There was once a devout woman, who had renounced the world and devoted herself to the service of God. Now she used to resort to a certain king"s palace, the dwellers wherein looked for a blessing by reason of her presence, and she was held of them in high honour. One day, she entered the palace, according to her wont, and sat down beside the queen. Presently the latter gave her a necklace, worth a thousand dinars, saying, "Keep this for me, whilst I go to the bath." So she entered the bath, which was in the palace, and the pious woman laid the necklace on the prayer-carpet and stood up to pray. As she was thus engaged, there came a magpie, which snatched up the necklace, [unseen of her,] and carrying it off, hid it in a crevice in one of the palace-walls. When the queen came out of the bath, she sought the necklace of the recluse, and the latter searched for it, but found it not nor could light on any trace of it; so she said to the queen, "By Allah, O my daughter, none has been with me. When thou gavest me the necklace, I laid it on the prayer-carpet, and I know not if one of the servants saw it and took it without my heed, whilst I was engaged in prayer. God only knows what is come of it!" When the King heard what had happened, he bade his consort put the woman to the question by fire and beating; so they tortured her with all manner tortures, but could not bring her to confess or to accuse any. Then he commanded to lay her in irons and cast her into prison, and they did as he bade.

One day, after this, as the King sat in the inner court of his palace, with the queen by his side aud water flowing around him, he saw the magpie fly into a crevice of the wall and pull out the lost necklace, whereupon he cried out to a damsel who was with him, and she caught the bird and took the necklace from it. By this the King knew that the pious woman had been wronged and repented of that he had done with her. So he sent for her and fell to kissing her head and sought pardon of her-weeping. Moreover, he commanded great treasure to be given to her, but she would none of it. However, she forgave him and went away, vowing never again to enter any one"s house. So she betook herself to wandering in the mountains and valleys and worshipped God the Most High till she died. And for an instance of the malice of the male sex," continued the damsel, "I have heard tell that

The Two Pigeons

A pair of pigeons once stored up wheat and barley in their nests in the winter, and when the summer came, the grain shrivelled and became less; so the male pigeon said to his mate, "Thou hast eaten of this grain." "No, by Allah," replied she; "I have not touched it!" But he believed her not and beat her with his wings and pecked her with his bill, till he killed her. When the cold season returned, the corn swelled out and became as before, whereupon he knew that he had slain his mate unjustly and wickedly and repented, when repentance availed him not. Then he lay down by her side, mourning over her and weeping for grief, and left eating and drinking, till he fell sick and died.

But," added the damsel, "I know a story of the malice of men more extraordinary than either of these." "Let us hear it," said the King; and she said, "I have heard tell, O King, that

Story of Prince Behram of Persia and the Princess Ed Detma

There was once a king"s daughter, by name Ed Detma, who had no equal in her time for beauty and elegance and symmetry and amorous grace and the art of ravishing men"s wits, nor was there one more accomplished than she in horsemanship and martial exercises and all that behoveth a cavalier, and all the king"s sons sought her in marriage; but she would none of them, saying, "None shall marry me except he overcome me at push of pike and stroke of sword in the open field. If any can do this, I will willingly wed him; but, if I overcome him, I will take his horse and clothes and arms and write with fire upon his forehead, "This is the freedman of Ed Detma."" So the eons of the kings flocked to her from far and near, and she overcame them and put them to shame, stripping them of their arms and branding them with fire.

At last, the son of a king of the kings of the Persians, by name Behram, heard of her and journeyed from afar to her father"s court, bringing with him men and horses and great store of wealth and royal treasures. When he drew near the city, he sent her father a rich present and the king came out to meet him and received him with the utmost honour. Then the prince sent a message to him by his vizier, demanding his daughter"s hand in marriage; but the king answered, saying, "O my son, I have no power over my daughter Ed Detma, for she hath sworn by her soul to marry none except he overcome her in the listed field." Quoth the prince, "It was to this intent that I journeyed hither from my father"s court." And the king said, "Thou shalt meet her to-morrow." Accordingly, on the morrow, he sent to bid his daughter, who donned her harness of war, and the folk, hearing of the coming encounter, flocked from all sides to the field. Presently the princess rode into the lists, armed cap-a-pie and vizor down, and the prince pricked out to meet her, equipped at all points after the goodliest fashion. Then they drove at each other and fought a great while, wheeling and feinting and advancing and retreating, till the princess, finding in him such valour and horsemanship as she had seen in none else, began to fear lest he should put her to shame before the bystanders and knew that he would assuredly overcome her, unless she could contrive to trick him. So she raised her vizor and discovered her face, more brilliant than the full moon, which when he saw, he was confounded by her beauty and his strength failed and his heart faltered. When she knew this, she fell upon him at unawares and tore him from his saddle, and he became in her hands as he were a sparrow in the clutches of an eagle, knowing not what was done with him for amazement and confusion. So she took his horse and cIothes and armour and branding him with fire, let him go.

