In an island of the islands standeth a great city called Daryabar, wherein dwelt a king of exalted degree.  But despite his virtue and his valour he was ever sad and sorrowful having naught of offspring, and he offered up without surcease prayers on that behalf.  After long years and longsome supplications a half boon was granted to him; to wit, a daughter (myself) was born.  My father who grieved sore at first presently rejoiced with joy exceeding at the unfortunate ill-fated birth of me; and, when I came of age to learn, he bade me be taught to read and write; and caused me to be instructed in court-ceremonial and royal duties and the chronicles of the past, to the intent that I might succeed him as heiress to his throne and his kingship.  Now it happened one day that my sire rode out a-hunting and gave chase to a wild ass[FN#239] with such hot pursuit that he found himself at eventide separated from his suite; so, wearied with the chase, he dismounted from his steed and seating himself by the side of a forest-path, he said to himself “The onager will doubtless seek cover in this copse.”  Suddenly he espied a light shining bright amidst the trees and, thinking that a hamlet might be hard by, he was minded to night there and at day-dawn to determine his further course.  Hereupon he arose and walking towards the light he found that it issued from a lonely hut in the forest; then peering into the inside he espied an Abyssinian burly of bulk and in semblance like unto a Satan, seated upon a divan.  Before him were ranged many capacious jars full of wine and over a fire of charcoal he was roasting a bullock whole and eating the flesh and ever and anon drinking deep draughts from one of the pitchers.  Furthermore the King sighted in that hut a lady of exquisite beauty and comeliness sitting in a corner direly distressed:  her hands were fast bound with cords, and at her feet a child of two or three years of age lay beweeping his mother’s sorry plight.—­And as the morn began to dawn Shahrazad held her peace till

      The end of the Five Hundred and Ninety-sixth Night.

Then said she:—­I have heard, O auspicious King, that seeing the doleful state of these twain, my sire was filled with ruth and longed to fall upon the ogre sword in hand; however, not being able to cope with him he restrained his wrath and remained on stealthy watch.  The giant having drained all the pitchers of wine and devoured half of the barbacued bullock presently addressed himself to the lady and said, “O loveliest of Princesses, how long wilt thou prove thee coy and keep aloof from me?  Dost thou not see how desirous I am of winning thy heart and how I am dying for the love of thee?  ’Tis therefore only right that thou also shouldst return my affection and know me as thine own, when I will become to thee the kindest of mankind.”  “O thou Ghul of the waste,” cried the lady, “what be this whereof thou pratest?  Never; no, never shalt thou win thy wish of me, however