Scheherazade resumed the story where she left off the day before. Sir, says she to the sultan, when the physician Douban, or rather his head, saw that the poison had taken effect, and that the king had but a few moments to live: Tyrant, it cried, now you see how princes are treated, who, abusing, their authority, cut off innocent men: God punishes, soon or late, their injustice and cruelty. Scarcely had the head spoken these words, when the king fell down dead, and the head itself lost what life it had.
Sir, continues Scheherazade, such was the end of the Grecian king, and the physician Douban; I must return now to the story of the fisherman and the genie; but it is not worth while to begin it now, for it is day. The sultan, who always observed his hours regularly, could stay no longer, but got up; and having a mind to hear the sequel of the story of the genie and, the fisherman, he bid the sultaness prepare to tell it him next night.
The Eighteenth Night.
Dinarzade made amends this night for last night's neglect; she awaked long before day, and calling upon Scheherazade, Sister, says she, if you be not asleep, pray give us the rest of the story of the fisherman and the genie; you know the sultan desires to hear it as well as I.
I shall soon satisfy his curiosity and yours, answers the sultaness; and then, addressing herself to Schahriar, Sir, continued she, as soon as the fisherman had concluded the history of the Greek king and his physician Douban, he made the application to the genie, whom he still kept shut up in the vessel. If the Grecian king, says he, would have suffered him to live; but he rejected his most humble prayers; and it is the same with thee, O genie. Could I have prevailed with thee to grant me the favour I demanded, I should now have had pity upon thee; but since, notwithstanding the extreme obligation thou wast under to me for having set thee at liberty, thou didst persist in thy design to kill me, I am obliged in my turn to be as hard-hearted to thee.
My good friend fisherman, replies the genie, I conjure thee once more not to be guilty of so cruel a thing; consider that it is not good to avenge one's self, and that, on the other hand, it is commendable to do good for evil; do not treat me as Imama treated Ateca formerly. And what did Imama to Ateca, replies the fisherman? Ho! says the genie, if you have a mind to know it, open the vessel; do you think that I can be in a humour to tell stories in so strait a prison? I will tell you as many as you please when you let me out. No, says the fisherman, I will not let thee out, it is in vain to talk of it; I am just going to throw you into the bottom of the sea. Hear me one word more, cries the genie, I promise to do thee no hurt; nay, so far from that, I will show thee a way how thou mayst become exceeding rich.
The hope of delivering himself from poverty prevailed with the fisherman. I could listen to thee says he, were there any credit to be given to thy word; swear to me by the great name of God, that you will faithfully perform what you promise, and I will open the vessel; I do not believe you will dare to break such an oath.
The genie swore to him, and the fisherman immediately took off the covering of the vessel. At that very instant the smoke came out, and the genie having resumed his form as before, the first thing he did was to kick the vessel into the sea. This action frightened the fisherman: Genie, says he, what is the meaning of that; will not you keep the oath you made, just now? And must I say to you as the physician Douban said to the Grecian king, Suffer me to live, and God will prolong your days.
The genie laughed at the fisherman's fear, and answered, No, fisherman, be not afraid, I only did it to divert myself, and to see if thou wouldst be alarmed at it: But, to persuade thee that I am in earnest, take thy net and follow me. As he spoke these words, he walked before the fisherman, who, having taken up his nets, followed him, but with some distrust: They passed by the town, and came to the top of a mountain, from whence they descended into a vast plain, which brought them to a great pond that lay betwixt four hills,
When they came to the side of the pond, the genie says to the fisherman, Cast in thy nets, and take fish; the fisherman did not doubt to catch some, because he saw a great number in the pond; but he was extremely surprised when he found they were of four colours; that is to say, white, red, blue, and yellow. He threw in his nets, and brought out one of each colour; having never seen the like, he could not but admire them, and, judging that he might get a considerable sum for them, he was very joyful. Carry these fish, says the genie to him, and present them to the sultan; he will give you more money for them than ever you had in your life. You may come every day to fish in this pond, and I give thee warming not to throw in thy nets above once a day; otherwise you will repent it. Take heed, and remember my advice; if you follow it exactly, you will find your account in it. Having spoken thus, he struck his foot upon the ground, which opened, and shut again after it had swallowed up the genie.
The fisherman, being resolved to follow the genie's advice exactly, forebore casting in his nets a second time; but returned to the town very well satisfied with his fish, and making a thousand reflections upon his adventure. He went straight to the sultan's palace to present him his fish. But, sir, says Scheherazade, I perceive day, and must stop here.
Dear sister, says Dinarzade, how surprising are the last events you have told us? I have much ado to believe that any thing you have to say can be more surprising. Sister, replies the sultaness, if the sultan, my master, will let me live till to-morrow, I am persuaded you will find the sequel of the history of the fisherman more wonderful than the beginning of it, and incomparably more diverting. Schahriar, being curious to know if the remainder of the story of the fisherman would be such as the sultaness said, put off the execution of the cruel law one day more.
The Nineteenth Night.
Towards morning, Dinarzade called the sultaness, and said, Dear sister, my pendulum tells me it will be day speedily, therefore pray continue the history of the fisherman; I am extremely impatient to know what the issue of it was. Scheherazade, having demanded leave of Schahriar, resumed her discourse as follows: Sir, I leave it to your majesty to think how much the sultan was surprised when he saw the four fishes which the fisherman presented him. He took them up one after another, and beheld them with attention; and after having admired them a long time, take these fishes, says he to his prime vizier, and carry them to the fine cook-maid that the emperor of the Greeks has sent me. I cannot imagine but they must be as good as they are fine.
The vizier carried them himself to the cook, and, delivering them into her hands, Look ye, says he, there are four fishes newly brought to the sultan, he orders you to dress them; and, having said so, he returned to the sultan his master, who ordered him to give the fisherman four hundred pieces of gold of the coin of that country, which he did accordingly.
The fisherman, who had never seen so much cash in his lifetime, could scarcely believe his own good fortune, but thought it must needs be a dream, until he found it to be real, when he provided necessaries for his family with it.
But, sir, says Scheherazade, having told you what happened to the fisherman, I must acquaint you next with what befel the sultan's cook-maid, whom we shall find in a mighty perplexity. As soon as she had gutted the fishes, she put them upon the fire in a frying-pan with oil, and when she thought them fried enough on one side, she turned them upon the other; but, O monstrous prodigy! scarcely were they turned, when the wall of the kitchen opened, and in comes a young lady of wonderful beauty and comely size. She was clad in flowered satin, after the Egyptian manner, with pendants in her ears, necklace of large pearl, and bracelets of gold, garnished with rubies, with a rod of myrtle in her hand. She came towards the frying-pan, to the great amazement of the cook-maid, who continued immovable at this sight, and, striking one of the fishes with the end of the rod, says, "Fish, fish, art thou in thy duty?" The fish having answered nothing, she repeated these words, and then the four fishes lift up their heads altogether, and said to her, "Yes, yes, if you reckon, we reckon; if you pay your debts, we pay ours; if you fly, we overcome, and are content." As soon as they had finished these words, the lady overturned the frying-pan, and entered again into the open part of the wall, which shut immediately, and became as it was before.
The cook-maid was mightily frightened at this, and, coming a little to herself, went to take up the fishes that fell upon the earth, but found them blacker than coal, and not fit to be carried to the sultan. She was grievously troubled at it, and fell a-weeping most bitterly: Alas! says she, what will become of me? If I tell the sultan what I have seen, I am sure he will not