When he recovered from his stupor, he abode several days without eating or drinking, for despite and love of the princess that had taken hold upon his heart. Then he sent a letter by certain of his slaves to his father, advising him that he could not return home, till he had gotten his will of the princess or died for lack of her. When his father read the letter, he was sore concerned for his son and would have succoured him with troops and soldiers; but his viziers dissuaded him from this and exhorted him to patience; so he committed his affair to God the Most High.

Meanwhile, the prince cast about for a means of coming to his desire and disguising himself as a decrepit old man, repaired to a garden, in which the princess used to walk most of her days. Here he sought out the gardener and said to him, "I am a stranger from a far country and from my youth upward I have been a gardener, and none is more skilled than I in the care of trees and the culture of fruits and flowers and so forth." When the gardener heard this, he rejoiced in him with an exceeding joy and carried him into the garden, where he commended him to his underlings, and the prince betook himself to the service of the garden and the tending of the trees and the bettering of their fruits.

One day, as he was thus employed, he saw some slaves enter the garden, leading mules laden with carpets and vessels, and asked them the meaning of this, to which they replied that the princess was minded to take her pleasure. When he heard this, he hastened to his lodging and fetching some of the jewels and raiment he had brought with him from Persia, sat down in the garden and spread them out before him, shaking and trembling, as if for decrepitude, and making a show of extreme old age. Presently a company of damsels and eunuchs entered, with the princess in their midst, as she were the moon among stars, and dispersed about the garden, plucking the fruits and diverting themselves. By and by they espied the prince sitting under one of the trees and making towards him, found him, [as it seemed,] a very old man, whose hands and feet trembled for decrepitude, and before him store of precious jewels and splendid ornaments. So they marvelled at his case and asked him what he did there with the jewels. Quoth he, "I would fain buy me one of you to wife therewith." They laughed at him and said, "If one of us marry thee, what wilt thou do with her?" "I will give her one kiss," answered he, "and let her go." Then said the princess, "I give thee this damsel to wife." So he rose and coming up to her, trembling and staggering and leaning on a staff; kissed her and gave her the jewels and ornaments; whereat she rejoiced and they went away, laughing at him. Next day, they came again to the garden and finding him seated in the same place, with more jewels and ornaments than before, said to him, "O old man, what wilt thou do with these jewels?" And he answered, saying, "I wish to take one of you to wife with them, even as yesterday." So the princess said, "I marry thee to this damsel ;" and he came up to her and kissed her and gave her the jewels, and they went away.

But the princess said in herself; "I have more right to all these fine things than my waiting-women, and no harm can betide me." So, on the morrow, she went down privily into the garden, in the habit of one of her damsels, and presenting herself before the prince, said to him, "O old man, the king"s daughter hath sent me to thee, that thou mayst marry me." He looked at her and knew her; so he answered, "With all my heart," and gave her jewels and ornaments of the costliest. Then he rose to kiss her, and she off her guard and fearing nothing; but, when he came up to her, he suddenly laid hold of her with a strong hand and throwing her down, did away her maidenhead. Then he pulled the beard from his face and said to her, "Dost thou not know me?" "Who art thou?" asked she, and he answered, "I am Behram, the king"s son of Persia, who have changed my favour and am become a stranger to my people and estate for thy sake and have lavished my treasures for thy love."

