The Book of the Thousand Nights and a Night, Volume 6
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Richard F. Burton >> The Book of the Thousand Nights and a Night, Volume 6
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When it was the Six Hundredth Night,
She said, It hath reached me, O auspicious King, that the youth
after buying the veil of the merchant bore it home; but hardly
had he reached the house when lo! up came the old woman. He rose
to her and gave her his purchase when she bade him bring a live
coal, with which she burnt one of the corners of the veil, then
folded it up as before and, repairing to Abu al-Fath's house,
knocked at the door. Asked the damsel, "Who is there?"; and she
answered, "I, such an one." Now the damsel knew her for a friend
of her mother so, when she heard her voice, she came out and
opening the door to her, said, "What brought thee here, O my
mother? My mamma hath left me and gone to her own house." Replied
the old woman, "O my daughter, I know thy mother is not with
thee, for I have been with her in her home, and I come not to
thee, but because I fear to pass the hour of prayer; wherefore I
desire to make my Wuzu-ablution with thee, for I know thou art
clean and thy house pure."[FN#230] The damsel admitted the old
trot who saluted her and called down blessings upon her. Then she
took the ewer and went into the wash house, where she made her
ablutions and prayed in a place there. Presently, she came out
again and said to the damsel, "O my daughter, I suspect thy
handmaidens have been in yonder place and defiled it; so do thou
show me another place where I may pray, for the prayer I have
prayed I account null and void." Thereupon the damsel took her by
the hand and said to her, "O my mother, come and pray on my
carpet, where my husband sits." So she stood there and prayed and
worshipped, bowed and prostrated; and presently, she took the
damsel unawares and made shift to slip the veil under the
cushion, unseen of her. Then she blessed her and went her ways.
Now as the day was closing Abu al-Fath came home and sat down
upon the carpet, whilst his wife brought him food and he ate of
it his sufficiency and washed his hands; after which he leant
back upon the cushion. Presently, he caught sight of a corner of
the veil protruding from under the cushion; so he pulled it out
and considered it straitly, when, knowing it for that he had sold
to the young man, he at once suspected his wife of unchastity.
Thereupon he called her and said, "Whence hadst thou this veil?"
And she swore an oath to him, saying, "None hath come to me but
thou." The merchant was silent for fear of scandal, and said to
himself, "If I open up this chapter, I shall be put to shame
before all Baghdad;" for he was one of the intimates of the
Caliph and so he could do nothing save hold his peace. So he
asked no questions, but said to his wife, whose name was
Mahziyah, "It hath reached me that thy mother lieth ill of heart
ache[FN#231] and all the women are with her, weeping over her;
wherefore I order thee to go to her." Accordingly, she repaired
to her mother's house and found her in the best of health; and
she asked her daughter, "What brings thee here at this hour?" So
she told her what her husband had said and sat with her awhile;
when behold, up came porters, who brought her clothes from her
husband's house, and transporting all her paraphernalia and what
not else belonged to her of goods and vessels, deposited them in
her mother's lodging. When the mother saw this, she said to her
daughter, "Tell me what hath passed between thee and thy husband,
to bring about this." But she swore to her that she knew not the
cause thereof and that there had befallen nothing between them to
call for this conduct. Quoth her mother, "Needs must there be a
cause for this." And she answered, saying, "I know of none, and
after this, with Almighty Allah be it to make provision!"
Whereupon her mother fell a weeping and lamented her daughter's
separation from the like of this man, by reason of his
sufficiency and fortune and the greatness of his rank and
dignity. On this wise things abode some days, after which the
curst, ill omened old woman, whose name was Miryam the
Koranist,[FN#232] paid a visit to Mahziyah, in her mother's house
and saluted her cordially, saying, "What ails thee, O my
daughter, O my darling? Indeed, thou hast troubled my mind." Then
she went in to her mother and said to her, "O my sister, what is
this business about thy daughter and her husband? It hath reached
me that he hath divorced her! What hath she done to call for
this?" Quoth the mother, "Belike her husband will return to her
by the blessed influence of thy prayers, O Hafizah; so do thou
pray for her, O my sister, for thou art a day faster and a night
prayer." Then the three fell to talking together and the old
woman said to the damsel, "O my daughter, grieve not for, if
Allah please, I will make peace between thee and thy husband
before many days." Then she left them and going to the young
merchant, said to him, "Get ready a handsome entertainment for
us, for I will bring her to thee this very night." So he sprang
up and went forth and provided all that was fitting of meat and
drink and so forth, then sat down to await the twain; whilst the
old woman returned to the girl's mother and said to her, "O my
sister, we have a splendid bride feast to night; so let thy
daughter go with me, that she may divert herself and make merry
with us and throw off her cark and care, and forget the ruin of
her home. I will bring her back to thee even as I took her away."
The mother dressed her daughter in her finest dress and costliest
jewels and accompanied her to the door, where she commended her
to the old woman's charge, saying, " 'Ware lest thou let any of
Almighty Allah's creatures look upon her, for thou knowest her
husband's rank with the Caliph; and do not tarry, but bring her
back to me as soon as possible." The old woman carried the girl
to the young man's house which she entered, thinking it the place
where the wedding was to be held: but as soon as she came into
the sitting saloon,--And Shahrazad perceived the dawn of day and
ceased saying her permitted say.
When it was the Six Hundred and First Night,
She said, It hath reached me, O auspicious King, that as soon as
the damsel entered the sitting saloon, the youth sprang up to her
and flung his arms round her neck and kissed her hands and feet.
