THE HISTORY OF THE LADY WHO WAS MURDERED, AND OF THE YOUNG MAN HER HUSBAND.
SOVEREIGN of the Believers, I must acquaint your majesty that the murdered lady was my wife, and daughter to this old man whom you see, who is my uncle on my father’s side. She was only twelve years of age when he bestowed her on me in marriage; and eleven years have passed since that period. She has borne me three sons, who are still alive, and I must do her the justice to say, that she never gave me the least cause for displeasure. She was prudent and virtuous; and her greatest pleasure was to make me happy. In return I loved her with the truest affection, and anticipated all her wishes, instead of thwarting them.
“About two months since she fell sick: I treated her with all possible care, and spared no pains to effect her cure. At the expiration of a month she grew better, and wished to go to the bath. Before she went out of the house she said to me, ‘Cousin,’ for so she used familiarly to call me, ‘I wish to eat some apples: you would oblige me very much if you could procure me some. I have had this desire for a long time, and I must confess that it has now increased to such a degree, that if I am not gratified I fear some misfortune will happen.’ I replied, ‘I will do all in my power to content you.’
“I immediately went into all the markets and shops I could think of in quest of apples; but I could not obtain one, although I offered to pay a sequin for each. I returned home much vexed at having taken so much trouble to no purpose. As for my wife, when she came back from the bath, and did not see any apples, she was so chagrined that she could not sleep all night. I rose early the next morning and went into all the gardens, but could not succeed in my purpose. I only met with an old gardener, who told me that, whatever pains I might take, I should not find any apples excepting in your majesty’s gardens at Balsora.
“As I was passionately fond of my wife, and could not bear the thought of neglecting any means to satisfy her longing, I put on the dress of a traveller, and, having informed her of my intention, I set out for Balsora. I travelled with such despatch that I reached my home at the end of a fortnight. I brought with me three apples, which had cost me a sequin apiece. They were the last in the garden, and the gardener would not sell them at a lower price. When I arrived I presented them to my wife; but her longing was then over, so she received in silence, and only placed them by her side. But her sickness continued, and I did not know what remedy to apply for her disorder.
“A few days after my return, as I sat in my shop in the public square, where all sorts of fine stuffs are sold, I saw a tall black slave enter, holding an apple in his hand, which I knew to be one of those I had brought from Balsora. I could have no doubt on the subject, for I knew that there were none in Baghdad, nor in any of the gardens in the environs. I called the slave, and said, ‘My good slave, pray tell me where you got that apple.’ He replied, laughing, ‘It is a present from my mistress. I have been to see her to-day, and found her unwell. I saw three apples by her side, and asked her where she had got them; and she told me, that her foolish husband had been a fortnight’s journey on purpose to get them for her. We breakfasted together, and when I came away I brought this with me.’
“This intelligence enraged me beyond measure. I rose and then shut up my shop; I ran hastily home, and went into the chamber of my wife. I looked for the apples; and seeing but two, I inquired what was become of the third. My wife, turning her head towards the side where the apples were, and perceiving that there were only two, replied coldly, ‘I do not know what is become of it, cousin.’ This answer convinced me that the slave had spoken truth. Transported by a fit of jealousy, I drew a knife which hung from my girdle, and plunged it in the breast of my unhappy wife. I then cut off her head, and hewed her body into pieces. I tied up these pieces in a bundle, which I concealed in a folding basket, and after sewing up the opening of the basket with some red worsted, I enclosed it in a chest, and as soon as it was night carried it on my shoulders to the Tigris, and threw it in.
“My two youngest children were in bed and asleep, and the third was away from home. On my return I found him sitting at the door, weeping bitterly. I asked him the reason of his tears. ‘Father,’ said he, ‘this morning I took away from my mother, without her knowledge, one of the three apples you brought her. I kept it for some time, but as I was playing with it in the street, with my little brothers, a great black slave who was passing snatched it out of my hand, and took it away with him. I ran after him, asking him for it; I told him that it belonged to my mother, who was ill, and that you had been a fortnight’s journey to procure it for her. All my entreaties were useless, for he would not return it; and as I followed him, crying, he turned back and beat me, and then ran off as fast as he could through so many winding streets that I lost sight of him. Since then I have been walking about the city waiting for your return. I was staying here for you, my father, to beg that you will not tell my mother, lest it should make her worse.’ And when he had finished speaking he wept anew.
“This story of my son’s plunged me into the deepest affliction. I now saw the enormity of my crime, and repented, too late, my credulous belief of the story of the wicked slave. My uncle, who is now present, arrived at that moment. He came to see his daughter; but instead of finding her alive he learnt from my lips that she was no more, for I disguised nothing from him, and without waiting for his condemnation I denounced myself as the most criminal of men. Nevertheless, instead of pouring forth the reproaches I justly deserved, this good man mingled his tears with mine, and we wept together three whole days; he for the loss of a daughter he had always tenderly loved, I for that of a wife who was dear to me, and of whom I had miserably deprived myself by giving credit to the false statement of a lying slave.
The black man steals the apple.