So she rose from under him in silence and spoke not a word of reply to him, being dazed for what had befallen her and seeing nothing for it but to be silent, for fear of disgrace; and she bethought herself and said "If I kill him, it will profit me nothing, and nought will serve me but that I flee with him to his own country." Then she gathered together her wealth and treasures and sent to him, acquainting him with her resolve, to the intent that he also might equip himself; and they agreed upon a night on which to depart. So, at the appointed time, they mounted swift horses and set out under cover of the night, nor did day break till they had traversed a great distance; and they fared on till they drew near his father"s capital in the land of the Persians. When the king heard of his son s coming, he came out to meet him with his troops and rejoiced in him with an exceeding joy. Then, after a few days, he sent the princess"s father a splendid present, with a letter to the effect that his daughter was with him and demanding her wedding equipage. Ed Detma"s father received the messengers with exceeding joy, (for that he had deemed his daughter lost and had grieved sore for her loss,) and invested them with robes of honour; after which he made bride-feasts and summoning the Cadi and the witnesses, let draw up the marriage contract between his daughter and the prince of Persia. Then he made ready her equipage and despatched it to her, and Prince Behram abode with her till death sundered them.

See, therefore, O King," continued the favourite, "the malice of men in their dealing with women. As for me, I will not go back from my due till I die." So the King once more commanded to put his son to death; but the seventh vizier came in to him and kissing the earth before him, said, "O King, have patience with me whilst I speak words of good counsel to thee; for he who is patient and acteth deliberately attaineth unto his hope aud enjoyeth his desire, but whoso acteth hastily, repentance overtaketh him. Now I have seen how this damsel hath profligately striven to abuse the King and incite him to unnatural cruelties; but I his slave, whom he hath overwhelmed with his favours and bounties, do proffer him true and loyal counsel; for that I, O King, know of the malice of women that which none knoweth but myself; and [in particular] there hath come to my knowledge, on this subject, the story of the old woman and the son of the merchant." "And what fell out between them, O vizier?" asked the King. "I have heard tell, O King," answered the seventh vizier, "that

The House with the Belvedere

There was once a wealthy merchant, who had a son who was very dear to him, and the latter said to him one day, "O my father, I have a boon to ask of thee." Quoth the merchant, "O my son, what is it, that I may give it thee and bring thee to thy desire, though it were the light of mine eyes." "Give me money," rejoined the youth, "that I may journey with the merchants to the city of Baghdad and see its sights and look upon the palace of the Khalifs; for the sons of the merchants have described these things to me and I long to see them for myself." "O my child, O my little son," answered his father, "how can I endure to part from thee?" But the youth said, "I have said my say and needs must I journey to Baghdad with or without thy consent; for such a longing for its sight hath fallen upon me as can only be assuaged by the going thither."

When the merchant saw that there was no help for it, he provided his son with goods to the value of thirty thousand dinars and gave him in charge to certain merchants in whom he trusted. Then he took leave of the youth, who journeyed with his friends the merchants till they reached Baghdad, the Abode of Peace, where he entered the market and wishing to hire a house, was shown one so handsome and spacious and elegant that he well-nigh lost his wits for admiration; for therein were gardens and fountains and running waters and pavilions facing one another, with floors of coloured marbles and ceilings inlaid with gold and lapis lazuli, and its gardens were full of warbling birds. So he asked the porter what was its rent, and he replied, "Ten dinars a month." Quoth the young man, "Speakest thou truly or dost thou jest with me?" "By Allah," answered the porter, "I speak nought but the truth, for none who taketh up his abode in this house lodgeth in it more than a week or two." "And how is that?" asked the other. "O my son," replied the porter, "whoso taketh this house cometh not forth of it, except sick or dead, wherefore it is known among the folk of Baghdad, so that none offereth to take it, and thus cometh it that its rent is fallen so low." At this the young merchant marvelled exceedingly, saying, "Needs must there be some reason for this." However, after considering awhile and seeking refuge with God from Satan the Stoned, he rented the house and took up his abode there. Then he put away apprehension from his thought and busied himself with selling and buying; and some time passed over him without any ill case befalling him.

One day, as he sat at the door, there came up a grizzled old woman, as she were a speckled snake, calling aloud on the name of God and magnifying Him at a great rate and at the same time putting away the stones and other obstacles from the path. Seeing the youth sitting there, she looked at him and marvelled at his case; (74) whereupon quoth he to her, "O old woman, dost thou know me or am I like any thou knowest?" When she heard him speak, she hastened up to him and saluting him, said, "How long hast thou dwelt in this house?" "Two months, O my mother," answered he. And she said, "O my son, it was at this that I marvelled; for I know thee not, neither dost thou know me, nor yet are thou like unto any one I know; but I marvelled for that none other than thou hath taken up his abode in this house but hath gone forth from it, dead or sick, saving thee alone. Doubtless thou hast not gone up to the upper story neither looked out from the belvedere there." So saying, she went her way and he fell a-pondering her words and said, "I have not gone up to the top of the house; nor did I know that there was a belvedere there."

