with a frightful cry.  The merchant being as much alarmed at the hideous shape of the monster as at his threatening language, answered him, trembling, “Alas! my good lord, of what crime can I be guilty towards you, that you should take away my life?” “I will,” replied the genie, “kill thee, as thou hast killed my son.”  “Heavens,” exclaimed the merchant, “how could I kill your son?  I never knew, never saw him.”  “Did not you sit down when you came hither?” demanded the genie:  “did you not take dates out of your wallet, and as you ate them, did not you throw the shells about in different directions?” “I did all that you say,” answered the merchant, “I cannot deny it.”  “If it be so,” resumed the genie, “I tell thee that thou hast killed my son; and in this manner:  When thou wert throwing the shells about, my son was passing by, and thou didst throw one into his eye, which killed him; therefore I must kill thee.”  “Ah! my lord! pardon me!” cried the merchant.  “No pardon,” exclaimed the genie, “no mercy.  Is it not just to kill him that has killed another?” “I agree it is,” replied the merchant, “but certainly I never killed your son; and if I have, it was unknown to me, and I did it innocently; I beg you therefore to pardon me, and suffer me to live.”  “No, no,” returned the genie, persisting in his resolution, “I must kill thee, since thou hast killed my son.”  Then taking the merchant by the arm, he threw him with his face on the ground, and lifted up his cimeter to cut off his head.

The merchant, with tears, protested he was innocent, bewailed his wife and children, and supplicated the genie, in the most moving expressions.  The genie, with his cimeter still lifted up, had the patience to hear his unfortunate victims to the end of his lamentations, but would not relent.  “All this whining,” said the monster, “is to no purpose; though you should shed tears of blood, they should not hinder me from killing thee, as thou hast killed my son.”  “What!” exclaimed the merchant, “can nothing prevail with you?  Will you absolutely take away the life of a poor innocent?” “Yes,” replied the genie, “I am resolved.”

As soon as she had spoken these words, perceiving it was day, and knowing that the sultan rose early in the morning to say his prayers, and hold his council, Scheherazade discontinued her story.  “Dear sister,” said Dinarzade, “what a wonderful story is this!” “The remainder of it,” replied Scheherazade “is more surprising, and you will be of this opinion, if the sultan will but permit me to live over this day, and allow me to proceed with the relation the ensuing night.”  Shier-ear, who had listened to Scheherazade with much interest, said to himself, “I will wait till to-morrow, for I can at any time put her to death when she has concluded her story.”  Having thus resolved not to put Scheherazade to death that day, he rose and went to his prayers, and to attend his council.

During this time the grand vizier was in the utmost distress.  Instead of sleeping, he spent the night in sighs and groans, bewailing the lot of his daughter, of whom he believed he should himself shortly be the executioner.  As, with this melancholy prospect before him, he dreaded to meet the sultan, he was agreeably surprised when he found the prince entered the council chamber without giving him the fatal orders he expected.