“This, Sovereign of the Faithful, is the sincere confession which your majesty required of me: you know the extent of my crime, and I humbly supplicate you to give orders for my punishment; however rigorous it may be, I shall not murmur at it, but esteem it too light.”
“At this the caliph was in great astonishment; but this equitable prince, finding that the youth was more to be pitied than blamed, began to take his part. ‘The action of this young man,’ said he, ‘is excusable in the sight of God, and may be pardoned by man. The wicked slave is the sole cause of this murder: he is the only one who ought to be punished; therefore,’ continued he, addressing the vizier, ‘I give you three days to find him: if you do not produce him within that time your life shall be the forfeit instead of his.’
“The unhappy Giafar, who had congratulated himself on his safety, was again overwhelmed with despair on hearing this new decree of the caliph; but as he did not dare to argue with his sovereign, with whose disposition he was well acquainted, he went out of his master’s presence, and returned to his own house with his eyes bathed in tears, fully persuaded that he had only three days to live. He was so convinced of the impossibility of finding the slave, that he did not even seek him. ‘It is not to be believed,’ cried he, ‘that in such a city as Baghdad, where there are vast numbers of black slaves, I should ever be able to discover the man the caliph requires. If Allah do not reveal him to me as he revealed the murderer, nothing can possibly save me.’
“He passed the two first days in weeping with his family, who could not help murmuring at the rigour of the caliph. On the third day he prepared for death with firmness, and like a minister who had ever acted with integrity, and had done nothing of which he was ashamed. He sent for the cadi and other witnesses, who signed the will he made in their presence. Then he embraced his wife and children, and bade them a last farewell. All his family melted into tears—never was there a more affecting spectacle. At length an officer of the palace arrived, with the news that the caliph was much displeased at not having heard from him about the black slave whom he had commanded the vizier to discover. ‘I am ordered,’ continued he, ‘to bring you to the foot of the throne.’ The miserable vizier prepared to follow the officer; but as he was going, his youngest daughter was brought to him. She was five or six years old, and the women who had the care of her were bringing her to take leave of her father.
“As he was particularly fond of this daughter, he entreated the officer to allow him a few minutes to speak to her. He approached the child, and, taking her in his arms, kissed her several times. In kissing her he perceived she had something large and fragrant in her bosom. ‘My dear little girl,’ said he, ‘what have you in your bosom?’ ‘My dear father,’ replied she, ‘it is an apple, on which is written the name of the caliph, our lord and master. Rihan our slave sold it me for two sequins.’
“At these words the grand vizier Giafar cried aloud with surprise and joy, and immediately took the apple from the child’s bosom. He ordered the slave to be called, and exclaimed, when the black was brought into his presence, ‘Rascal! where didst thou get this apple?’ ‘My lord,’ replied the slave, ‘I swear to you, that I have not stolen it either from your garden or from that of the Commander of the Faithful.
“ ‘The other day I passed through a street where there were three or four children at play. One of them had this apple in his hand, and I took it away from him. The child ran after me, saying that the apple did not belong to him, but to his mother, who was ill; that his father, to gratify her longing, had gone to a great distance to procure it, and had brought her three; that this was one which he had taken without his mother’s knowledge. He entreated me to return it, but I would not attend to him, and brought the apple home; after which I sold it to the little lady, your daughter, for two sequins. This is all I have to say.’
“Giafar could not help marvelling how the roguery of a slave had caused the death of an innocent woman, and nearly deprived himself of life. He took the slave with him, and when he reached the palace he related to the caliph what the slave had confessed, and the chance by which he discovered the crime.
“The astonishment of the caliph was beyond all bounds; he could not contain himself, and burst into violent fits of laughter. At last, having regained his composure, he said to the vizier, that since his slave had occasioned all this distress he merited an exemplary punishment. ‘Commander of the Faithful,’ replied the vizier, ‘I cannot deny it; yet his crime is not unpardonable. I know a history, far more surprising, of a vizier of Cairo, called Noureddin Ali, and of Bedreddin Hassan, of Balsora.’
“The vizier Giafar, having concluded the history of Bedreddin Hassan, said to the Caliph Haroun Alraschid, ‘Commander of the Faithful, this is what I had to relate to your majesty.’ The caliph thought this history so surprising that he did not hesitate to grant a pardon to the slave Rihan; and to console the young man for the loss of a wife he tenderly loved, the caliph married him to one of his slaves.
“But, my lord,” added Scheherazade, “however entertaining the history I have related may have been, I know another which is far more wonderful: if your majesty will but hear it to-morrow night, I am sure you will think so too.” Shahriar arose without making any reply, for he was doubtful what he should do. “This good sultana,” said he to himself, “relates very long stories; and when she has once begun one, there is no possibility of refusing to hear the whole of it. I do not know whether I ought not to order her death to-day; yet no, I will not do anything precipitately. The story she promises me is, perhaps, the most amusing of any I have yet heard, and I must not deprive myself of the pleasure of hearing it. After she has finished it I will give orders for her execution.”
Dinarzade did not fail on the following morning to wake the sultana before daybreak, according to her usual custom. And Scheherazade, having requested permission of Shahriar to relate the history she had promised him, began as follows:—