Then he arose forthright and going in, searched the house, till he espied, in a corner among the trees, a narrow door, over which the spider had spun its webs, and said in himself "Belike the spider hath not spread its web over the door, but because death is within." However, he heartened himself with the saying of God the Most High, "Say, nought shall befall us save what God hath prescribed unto us;" (75) and opening the door, ascended a narrow flight of stairs, till he came to the top, where he found a belvedere, in which he sat down to rest and enjoy the view. Presently, he caught sight of an elegant house hard by, surmounted by a lofty belvedere, overlooking the whole of Baghdad, in which sat a damsel fair as a houri. No sooner had he set eyes on her, than her beauty took possession of his whole heart and made away with his reason, afflicting him with the pains of Job and the grief of Jacob. Fire was lighted in his entrails and he said, "They say that whoever takes up his abode in this house dies or falls sick. If this be so, this damsel is assuredly the cause. Would I knew how I shall win free of this affair, for my senses are gone!"

Then he descended from the turret, pondering his case, and sat down in the house, but could not rest. So, after awhile, he went out and sat at the door, absorbed in melancholy thought, and presently up came the old woman, praising and magnifying God [aloud], as she went. When he saw her, he rose and accosting her courteously, said to her, "O my mother, I was in health and well-being, till thou madest mention to me of the belvedere; so I found the door and ascending to the top of the house, saw thence what took away my senses; and now methinks I am a lost man, and I know no physician for me but thyself." When she heard this, she laughed and said, "No harm shall befall thee, so God please." Whereupon he went into the house and coming back with a hundred dinars in his sleeve, said to her, "Take this, O my mother, and deal with me as lords with slaves and succour me quickly; for, if I die, my blood will be laid to thy charge at the Day of Resurrection." "With all my heart," answered she; "but, O my son, thou must lend me thine aid in some small matter, whereby hangs the accomplishment of thy desire." Quoth he, "What would thou have me do, O my mother?" "Go to the silk-market," said she, "and enquire for the shop of Aboul Feth ben Caidam. Sit down by him and salute him and say to him, "Give me the face-veil thou hast by thee, figured with gold:" for he hath none handsomer in his shop. Then buy it of him at his own price and keep it till I come to thee to-morrow, God willing." So saying, she went away and he passed the night [as] upon coals of tamarisk wood.

Next morning, he took a thousand dinars in his pocket and repairing to the silk-market, sought cut the shop of Aboul Feth, whom he found a man of dignified aspect, surrounded by servants and attendants; for he was a merchant of great wealth and consideration, and of the goods that God the Most High had bestowed upon him was the damsel who had ravished the young man"s heart. She was his wife and had not her match for beauty, nor was her like to be found with any of the sons of the kings. So he saluted him and Aboul Feth returned his salute and bade him be seated. Accordingly, he sat down by him and said to him, "O merchant, I wish to look at such a face-veil." So he bade his servants bring him a parcel of silk from the inner shop and opening it, brought out a number of veils, whose beauty amazed the youth. Among them was the veil he sought; so he bought it for fifty dinars and bore it home, well pleased.

Hardly had he reached his house when up came the old woman, to whom he gave the veil. She bade him bring a live coal, with which she burnt one of the corners of the veil, then folded it up as before and repairing to Aboul Feth"s house, knocked at the door. Quoth the damsel, "Who is there?" And she answered, "I, such an one." Now the damsel knew her for a friend of her mother, so, when she heard her voice, she came out and opening the door to her, said, "What dost thou want, O my mother? My mother has left me and gone to her own house." "O my daughter," answered the old woman, "I know thy mother is not with thee, for I have been with her in her house, and I come not to thee, but because I fear to miss the hour of prayer; wherefore I desire to make my ablutions with thee, for I know thou art clean and thy house pure." (76) The damsel admitted her and she saluted her and called down blessings upon her. Then she took the ewer and went into the lavatory, where she made her ablutions and prayed in a place there. Presently, she came out again and said to the damsel, "O my daughter, I doubt thy servants have been in yonder place and defiled it; so do thou show me another place where I may pray, for the prayer I have prayed I account void." Thereupon the damsel took her by the hand and said to he; " O my mother, come and pray on my carpet, where my husband sits." So she stood there and prayed and worshipped and bowed and prostrated herself; and presently, she took the damsel unawares and made shift to slip the veil under the cushion, unseen of her. Then she prayed for her and went away.

