The sultan, according to his custom, spent the day in regulating his affairs; and when the night had closed in, retired with Scheherazade.  The next morning before day, Dinarzade failed not to call to her sister:  “My dear sister, if you be not asleep, I pray you till day-break, which is very near, to go on with the story you began last night.”  The sultan, without waiting for Scheherazade to ask his permission, bade her proceed with the story of the genie and the merchant; upon which Scheherazade continued her relation as follows. [FN:  In the original work Scheherazade continually breaks off to ask the sultan to spare her life for another day, that she may finish the story she is relating.  As these interruptions considerably interfere with the continued interest of the stories, it has been deemed advisable to omit them.]

When the merchant saw that the genie was going to cut off his head, he cried out aloud to him, “For heaven’s sake hold your hand!  Allow me one word.  Have the goodness to grant me some respite, to bid my wife and children adieu, and to divide my estate among them by will, that they may not go to law after my death.  When I have done this, I will come back and submit to whatever you shall please to command.”  “But,” said the genie, “if I grant you the time you ask, I doubt you will never return?” “If you will believe my oath,” answered the merchant, “I swear by all that is sacred, that I will come and meet you here without fail.”  “What time do you require then?” demanded the genie.  “I ask a year,” said the merchant; “I cannot in less settle my affairs, and prepare myself to die without regret.  But I promise you, that this day twelve months I will return under these trees, to put myself into your hands.”  “Do you take heaven to be witness to this promise?” said the genie.  “I do,” answered the merchant, “and you may rely on my oath.”  Upon this the genie left him near the fountain, and disappeared.

The merchant being recovered from his terror, mounted his horse, and proceeded on his journey, glad on the one hand that he had escaped so great a danger, but grieved on the other, when he reflected on his fatal oath.  When he reached home, his wife and children received him with all the demonstrations of perfect joy.  But he, instead of returning their caresses, wept so bitterly, that his family apprehended something calamitous had befallen him.  His wife enquire reason of his excessive grief and tears; “We are all overjoyed,” said she, “at your return; but you alarm us by your lamentations; pray tell us the cause of your sorrow.”  “Alas!” replied the husband, “I have but a year to live.”  He then related what had passed betwixt him and the genie, and informed her that he had given him his oath to return at the end of the year, to receive death from his hands.

When they heard this afflicting intelligence, they all began to lament in the most distressing manner.  His wife uttered the most piteous cries, beat her face, and tore her hair.  The children, all in tears, made the house resound with their groans; and the father, not being able to resist the impulse of nature, mingled his tears with theirs:  so that, in a word, they exhibited the most affecting spectacle possible.