The Arabian Nights [56]
My landlord, the tailor, was very much rejoiced to see me: "Your absence," said he, "has disquieted me much, as you had entrusted me with the secret of your birth, and I knew not what to think; I was afraid somebody had discovered you; God be praised for your return." I thanked him for his zeal and affection, but not a word durst I say of what had passed, nor of the reason why I came back without my hatchet and cords.
I retired to my chamber, where I reproached myself a thousand times for my excessive imprudence: "Nothing," said I, "could have paralleled the princess's good fortune and mine, had I forborne to break the talisman."
While I was thus giving myself over to melancholy thoughts, the tailor came in and said, "An old man, whom I do not know, brings your hatchet and cords, which he found in his way as he tells me, and says he understood from your comrades that you lodge here; come out and speak to him, for he will deliver them to none but yourself."
At these words I changed colour, and fell a trembling. While the tailor was asking me the reason, my chamber-door opened, 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 Ebene, who had thus disguised himself, after he had treated her with the utmost barbarity. "I am a genie," said he, speaking to me, "son of the daughter of Eblis, prince of genies: is not this your hatchet, 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 disordered me. He grasped me by the middle, dragged me out of the chamber, and mounting into the air, carried me up to the skies with such swiftness, that I was not able to take notice of the way he conveyed me. He descended again in like manner to the earth, which on a sudden he caused to open with a stroke of his foot, and sunk down at once, when I found myself in the enchanted palace, before the fair princess of the isle of Ebene. But, alas! what a spectacle was there! I saw what pierced me to the heart; this poor princess was quite naked, weltering in her blood, and laid upon the ground, more like one dead than alive, with her cheeks 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 cost not know him?" "If I do not know him," said the princess, "would you have me lie on purpose to ruin him?" "Oh then," said the genie, pulling out a cimeter and presenting it to the princess, "if you never saw him before, take this, and cut off his head." "Alas," replied the princess, "how is it possible that I should execute such an act? My strength is so far spent that I cannot lift up my arm; and if I could, how should I have the heart to take away the life of an innocent man, and one whom 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 not know her?"
I should have been the most ungrateful wretch, and the most perfidious of all mankind, if I had not strewn myself as faithful to the