In a month’s time he was perfectly cured of his wounds by medicines that I gave him, and resolved to avenge himself of the old woman, who had put such a barbarous cheat upon him.  To this end he took a bag, large enough to contain five hundred pieces of gold, and filled it with pieces of glass.

My brother fastened the bag of glass about him, disguised himself like an old woman, and took a cimeter under his gown.  One morning he met the old woman walking through the town to seek her prey; he went up to her, and counterfeiting a woman’s voice, said, “Cannot you lend me a pair of scales?  I am newly come from Persia, have brought five hundred pieces of gold with me, and would know if they are weight.”  “Good woman,” answered the old hag, “you could not have applied to a fitter person:  follow me, I will conduct you to my son, who changes money, and will weigh them himself to save you the trouble.  Let us make haste, for fear he should go to his shop.”  My brother followed her to the house where she carried him at first, and the Greek slave opened the door.

The old woman took my brother to the hall where she desired him to wait till she called her son.  The pretended son came, and proved to be the villainous black slave.  “Come, old woman,” said he to my brother, “rise and follow me:”  having spoken thus, he went before to conduct him to the place where he designed to murder him.  Alnaschar got up, followed him, and drawing his cimeter, gave him such a dexterous blow behind on the neck, that he cut off his head, which he took in one hand, and dragging the corpse with the other, threw them both into the place under ground before-mentioned.  The Greek slave, who was accustomed to the trade, came presently with a basin of salt; but when she saw Alnaschar with his cimeter in his hand, and without his veil, she laid down the basin, and fled.  But my brother overtaking her, cut off her head also.  The wicked old woman came running at the noise, and my brother seizing her, said to her, “Treacherous wretch, do not you know me?” “Alas, Sir!” answered she trembling, “who are you?  I do not remember that I ever saw you.”  “I am,” replied he, “the person to whose house you came the other day to wash and say your prayers.  Hypocritical hag, do not you remember?” Then she fell on her knees to beg his pardon, but he cut her in four pieces.

There remained only the lady, who knew nothing of what had passed:  he sought her out, and found her in a chamber, where she was ready to sink when she saw him:  she begged her life, which he generously granted.  “Madam,” said he, “how could you live with such wicked people, as I have so justly revenged myself upon?” “I was,” she answered, “wife to an honest merchant; and the old woman, whose wickedness I did not then know, used sometimes to come to see me; ‘Madam,’ said she to me one day, ‘we have a wedding at our house, which you will be pleased to see, if you will give us the honour of your company:’  I was persuaded