sea or disburse
all the money he had. “Have patience with me till to-morrow,” said he,
and they granted him the delay he sought; whereupon he went away, sore
concerned for what had betided him and knowing not how he should do, and
sat down in a solitary place heart-heavy, care-full, thought-opprest.
And behold, the old woman passed by and seeing him thus, said to him,
“Peradventure the townsfolk have gotten the better of thee, for I see
thee troubled at that which hath befallen thee: recount to me what
aileth thee.” So he told her all that had passed from first to last, and
she said, “As for him who diddled thee in the matter of the
chanders-wood, thou must know that with us it is worth ten gold pieces a
pound. But I will give thee a rede, whereby I trust thou shalt deliver
thyself; and it is this. Go to such and such a gate whereby lives a
blind Shaykh, a cripple, who is knowing, wise as a wizard and
experienced; and all resort to him and ask him what they require, when
he counsels them what will be for their advantage; for he is versed in
craft[248] and magic and trickery. Now he is a sharper and the sharpers
resort to him by night; therefore, I repeat, go thou to his lodging and
hide thyself from thine adversaries, so thou mayst hear what they say,
unseen of them; for he telleth them which party got the better and which
got the worse; and haply thou shalt learn from them some plan which may
avail to deliver thee from them.”——And Shahrazad perceived the dawn of
day and ceased to say her permitted say.
Now when it was the Six Hundred and Fourth Night,
She said, It hath reached me, O auspicious King, that the old woman said
to the merchant, “Go this night to that expert who is frequented by the
townsfolk and hide thine identity: haply shalt thou hear from him some
plea which shall deliver thee from thine adversaries.” So he went to the
place she mentioned and hid himself albeit he took seat near the blind
man. Before long, up came the Shaykh’s company who were wont to choose
him for their judge: they saluted the oldster and one another and sat
down round him, whereupon the merchant recognised his four adversaries.
The Chief set somewhat of food before them and they ate; then each began
to tell what had befallen him during his day, and amongst the rest came
forward he of the chanders-wood and told the Shaykh how he had bought of
one man sandal below its price, and had agreed to pay for it a Sá’a or
measure of whatever the seller should desire.[249] Quoth the old man,
“Thine opponent hath the better of thee.” Asked the other, “How can that
be?”; and the Shaykh answered, “What if he say, I will take the measure
full of gold or silver, wilt thou give it to him?” “Yes,” replied the
other, “I will give it to him and still be the gainer.” And the Shaykh
answered, “And if he say, I will take the measure full of fleas,[250]
half male and half female, what wilt thou do?” So the sharper knew that
he was worsted. Then came forward the one-eyed man and said, “O Shaykh,
I met to-day a blue-eyed man, a stranger to the town; so I picked a
quarrel with him and caught hold of him, saying:—‘Twas thou robbedst me
of my eye; nor did I let him go, till some became surety for him that he
should return to me to-morrow and satisfy me for my eye.” Quoth the
oldster, “If he will he may have the better of thee and thou the worse.”
“How so?” asked the sharper; and the Chief said, “He may say to thee,
Pluck out thine eye, and I will pluck out one of mine; then we will
weigh them both, and if thine eye be of the same weight as mine, thou
sayest sooth in what thou avouchest. So wilt thou owe him the legal
price of his eye and be stone blind, whilst he will still see with his
other eye.” So the sharper knew that the merchant might baffle him with
such plea. Then came the cobbler; and said, “O Shaykh, a man brought me
his sandal-shoe to-day, saying, Mend this; and I asked him, What wage
wilt thou give me?; when he answered, Thou shalt have of me what will
content thee. Now nothing will content me but all the wealth he hath.”
Quoth the oldster, “An he will, he may take his sandal from thee and
give thee nothing.” “How so?” quoth the cobbler, and quoth the Shaykh,
“He has but to say to thee, The Sultan’s enemies are put to the rout;
his foes are waxed weak and his children and helpers are multiplied. Art
thou content or no? If thou say, I am content,[251] he will take his
sandal and go away; and if thou say, I am not content, he will take his
sandal and beat thee therewith over the face and neck.” So the cobbler
owned himself worsted. Then came forward the gamester and said, “O
Shaykh, I played at forfeits with a man to-day and beat him and quoth I
to him:—If thou drink the sea I will give thee all my wealth; and if not
I will take all that is thine.” Replied the Chief, “An he will he may
worst thee.” “How so?” asked the sharper, and the Shaykh answered, “He
hath but to say, Hold for me the mouth of the sea in thine hand and give
it me and I will drink it. But thou wilt not be able to do this; so he
will baffle thee with this plea.” When the merchant heard this, he knew
how it behoved him to deal with his adversaries. Then the sharpers left
the Shaykh and the merchant returned to his lodging. Now when morning
morrowed, the gamester came to him and summoned him to drink the sea; so
he said to him, “Hold for me its mouth and I will drink it up.”