She was confounded at his loveliness, as well as at the beauty of
the place and the profusion of meat and drink, flowers and
perfumes that she saw therein, and deemed all was a dream. When
the old woman saw her amazement, she said to her, "The name of
Allah be upon thee, O my daughter! Fear not; I am here sitting
with thee and will not leave thee for a moment. Thou art worthy
of him and he is worthy of thee." So the damsel sat down
shame-fast and in great confusion; but the young man jested and
toyed with her and entertained her with laughable stories and
loving verses, till her breast broadened and she became at her
ease. Then she ate and drank and growing warm with wine, took the
lute and sang these couplets,
"My friend who went hath returned once more; * Oh, the welcome
light that such beauty shows!
And but for the fear of those arrowy eyes, * From his lovely
cheek I had culled the rose."
And when the youth saw that she to his beauty did incline he waxt
drunken without wine and his life was a light matter to him
compared with his love.[FN#233] Presently the old woman went out
and left them alone together to enjoy their loves till the next
morning, when she went into them and gave them both good
morrow[FN#234] and asked the damsel, "How hast thou passed the
night, O my lady?" Answered the girl, "Right well, thanks to thy
adroitness and the excellence of thy going between."[FN#235] Then
said the old woman, ''Up, let us go back to thy mother." At these
words the young man pulled out an hundred sequins and gave them
to her, saying, "Take this and leave her with me to night." So
she left them and repaired to the girl's mother, to whom quoth
she, "Thy daughter saluteth thee, and the bride's mother hath
sworn her to abide with her this night." Replied the mother, "O
my sister, bear her my salaam, and, if it please and amuse the
girl, there is no harm in her staying the night; so let her do
this and divert herself and come back to me at her leisure, for
all I fear for her is chagrin on account of an angry husband."
The old woman ceased not to make excuse after excuse to the
girl's mother and to put off cheat upon cheat upon her, till
Mahziyah had tarried seven days with the young man, of whom she
took an hundred dinars each day for herself; while he enjoyed all
the solace of life and coition. But at the end of this time, the
girl's mother said to her, "Bring my daughter back to me
forthright; for I am uneasy about her, because she hath been so
long absent, and I misdoubt me of this." So the old woman went
out saying, "Woe to thee! shall such words be spoken to the like
of me?"; and, going to the young man's house, took the girl by
the hand and carried her away (leaving him lying asleep on his
bed, for he was drunken with wine) to her mother. She received
her with pleasure and gladness and seeing her in redoubled beauty
and brilliancy rejoiced in her with exceeding joy, saying, "O my
daughter, my heart was troubled about thee and in my uneasiness I
offended against this my sister the Koranist with a speech that
wounded her." Replied Mahziyah, "Rise and kiss her hands and
feet, for she hath been to me as a servant in my hour of need,
and if thou do it not thou art no mamma of mine, nor am I thy
girl." So the mother went up at once to the old woman and made
her peace with her. Meanwhile, the young man recovered from his
drunkenness and missed the damsel, but congratulated himself on
having enjoyed his desire. Presently Miryam the old Koranist came
in to him and saluted him, saying, "What thinkest thou of my
feat?" Quoth he, "Excellently well conceived and contrived of
thee was that same." Then quoth she, "Come, let us mend what we
have marred and restore this girl to her husband, for we have
been the cause of their separation and it is unrighteous." Asked
he, "How shall I do?" and she answered, "Go to Abu al-Fath's shop
and salute him and sit down by him, till thou seest me pass by,
when do thou rise in haste and catch hold of my dress and abuse
me and threaten me, demanding of me the veil. And do thou say to
the merchant, 'Thou knowest, O my lord, the face veil I bought of
thee for fifty dinars? It so chanced that my handmaid put it on
and burnt a corner of it by accident; so she gave it to this old
woman, who took it, promising to get it fine-drawn[FN#236] and
return it, and went away, nor have I seen her from that day to
this.'" "With joy and good will," replied the young man, and
rising forthright, walked to the shop of the silk merchant, with
whom he sat awhile till behold, the old woman passed telling her
beads on a rosary she held in hand; whereupon he sprang up and
laying hold of her dress began to abuse and rail at her, whilst
she answered him with fair words, saying, "Indeed, my son, thou
art excusable." So the people of the bazaar flocked round the
two, saying, "What is the matter?" and he replied, "O folk, I
bought of this merchant a veil for fifty dinars and gave it to my
slave girl, who wore it awhile, then sat down to fumigate it with
perfume. Presently a spark flew out of the censer and, lighting
on the edge of the veil, burnt a hole in it. So we committed it
to this pestilent old woman, that she might give it to who should
fine-draw it and return it to us; but from that time we have
never set eyes on her again till this day." Answered the old
woman, "This young man speaks sooth. I had the veil from him, but
I took it with me into one of the houses where I am wont to visit
and forgot it there, nor do I know where I left it; and, being a
poor woman, I feared its owner and dared not face him." Now the
girl's husband was listening to all they said,--And Shahrazad
perceived the dawn of day and ceased to say her permitted say.
When it was the Six Hundred and Second Night,
She said, It hath reached me, O auspicious King, that when the
young man 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?"[FN#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[FN#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[FN#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 four score 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.[FN#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.
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.[FN#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.[FN#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."[FN#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.[FN#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 and
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[FN#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 are he who stole my eye
and I will never let thee go."[FN#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,[FN#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 the 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 their advantage; for he is
versed in craft[FN#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.
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 Sa'a or measure of whatever
the seller should desire.[FN#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,[FN#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, "And 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,'[FN#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 hime, '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 foreit 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[FN#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
Sa'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 the city of
sharpers, returned to his own land, ---And Shahrazad perceived
the dawn of day and ceased saying her permitted say.
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