At nightfall, Aboul Feth came home and sat down upon the carpet, whilst his wife brought him food and he ate what sufficed him and washed his hands; after which he leant back upon the cushion. Presently, he caught sight of a corner of the veil protruding from under the cushion; so he pulled it out and knowing it for that he had sold to the young man, at once suspected his wife of unchastity. So he called her and said, "Whence hadst thou this veil?" And she swore an oath to him [that she knew not whence it came,] saying, "None hath come to me but thou." Then he was silent for fear of scandal, and said in himself; "If I open up this chapter, I shall be put to shame before all Baghdad;" for he was one of the intimates of the Khalif and had nothing for it but to hold his peace. So he asked no questions, but said to his wife, whose name was Muhziyeh, "I hear that thy mother lies ill of heart-ache and all the women are with her, weeping over her; so do thou go to her." Accordingly, she repaired to her mother"s house and found her well, ailing nothing; and the latter said to her, "What brings thee here at this hour?" So she told her what her husband had said and sat with her awhile; but, presently, up came porters, who brought all her clothes and paraphernalia and what not else belonged to her of goods and vessels from her husband"s house and deposited them in that of her mother. When the latter saw this, she said to her daughter, "Tell me what hath passed between thee and thy husband, to bring about this." But she swore to her that she knew not the cause thereof and that there had befallen nothing between them, to call for this conduct. Quoth her mother, "Needs must there be a cause for this." And she answered, saying, "I know of none, and after this, with God the Most High be it to make provision!", Whereupon her mother fell a-weeping and lamented her daughter"s separation from the like of this man, by reason of his sufficiency and fortune and the greatness of his rank and estate.

On this wise, things abode some days, after which the old woman paid a visit to Muhziyeh in her mother"s house and saluted her affectionately, saying, "What ails thee, O my daughter, O my beloved one? Indeed, thou hast troubled my mind." Then she went in to her mother and said to her, "O my sister, what is this about thy daughter and her husband? I hear he has put her away. What hath she done to call for this?" Quoth the mother, "Peradventure her husband will return to her by the virtue of thy prayers; so do thou pray for her, for thou art a constant faster and a stander up by night to pray." Then the three women fell to talking and the old woman said to the damsel, "O my daughter, have no care, for, God willing, I will make peace between thee and thy husband before many days." Then she left them and going to the young merchant, said to him, "Make ready a handsome entertainment for us, for I will bring her to thee this very night." So he rose and provided all that was fitting of meat and drink and so forth and sat down to await them; whilst the old woman returned to the girl"s mother and said to her, "O my sister, we make a splendid bride-feast to-night; so let thy daughter go with me, that she may divert herself and make merry with us and forget her troubles; and I will bring her back to thee even as I took her away." So the mother dressed her daughter in her finest clothes and jewels and accompanied her to the door, where she commended her to the old woman"s care, saying, "Look thou let none of the creatures of God the Most High see her, for thou knowest her husband"s rank with the Khalif; and do not tarry, but bring her back to me as soon as possible."

The old woman carried the girl to the young man"s house, and she entered, thinking it the place where the wedding was to be held: but, when she came into the saloon, the youth sprang up to her and embraced her and kissed her hands and feet. She was confounded at his beauty, as well as at the elegance of the place and the profusion of meat and drink and flowers and perfumes that she saw therein, and deemed all this but a dream. When the old woman saw her amazement, she said to her, "The name of God be upon thee, O my daughter! Fear not; I am here with thee and will not leave thee for a moment. Thou art worthy of him and he of thee." So the damsel sat down, in great confusion; but the young man jested and toyed with her and entertained her with stories and verses, till her breast dilated and she became at her ease. Then she ate and drank and growing warm with wine, took the lute and sang and inclined to the youth"s beauty. When he saw this, he was drunken without wine and his life was a light matter to him [compared with her love].

