the princess's good fortune and mine, had I foreborn to break the talisman.
While I was thus giving myself over to melancholy thoughts, the tailor came in and told me, An old man, said he, whom I do not know, brings me your hatchet and cords, which he found in his way, as he tells me, and understood, by your comrades that go along with you to the woods, that you lodge here. Come out and speak to him, for he will deliver them to none but yourself.
At this discourse I changed colour, and fell a-trembling. While the tailor was asking me the reason, my chamber-door opened at once, and the old man, having no patience to stay, appeared to us with my hatchet and cords. This was the genie, the ravisher of the fair princess of the isle of Ebone, who had thus disguised himself, after he had treated her with the utmost barbarity. I am a genie, said he, son of the daughter of Ebis, prince of genies. Is not this your hatchet? said he, speaking to me, and are not these your cords?
After the genie had put the question to me, he gave me no time to answer, nor was it in my power, so much had his terrible aspect put me beside myself. He grasped me by the middle, dragged me out of the chamber, and, mounting into the air, carried me up as high as the skies, with such swiftness, that I perceived I was got so high as not to be able to take notice of the way, being carried in so few moments. He descended again in like manner to the earth, which, on a sudden, he caused to open with a knock of his foot, and so sunk down at once, where I found myself in the enchanted palace before the fair princess of the isle of Ebone. But, alas! what a spectacle was there; I saw that which pierced me to the heart; this poor princess was quite naked, all in blood, and laid upon the ground, more like one dead than alive, with her cheeks all bathed in tears.
Perfidious wretch, said the genie to her, pointing at me, is not this your gallant? She cast her languishing eyes upon me, and answered mournfully, I do not know him; I never saw him till this moment. What, said the genie, he is the cause of thy being in the condition thou art justly in; and yet darest thou say thou dost not know him? If I do not know him, said the princess, would you have me to make a lie on purpose to ruin him? O then, said the genie, pulling out a scimitar, and presenting it to the princess, if you never saw him before, take the scimitar and cut off his head. Alas! replied the princess, how is it possible I should execute what you would force me to do? My strength is so far spent that I cannot lift my arm; and if I could, how should I have the heart to take away an innocent man's life, and one I do not know? This refusal, said the genie to the princess, sufficiently informs me of your crime. Upon which, turning to me, And thou, said he, dost thou hot know her?
I should have been the most ungrateful wretch, and the most perfidious of all mankind, if I had not shown myself as faithful to the princess as she was to me, who had been the cause of her misfortunes. Therefore I answered the genie, How should I know her, that never saw her till now? If that be so, said he, take the scimitar and cut off her head. On this condition I will set thee at liberty, for then I will be convinced that thou never saw her till this very moment, as thou sayest thyself. With all my heart, replied I, and took the scimitar in my hand.
Do not think, madam, that I drew near to the fair princess of the isle of Ebone, to be the executioner of the genie's barbarity; I did it only to demonstrate by my behaviour, as much as possible, that as she had shown her resolution to sacrifice her life for my sake, so I would not refuse to sacrifice mine for her's. The princess, notwithstanding her pain and suffering, understood my meaning, which she signified by an obliging look, and made me understand her willingness to die for me; and that she was satisfied to see also how willing I was to die for her. Upon this I stepped back, and threw the scimitar on the ground. I shall for ever, says I to the genie, be hateful to all mankind, should I be so base as to murder, I do not only say a person whom I do not know, but also a lady like this, who is ready to give up the ghost; do with me what you please since I am in your power; I cannot obey your barbarous commands.
I see, said the genie, that you both out-brave me, and insult my jealousy; but both of you shall know, by the treatment I give you, what I am capable to do. At these words, the monster took up the scimitar and cut off one of her hands, which left her only so much life as to give me a token with the other, that she bid me for ever adieu. For the blood she had lost before, and that which gushed out then, did not permit her to live above one or two moments after this barbarous cruelty, the sight of which threw me into a fit. When I was come to myself again, I expostulated with the genie, why he made me languish in expectation of death. Strike, cried I, for I am ready to receive the mortal blow, and expect it as the greatest favour you can show me. But instead of agreeing to that, Look ye, says he, how genies treat their wives whom they suspect of unfaithfulness; she has received thee here, and were I certain that she had put any other affront upon me, I would make thee die this minute; but I will content myself to transform thee into a dog, ape, lion, or bird: take thy choice of any of these, I will leave it to thyself.
These words gave me some hopes to mollify him. O genie; said I, moderate your passion, and since you will not take away my life, give it me generously; I shall always remember your clemency, if you pardon me, as one of the best men in the world pardoned one of his neighbours who bore him a mortal hatred. The genie asked me what had passed between those two neighbours, and said, he would have patience till he heard the story, which I told him thus: And I believe, madam, you will not take it ill if I also relate it to you.
THE STORY OF THE ENVIOUS MAN, AND OF HIM WHOM HE ENVIED
In a considerable town, two persons dwelt next door to each other; one of them conceived such a violent hatred against the other, that he who was hated resolved to remove his dwelling further off, being persuaded that their being neighbours was the only cause from whence his animosity did arise; for, though he had done him several pieces of service, he found, nevertheless, that his hatred was nothing diminished; therefore he sold his house, with what goods he had left, and retired to the capital city of that kingdom, which was not far distant. He bought a little spot of ground, which lay about half a league from the city; he had a house convenient enough, with a fine garden, and a pretty spacious court, wherein was a deep well, which was not in use.
The honest man, having made this purchase, put on a dervize's or monk's habit to lead a retired life, and caused several cells to be made in the house, where in a short time he established a numerous society of dervizes. He came soon to be publicly known by his virtue, through which he acquired the esteem of a great many people, as well of the commonalty as of the chief of the city. In short, he was extremely honoured and cherished by every one. People came from far to recommend themselves to his prayers; and all those that came to live with him published what blessings they received through his means.
The great reputation of that honest man having spread to the town from whence he came, it touched the envious man so much to the quick, that he left his house and affairs, with a resolution to go and ruin him. With this intent he went to the new convent of dervizes, of which his former neighbour was the head, who received him with all imaginable tokens of friendship. The envious man told him that he was come on purpose to communicate a business of importance to him, which he could not do but in private; and because that nobody shall hear us, let us, says he, take a walk in your court, and seeing night begins to draw on, command your dervizes to retire to their cells. The head of the dervizes did as he required.
When the envious man saw that he was alone, with this good man, he began to tell him his errand, walking side by side in the court until he saw his opportunity; and getting the good man near the brink of the well, he gave him a thrust, and pushed him into it, without any body being witness to so wicked an action. Having done this, he marched off immediately, got out at the gate of the convent without being known to any one, and came home to his own house, well satisfied with his journey, being fully persuaded that the object of his hatred was no more in this world.
This old well was inhabited by fairies and genies, which happened luckily for the relief of the head of the convent; for they received and supported him, and carried him to the bottom, so that he got no hurt. He perceived well enough that there was something extraordinary in his fall, which must otherwise have cost him