Whereupon he confessed himself beaten and redeemed his forfeit by paying
an hundred gold pieces. Then came the cobbler and sought of him what
should content him. Quoth the merchant, “Our lord the Sultan hath
overcome his foes and hath destroyed his enemies and his children are
multiplied. Art thou content or no?” “I am content,” replied the cobbler
and, giving up the shoe[252] without wage, went away. Next came the
one-eyed man and demanded the legal price of his eye. Said the merchant,
“Pluck out thine eye, and I will pluck out mine: then we will weigh
them, and if they are equal in weight, I will acknowledge thy truth, and
pay thee the price of thine eye; but, if they differ, thou liest and I
will sue thee for the price of mine eye.” Quoth the one-eyed man, “Grant
me time;” but the merchant answered, saying, “I am a stranger and grant
time to none, nor will I part from thee till thou pay.” So the sharper
ransomed his eye by paying him an hundred ducats and went away. Last of
all came the buyer of the chanders-wood and said, “Take the price of thy
ware.” Asked the merchant, “What wilt thou give me?”; and the other
answered, “We agreed for a Sá’a-measure of whatever thou shouldst
desire; so, if thou wilt, take it full of gold and silver.” “Not I,”
rejoined the merchant, “Not I! nothing shall serve me but I must have it
full of fleas, half male and half female.” Said the Sharper, “I can do
nothing of the kind;” and, confessing himself beaten, returned him his
sandal-wood and redeemed himself from him with an hundred sequins, to be
off his bargain. Then the merchant sold the chanders-wood at his own
price and, quitting that city of sharpers, returned to his own
land.——And Shahrazad perceived the dawn of day and ceased saying her
permitted say.
Now when it was the Six Hundred and Fifth Night,
She said, It hath reached me, O auspicious King, that when the merchant
had sold his chanders-wood and had taken the money he quitted that city
and returned to his own land. Then the Prince continued, “But this is
not more wondrous than the tale of the three-year-old child.” “What may
that be?” asked the King, and the Prince answered:—I have heard tell
this tale of
_THE DEBAUCHEE AND THE THREE-YEAR-OLD CHILD_.
Know, O King that a certain profligate man, who was addicted to the sex,
once heard of a beautiful and lovely woman who dwelt in a city other
than his own. So he journeyed thither, taking with him a present, and
wrote her a note, setting forth all that he suffered of love-longing and
desire for her and how his passion for her had driven him to forsake his
native land and come to her and he ended by praying for an assignation.
She gave him leave to visit her and, as he entered her abode, she stood
up and received him with all honour and worship, kissing his hands and
entertaining him with the best entertainment of meat and drink. Now she
had a little son, but three years old, whom she left and busied herself
in cooking rice.[253] Presently the man said to her, “Come, let us go
and lie together;” but she replied, “My son is sitting looking at us.”
Quoth the man, “He is a little child, understanding not neither knowing
how to speak.” Quoth the woman, “Thou wouldst not say thus, an thou knew
his intelligence.” When the boy saw that the rice was done, he wept with
bitter weeping and his mother said to him, “What gars thee weep, O my
son?” “Ladle me out some rice,” answered he, “and put clarified butter
in it.” So she ladled him out somewhat of rice and put butter therein;
and the child ate a little, then began to weep again. Quoth she, “What
ails thee now, O my son?”; and quoth he, “O mother mine, I want some
sugar with my rice.” At this said the man, who was an-angered, “Thou art
none other than a curst child.” “Curst thyself, by Allah,” answered the
boy, “seeing thou weariest thyself and journeyest from city to city, in
quest of adultery. As for me, I wept because I had somewhat in my eye,
and my tears brought it ought; and now I have eaten rice with butter and
sugar and am content; so which is the curst of us twain?” The man was
confounded at this rebuke from a little child and forthright grace
entered him and he was reclaimed. Wherefore he laid not a finger on the
woman, but went out from her and returned to his own country, where he
lived a contrite life till he died. As for the story of the
five-year-old child (continued the Prince), I have heard tell, O King,
the following anent
_THE STOLEN PURSE_.
Four merchants once owned in common a thousand gold pieces; so they laid
them mingled together in one purse and set out to buy merchandise
therewith. They happened as they wended their way on a beautiful garden;
so they left the purse with a woman who had care of the garden, saying
to her, “Mind thee, thou shalt not give it back save when all four of us
in person demand it of thee.” She agreed to this and they entered and
strolled awhile about the garden-walks and ate and drank and made merry,
after which one of them said to the others, “I have with me scented
fuller’s-earth; come, let us wash our heads therewith in this running
water.” Quoth another, “We lack a comb;” and a third, “Let us ask the
keeper; belike she hath a comb.” Thereupon one of them arose and
accosting the care-taker, said to her, “Give me the purse.” Said she,
“Not until ye be all present or thy fellows bid me give it thee.” Then
he called to his companions (who could see him but not hear him) saying,
“She will not give it me;” and they said to her, “Give it him,” thinking
he meant the comb. So she gave him the purse and he took it and made off
as fast as he could. When the three others were weary of waiting, they
went to the keeper and asked her, “Why wilt thou not give him the comb?”
Answered she, “He demanded naught of me save the purse, and I gave not
that same but with your consent, and he went his way with it.” When they
heard her words they buffeted their faces and, laying hands upon her,
said, “We authorized thee only to give him the comb;” and she rejoined,
“He named not a comb to me.” Then they seized her and haled her before
the Kazi, to whom they related their claim and he condemned her to make
good the purse and bound over sundry of her debtors to answer for
her.——And Shahrazad perceived the dawn of day and ceased to say her
permitted say.
Now when it was the Six Hundred and Sixth Night,