Presently the old woman went out and left them alone together till the next morning, when she went in to them and gave them good morrow and said to the damsel, "How hast thou passed the night, O my lady?" "Well," answered the girl, "thanks to thine adroitness and the excellence of thine intermediation." Then said the old woman, "Come, let us go back to thy mother." But the young man pulled out a hundred dinars and gave them to her, saying, "Take this and leave her with me to-night." So she left them and repaired to the girl"s mother, to whom quoth she, "Thy daughter salutes thee, and the bride"s mother is instant with her to abide with her this night." "O my sister," replied the mother, "bear her my greeting, and if it please the girl, there is no harm in her staying the night; so let her do this and divert herself and come back to me at her leisure, for all I fear for her is chagrin on account of her husband."

The old woman ceased not to make excuse after excuse and to put off cheat upon cheat upon the girl"s mother, till Muhziyeh had tarried seven days with the young man, of whom she took a hundred dinars each day for herself; but at the end of this time, the girl"s mother said to her, "Bring my daughter back to me forthright; for I am uneasy about her, because she has been so long absent, and I misdoubt me of this." So the old woman went out, angered at her words, and going to the young man"s house, took the girl by the hand and carried her away, leaving him lying asleep on his bed, for he was heavy with wine. Her mother received her with joy and gladness and rejoiced in her with an exceeding joy, saying, "O my daughter, my heart was troubled about thee, and in my uneasiness I offended against this my sister with an injurious speech, that wounded her." "Rise and kiss her hands and feet," replied Muhziyeh; "else art thou no mother of mine; for she hath been to me as a servant in doing all I needed." So the mother went up to the old woman and made her peace with her.

Meanwhile, the young man recovered from his drunkenness and missed the damsel, but was content to have enjoyed his desire. Presently, the old woman came in to him and saluted him, saying, "What thinkest thou of my fashion?" Quoth he, "It was excellently well contrived of thee." Then said she, "Come, let us mend what we have marred and restore the girl to her husband, for we have been the cause of their separation." "How shall I do?" asked he, and she answered, "Go to Aboul Feth"s shop and salute him and sit down by him, till thou seest me pass by, when do thou rise in haste and catch hold of my dress and revile me and rail at me, demanding of me the veil. And do thou say to the merchant, "O my lord, thou knowest the face-veil I bought of thee for fifty dinars? I gave it to a slave-girl of mine, who burnt a corner of it by accident; so she gave it to this old woman, who took it, promising to get it darned and return it, and went away, nor have I seen her from that day to this."" "With all my heart," replied the young man and rising forthrtght, repaired to the shop of the silk merchant, with whom he sat till he saw the old woman pass, telling her beads on a rosary she held in her hand; whereupon he sprang up and laying hold of her clothes, began to revile and rail at her, whilst she answered him with fair words, saying, "Indeed, my son, thou art excusable."

The people of the bazaar flocked round them, saying, "What is to do?" and he replied, "Know, O folk, that I bought a veil of this merchant for fifty dinars and gave it to my slave-girl, who wore it awhile, then sat down to fumigate it. (77) Presently, a spark flew out of the chafing dish and lighting on the edge of the veil, burnt a hole in it. So we committed it to this pestilent old woman, that she might give it to who should darn it and return it to us, and we have never set eyes on her again till this day." "This young man speaks the truth," answered the old woman. "I did indeed have the veil of him, but I took it with me into one of the houses where I used to visit and forgot it there, nor do I know where I left it; and being a poor woman, I feared its owner and dared not face him."

Now the girl"s husband was listening to all they said and when he heard the tale that the crafty old woman had contrived with the young man, he rose to his feet and said, "God is Most Great! I crave pardon of the Almighty for my offences and what my heart suspected!" And he praised God who had discovered to him the truth. Then he accosted the old woman and said to her, "Dost thou use to visit us?" "O my son," replied she, "I visit you and other than you, for the sake of alms; but from that day to this, none hath given me any news of the veil." Quoth the merchant, "Hast thou asked at my house?" "O my lord," answered she, "I did indeed go to thy house and ask; but they told me that the lady of the house had been divorced by her husband; so I asked no farther." With this, the merchant turned to the young man and said, "Let the old woman go her way; for the veil is with me." So saying, he brought it out from the shop and gave it to the darner before all the folk. Then he betook himself to the damsel and giving her some money, took her again to wife, after making abundance of excuses to her and asking pardon of God, because he knew not what the old woman had done. This then, O King," said the Vizier, "is an instance of the malice of women, and for another to the same purport, I have heard tell that