t of his road to rest under some
trees. He found at the foot of a large walnut-tree a fountain of clear
and running water. He dismounted, fastened his horse to a branch of
the tree, and sat by the fountain, after having taken from his wallet
some of his dates and biscuits. When he had finished this frugal meal
he washed his face and hands in the fountain.

When he was thus employed he saw an enormous genius, white with rage,
coming towards him, with a scimitar in his hand.

"Arise," he cried in a terrible voice, "and let me kill you as you have
killed my son!"

As he uttered these words he gave a frightful yell. The merchant,
quite as much terrified at the hideous face of the monster as at his
words, answered him tremblingly, "Alas, good sir, what can I have done
to you to deserve death?"

"I shall kill you," repeated the genius, "as you have killed my son."

"But," said the merchant, "how can I have killed your son? I do not
know him, and I have never even seen him."

"When you arrived here did you not sit down on the ground?" asked the
genius, "and did you not take some dates from your wallet, and whilst
eating them did not you throw the stones about?"

"Yes," said the merchant, "I certainly did so."

"Then," said the genius, "I tell you you have killed my son, for whilst
you were throwing about the stones, my son passed by, and one of them
struck him in the eye and killed him. So I shall kill you."

"Ah, sir, forgive me!" cried the merchant.

"I will have no mercy on you," answered the genius.

"But I killed your son quite unintentionally, so I implore you to spare
my life."

"No," said the genius, "I shall kill you as you killed my son," and so
saying, he seized the merchant by the arm, threw him on the ground, and
lifted his sabre to cut off his head.

The merchant, protesting his innocence, bewailed his wife and children,
and tried pitifully to avert his fate. The genius, with his raised
scimitar, waited till he had finished, but was not in the least touched.

Scheherazade, at this point, seeing that it was day, and knowing that
the Sultan always rose very early to attend the council, stopped
speaking.

"Indeed, sister," said Dinarzade, "this is a wonderful story."

"The rest is still more wonderful," replied Scheherazade, "and you
would say so, if the sultan would allow me to live another day, and
would give me leave to tell it to you the next night."

Schahriar, who had been listening